I'm too competitive to let the devil win.

Or: what to do when you’ve done everything and it’s still not working.

Whew. It’s been 214 days since I last wrote to you. I had no intention of taking a break. I wish I could say I haven’t written because life has been too joyful and fulfilling, but God might strike me down if I told a lie that big!

I haven’t written because I’ve been, quite literally, sick and tired. Since my post in April, I’ve been through a surgery that chewed me up and spit me out, I was diagnosed with Hashimoto’s disease and scoliosis, and I’m currently on my third cycle of IVF. Most days, I find it too difficult to walk around the block without getting plagued with exhaustion. And the depression that comes from sinking everything into medical bills without seeing a return? Yeah, that’s a whole different beast.

It goes without saying that in this dark season, I’ve leaned a lot more on God and my therapist. My therapist suggested that I get another hobby, since learning Spanish feels more like a daily habit than a hobby now.

Initially, I wanted to try tennis, but for reasons stated above, that didn’t work out. Somehow, I landed on chess… and y’all, I LOVE chess. Obsessed might be a better-suited word.

Since playing chess, I’ve realized that I’m much more competitive than I ever thought myself to be. I don’t mind a match that ends in a stalemate (tie), but boy oh boy do I hate losing!!

At first, chess was just a distraction… a way to help my mind ignore my body’s suffering. But somewhere between these 5 a.m. chess lessons with my coach in Iran and the endless YouTube tutorials, God started speaking to me.

Just last week, during a match, there was a moment when I couldn’t see a way out of my opponent’s attack, and I was going to surrender my bishop¹. Instead, I took a full five minutes to consider my next move — and in that moment, I clearly heard God say, “You’re learning how to fight again.” (I won that match btw!!)

Chess is teaching me patience, endurance, and the importance of not forfeiting when all looks hopeless. It’s like God is saying, You’ve been letting the devil win too easily, baby girl. And so, I’ve decided I’m done laying down my pieces without a fight.

• I’m done letting my infertility dictate whether or not I live a joyful life.

• I’m done letting depression convince me that it’s time to give up my dreams.

• I’m done letting fear rewrite the story God already promised would end in victory.

• I’m definitely done letting the devil whip up on me like I’m some kind of punk!!!

It’s time to say yes!!! Yes to showing up, yes to fighting back, yes to The Daily Yes!!

But, let me be clear: saying yes doesn’t mean I’ve suddenly figured it all out… far from it! It just means I’m learning how to live differently in the middle of the storm.

So what has fighting back actually looked like when I’ve prayed, tried, and hoped but I’m still not seeing the results?

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1. Acknowledge the loss and exhaustion honestly.

Infertility hasn’t just been a medical condition for me; it’s been a series of repeated griefs. Each cycle, procedure, or painful test becomes a new emotional wound. I’ve learned to first give myself permission to grieve what hasn’t happened yet, instead of rushing into hope again.

I’ve started saying to myself:

You’ve done the work; you’ve fought hard. You are allowed to be tired.

p.s. Naming that exhaustion out loud (to a therapist, a journal, or someone we trust) isn’t weakness; it’s transparency that deserves to be celebrated!

2. Shift the goal from “outcome” to “alignment.”

When we’ve already obeyed what God asked of us, the next task may not be to do more, but to just learn how to be, and to let our identity expand beyond what hasn’t happened.

Ask yourself: Even though I can’t control this one part of my life, how can I still live meaningfully right now?

This doesn’t mean giving up! You’re just grounding your worth in something deeper than results and moving from striving to steadiness. (I might write a whole post on this later!)

3. Let your body come off high alert.

Years of infertility kept my body in fight-or-flight mode: constant scans, shots, waiting, disappointment, disappointment, and more disappointment. My nervous system forgot how to rest. If you’re in the same boat for whatever reason, try these (they signal safety to your body):

• Gentle daily movement (walks, stretching, YouTube Pilates)

• Slow, steady breathing (nose inhale 4, hold 7, mouth exhale 8 seconds)

• Grounding through touch — warm showers, warm weighted blankets, holding your partner’s (or someone’s) hand

• Scheduling something nurturing after every high-emotional event (rejections, loss, doctor’s appointment, bad news, therapy: you name it!)

  

4. Let your faith evolve, not collapse!!!!!!!!!!!!

Again, LET YOUR FAITH EVOLVE, NOT COLLAPSE!!!!

My, my, my!! I wish my faith was as strong as I THOUGHT it was at the start of this journey!! When outcomes didn’t line up with my obedience, I started experiencing what I called spiritual disorientation, where…

• I still believed in God, but I didn’t understand and trust Him anymore.

• The scriptures or prayers that once comforted me began to feel flat or even painful.

• I started to wonder, “Did I mishear God? Did I do something wrong? Why is this happening if I did everything ‘right’?”

For a while, all I could do is continually pray this prayer: “God, I did everything You asked, and I still feel empty. Please help me.” Because that was my prayer of truth, and God honors truth (Job!!).

You’re allowed to let your understanding of God grow larger than “cause and effect.” God can handle your confusion and your disappointment.

And I hope you realize you do have something to show for what you’ve been through: strength, patience, connection with Christ, endurance, and more!!

Obedience does not always produce immediate outcomes, but it always produces intimacy with God. In Scripture, some people waited decades — Abraham and Sarah, Hannah, Elizabeth — and others never saw the promise fulfilled in their lifetime, yet their faith still spoke. The point was never just the result; it was the relationship that was forged in the waiting. I’m still learning this!

5. Re-anchor in community and purpose.

Prettttyyyyyy please don’t isolate. Be better than me!! I cut myself off from the world, but you need people who can hold your pain without trying to fix it. Look for support groups where you can be naked and honest! And try re-anchoring yourself in small generosity: mentoring, volunteering, creating, caring. These don’t replace whatever you’re longing for, but they do give your love somewhere to flow while you wait or heal.

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I don’t know how my story will end; I don’t know if the prayers I’ve prayed will ever look the way I imagined. But I do know this: I’m still here. I’m still fighting. I’m still saying yes.

• Yes to showing up, even when I’d rather hide.

• Yes to trusting God in the fog.

• Yes to believing there’s purpose in the pause.

Because the devil doesn’t get the final move!!! God does. And as long as I’ve got breath in my lungs and a hand on my chessboard, I’ll keep saying yes!

Please comment if this touched you in any way. I’m climbing out of my isolation and would love some community. Otherwise, how have you been? What have I missed?

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P.s. I’m slowly getting back into a routine and fighting back! I do plan to start attaching audio recordings, photos, and videos to my blogs again. I also want to share an updated schedule of how often you can expect to hear from me, but for now, I want to give myself grace and take it slow. I hope you understand! Love you!

P.s.s. Sorry if there are typos!! I’m also fighting perfectionsism and the anxiety of “coming back” to writing! So, I’m finally posting this after rereading it 38942894 times!

1. A game piece in chess.