I Am Still Here

This week’s reflection is for the many people walking through life with an illness—silent or not so silent. The kind of struggle that lives in the background, in the bones, in the bloodwork, or just beneath the surface of a smile.

We often think we’re being strong by keeping it quiet. By pushing through. By pretending we’re okay when we’re not. But there’s a cost to silent suffering. And it’s one many of us have paid without realizing how deep the toll goes.

It isn’t always something big like cancer—though diagnoses like that seem to be on the rise. Sometimes it’s not that at all. Sometimes it’s stress that mutates into something harder to name: burnout, inflammation, fatigue that doesn’t lift, a body that feels foreign and heavy.

I’ve been there.

There have been times when a strange virus or relentless bug knocked me flat. Days when I couldn’t get off the couch, couldn’t finish a meal, couldn’t summon the will to rise. And in that stillness, the questions came rushing in:

What will they say at work?
What happens if I don’t get better?
What if I’m just... done?

Those thoughts? They’re not whispers. They’re loud knocks. Screaming truths from a body and spirit stretched beyond capacity. They show up when leadership fails—especially when it’s laced with ego or dishonesty. When leaders who should be protecting their people instead drain them. When the pressure is so great, it presses the wellness right out of you.

But that’s why this week’s mindset script—“I Am Still Here”—feels like more than a meditation. It feels like an anthem. A declaration for the days you feel lost in the shadows.

Even though you’re tired.
Even though you feel behind.
Even though your strength feels far away...

You are still here.
You are doing your best.
And you matter—even in this fragile chapter.

Whether you’re still working, quietly pushing through the pain, or your illness has demanded you step away altogether, hear this:

You are enough.

And yes, the darkness speaks. It tempts us to believe the worst about ourselves. But there’s a deeper truth: there is a plan. The Master of All Plans doesn’t abandon us in the valley. We may not see the full map, but something within us knows we’re still on the path.

So trust it.
Trust what this season is asking you to learn.
Trust that rest is not weakness.
Trust that being still doesn’t mean being broken.

This, too, is part of your leadership.
The kind that inspires—not with noise, but with presence.
The kind that whispers to others: you can be human, and still be powerful.

You are still here.
And that is holy.

7 Steps to Reclaim Your Power When Strength Feels Gone

1. Breathe Deeply Into the Present

When the mind spirals and the body falters, return to the breath.
Even one mindful inhale is a choice to stay. A prayer of “I’m still here.”
Let your breath remind you: you don’t have to figure out everything today. You just need to be here, now.

2. Sit in the Presence of Nature

Go outside, even just for five minutes.
Feel the wind. Watch the trees. Let sunlight kiss your skin.
Nature doesn’t strive—it simply is. Let that be your permission to stop striving, and simply belong to this moment.
This is where God often speaks—in the stillness of creation.

3. Speak Kindly to Yourself

Your body and soul hear every word you say.
Trade self-criticism for quiet compassion:

“I am tired, but I am trying.”
“I don’t have to do it all to be worthy.”
“Even now, I am enough.”

These aren’t just affirmations. They are acts of sacred self-remembrance.

4. Take One Small, Nourishing Action

When you feel powerless, choose one gentle thing:
Drink a full glass of water.
Stretch for five minutes.
Write a single sentence in a journal.
Each small act becomes a brick in the foundation of your return to strength.

5. Let Go of What No Longer Serves

Release the pressure to prove.
Release roles that drain you.
Release thoughts that whisper you're not enough.
You are allowed to lay burdens down—even the invisible ones.

6. Spend Time in Sacred Presence

Open your heart in prayer. Sit in quiet meditation. Walk with God.
You don’t need fancy words.
Just say: “Be with me. Guide me. Heal me.”
The Universe, the Creator, the Divine—whatever name you call it—always shows up for those who sit in stillness and ask.

7. Remember: This Chapter Is Not the End

Your story is not over.
This moment of weakness is not your identity—it’s a sacred pause.
Even now, the seeds of healing, wisdom, and resilience are being sown.

Let this be your reminder:

You are not broken.
You are becoming.
And you are still here.