Alone with God.

 

Have you ever overcome on your own?

The process of change, transformation, and growth—the journey of freedom and healing. The victory, the glory, the radiance people see in public that makes them pause and think “wow.” Yet they do not know the depth of your story. They do not see what it cost you. They do not know how much was overcome in silence—just you and God. No audience. No applause.

Psychology has long observed that the deepest identity formation often occurs in seasons of isolation. Carl Jung described this process as individuation—the separation of the self from external validation so a stable, integrated identity can emerge (Jung, 1959). Erik Erikson similarly taught that identity consolidation requires withdrawal from roles, relationships, and expectations that once defined the self (Erikson, 1968). Spiritually, this mirrors sanctification—the dismantling of the old self so something new can be formed (2 Corinthians 5:17).

There is a quiet trauma that comes from not being able to speak what is on your heart. Even after healing has taken place, a lingering wound can remain from seasons of loneliness and misunderstanding. Psychology refers to this as emotional invalidation, where a person’s internal experience lacks a safe relational space for expression (Linehan, 1993). Neuroscience confirms that social rejection and being unseen activate the same neural pain pathways as physical injury (Eisenberger & Lieberman, 2004). Scripture gives language to this reality through lament, wilderness seasons, and the cries of those who walked closely with God yet felt alone.

When you realize that you are always the one helping, always the one carrying others, yet there is no one able to carry you, psychology describes this as caretaker fatigue and relational asymmetry (Figley, 1995). High-capacity individuals often outgrow their relational environments, which can lead to profound loneliness—not because of a lack of people, but because of a mismatch in emotional and psychological maturity.

There were times I was surrounded by people, yet unable to connect with anyone on a holistic level. Boundaries existed everywhere. Developmental psychology refers to this as developmental asynchrony, when internal growth exceeds the capacity of one’s social environment (Kegan, 1982). In such cases, boundaries are not rejection—they are markers of maturity and psychological self-protection.

Yet Scripture reminds us that all things work together for good for those who love God (Romans 8:28). Nothing goes wasted, everything is used for a lesson or a blessing. Psychology aligns with this through the concept of meaning-making, a core mechanism of trauma integration. When suffering is placed within a coherent narrative, the brain shifts from survival-based functioning to growth-oriented processing (Park, 2010). This season continually turned me toward Jesus—toward His Word and toward His will for my life. Though it was lonely not having someone I could fully trust, I experienced deep peace and joy. Neuroscience associates this state with parasympathetic nervous system activation, where emotional regulation and internal safety are restored (Porges, 2011).

My life became like a house that was completely torn down—the old me—so that Jesus could build something entirely new. In psychology, this resembles identity deconstruction and reconstruction, a process often observed during major life transitions or spiritual awakenings (Marcia, 1980). But during the rebuilding, there was no one to talk to about my growth, my seasons, my transformation, my healing, or the freedom taking place within me. The process was deeply lonely.

It felt as though everything was stripped away: friends, work, certain family relationships, old thought patterns, and my former way of living. Attachment theory explains that when familiar attachments dissolve, the psyche seeks a new secure base (Bowlby, 1988). In this season, God Himself became my primary attachment figure—providing safety, regulation, identity, and meaning.

Though I was the happiest, most at peace, and filled with purpose—understanding where I was and where I was going—I came to understand that deep transformation often requires solitude. Both Scripture and psychology affirm that uninterrupted formation produces stability that relational noise cannot (Winnicott, 1965).

God is intentional with every individual. Psychological research confirms that growth cannot be rushed or outsourced. He will not allow even the smallest interference to disrupt His work in you. He values formation so deeply that if isolation is required, He allows it—so the work is completed fully and without fragmentation.

God is protective. God is precise. He makes no mistakes.

I remember crying out, “Lord, I feel so alone. Why don’t I have pure-hearted friendships? Does faithful love exist? What is my purpose?” Psychology recognizes this as existential questioning, a necessary stage of mature psychological development (Yalom, 1980). Spiritually, it is the refining cry of a heart being prepared rather than avoided.

There came a moment when I was so immersed in the presence of Jesus that striving ceased. Psychology refers to this as self-integration—when the self is no longer fragmented or driven by unmet needs (Rogers, 1961). I was content simply being with Him. And it was then—without me asking—that God began to speak to me about my future husband.

I remember saying, “Lord, I just want to be with You. I want to love You and read Your Word. Why are You speaking to me about this?”

And that is when understanding settled in.

When wholeness is found internally—when identity, safety, and meaning are anchored in God—the soul is no longer desperate or divided. Both psychology and Scripture affirm that a cantered self can finally receive without clinging.

Because Jesus is the centre of it all (Psalm 63:8).