The Sacred Work of Self-Preservation

What I share with you today is a real-time revelation of God’s love and grace in my life. The first three years of my 30s have felt like a gentle but persistent nudge, pushing me into deeper healing, greater self-awareness, and a clearer understanding of how my childhood trauma has shaped my adult decisions. No one really talks about how walking through life intentionally will send you on a profound journey of self-discovery. Just when you think you’ve got a handle on who you are, here comes God, calling you to go deeper, every time.

In this season, my intention is about self-preservation.

For years, I’ve spent my days trying to heal others, trying to prove that I was worthy of loving—and not leaving. I tried to correct those who spoke wrongly about me. I believed that if I loved people hard enough and offered them the same grace that God had given me, they would somehow return that grace with loyalty, protection, and support. But the introduction to my 30s has made one thing clear: that’s not always the case. This work isn’t an affirmation of hate; it’s a revelation that my journey has shifted.

From healing…to self-preservation.

It took me years to admit that I struggle with abandonment issues. To face that meant I had to acknowledge something I didn’t want to say out loud: that many of the friendships and intimate relationships I held onto were toxic. I knew it. But because I wanted to belong so badly, because I had such a deep desire to be chosen, I stayed longer than I should have. For reasons I couldn’t always explain.

But in staying, I watched my desire to grow decline. My healing slowed. My hope dimmed. That’s where self-destruction is born, inside trauma that never gets addressed, and behavior that keeps triggering your survival mode. My cycle looked a little like this: love someone, forgive someone, block someone, yearn for that same someone, repeat steps 1 though 4. And in that, I allowed people who never deserved access to me to keep me stuck in a perpetual state of healing.

Until now.

How frustrating is it to look back and realize that you’re healing from the very thing that pushed you into wanting healing in the first place?

Lord, forgive me.

This is where I am now. I’m learning that after the healing is done, and after the boundaries are set, there’s still more work. I’m learning to preserve myself in the midst of silent, adverse seasons of change. This is the space where I stand in dark places while holding the light silently within my heart. I’m no longer begging for those around me to help pull me out of the darkness. I’m trusting that God sees the work I’m doing, and that He will provide every need and fulfill every desire.

Standing in the darkness for me looks like co-parenting with someone I no longer share an emotional connection with. It looks like working alongside colleagues who have spoken ill of my character. It looks like loving my mother in a space of indecision and toxicity. And still—choosing to be present, to be rooted, and to preserve what God has placed inside of me.

Self-preservation is so much bigger than self-care.

It’s deeper than reading, journaling, or taking a walk. It’s about seeking healthy coping mechanisms that ground you. It’s an invitation to sit with yourself and feel. To feel and connect with God. To feel and connect with your emotions, and then determine the healthiest road forward in order to preserve the light within your soul.

If you’re walking through a season of quiet transition, know this—you are not alone. The work you’re doing, even if unseen, is sacred. You are allowed to protect your peace, guard your light, and honor the healing you’ve fought for.

Be blessed,

De’dria Louise Bynum