How God's Faithfulness Held Us Together

When Your Mind Feels Like the Enemy

What happens when the biggest threat to your marriage isn’t infidelity, finances, or failure to communicate—but your own mind?

For years, I lived with undiagnosed complex PTSD. I didn’t have a name for it at the time—I just knew I was overwhelmed, emotionally volatile, and painfully self-aware. I knew I wasn’t easy to live with. And I believed my husband, Kevin, deserved better.

That belief almost destroyed me.

But Kevin stayed. Not because I was lovable at the time. Not because we had all the answers. He stayed because of something deeper—something rooted in faith, memory, and mercy.

The Silent Struggle So Many Christian Couples Face

Mental illness in marriage is often invisible, especially in Christian circles. Faith communities can unintentionally reinforce the idea that strong belief should cancel out emotional struggle. That if you pray more, try harder, and “take every thought captive,” the anxiety, depression, trauma, or mood swings will vanish.

But what if they don’t? What if your symptoms persist? What if your healing is slow?

In 2 Corinthians 12:9, the Lord told Paul, “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.” Paul’s response was staggering: “Therefore I will boast all the more gladly of my weaknesses, so that the power of Christ may rest upon me.”

That verse held me when everything else was shaking. I didn’t have to pretend to be strong—I could lean fully on Christ’s strength. And Kevin’s love, rooted in God’s mercy, became a daily reminder of that grace.

Why He Stayed

Kevin says it this way: “Don’t forget the young woman you fell in love with.”

There’s biblical power in that act of remembering. Throughout Scripture, God calls His people to remember—not just events, but His faithfulness, His promises, and their identity in Him.

“Remember the Lord your God, for it is He who gives you power…” —Deuteronomy 8:18
“I will remember the deeds of the Lord; yes, I will remember your wonders of old.” —Psalm 77:11

Kevin chose to remember who I truly was—even when I couldn’t. He didn’t cling to an idealized version of me, but to the truth of my worth and the covenant we made before God.

He didn’t try to fix me. He just stayed. And in that, he mirrored the long-suffering love of Christ.

Parenting Through the Fire

Another thing that kept us grounded was our shared love for our children. We both wanted something I hadn’t experienced growing up (but Kevin had)—stability, continuity, peace. We wanted our kids to see what commitment looked like in the trenches.

“A cord of three strands is not quickly broken.” —Ecclesiastes 4:12

That third strand—God’s presence—held us when we couldn’t hold each other.

There were seasons when I stayed in the marriage not because I felt strong love, but because I knew our kids needed a stable home. Sometimes obedience and love don’t feel emotional—they feel like grit and surrender.

But love rooted in obedience to God bears fruit in time. Even when it feels small. Even when it feels unnoticed.

What I’ve Learned as a Coach

I want to say this plainly: I don’t coach couples from a place of pride. I don’t show up with shiny strategies or formulaic answers. I show up with my scars.

“Praise be to… the God of all comfort, who comforts us in all our troubles, so that we can comfort those in any trouble…” —2 Corinthians 1:3–4

I’ve been comforted by God through Kevin’s steady presence, through counseling and coaching, through prayer, and through failure. And that comfort fuels my work.

I don’t offer quick fixes because I know marriage isn’t quick to fix. I offer patience, perspective, and truth rooted in God’s Word. I offer grace, because I’ve needed it in buckets.

And I never put myself in the role of savior. I’ve tried that in my own marriage—and it nearly wrecked us both. There’s only one Savior, and He’s the one who walks us through the fire, not around it.

If You’re in That Place Right Now…

If you’re a husband or wife carrying trauma, anxiety, or shame into your marriage, I want to say this with as much tenderness as I can: You are not broken beyond repair. You are not a burden. You are not “too much.”

Your suffering doesn’t disqualify you from love. In fact, it may be the very place where God wants to show you just how sufficient His grace really is.

And if you’re married to someone who is struggling, let me encourage you: your love matters more than you know. Your steady remembering may be the hand of God in their life. You don’t need to have all the answers—you just need to stay close to the One who does.

Final Thoughts

Marriage is not a fairy tale. It’s more like a long pilgrimage—with detours, breakdowns, and sometimes deep valleys of the shadow of death. But if Christ is at the center, then your story isn’t finished. Your suffering isn’t wasted. And your love—however feeble it feels—is anchored in a covenant that points to the greatest love story of all.

Let God write something redemptive in your marriage. Not something easy. Something holy.

You don’t have to do this alone. I’m here to walk with you—not because I’ve figured it all out, but because I know the One who knows the way through the fire.