When I talk about faith, I don’t mean religion. At least, not in the way people usually think. I’m not here to preach or tell anyone to go to church or believe in a certain way. I don’t go to church anymore. And to be completely honest, there have been times I’ve questioned if there’s a God or anything bigger than all of us. But I still have faith.

Faith, to me, means believing in something – even if that something is just the idea that life will get better. That I’ll get through the next hard thing. That there’s more ahead for me than just pain.

When you live with chronic illness, your body can feel like a stranger. One day it’s functioning, the next day it’s failing you. It’s scary. And in those moments, having something to hold onto – faith, hope, purpose – is what keeps you grounded. Because when your physical strength fades, you need something deeper to carry you through.

Growing up, I was very involved in the Catholic Church. My mom was the youth group director, and my sister and I were both part of it. My sister sang, I sang and played piano. Church was a big part of our lives. And I still remember when I got really sick – when the pain was so bad I could barely take it – I prayed. I begged God to ease it, even just a little. I remember telling Him I would do anything for some relief. In a way, I guess I owe Him my life.

These days, I wouldn’t call myself super religious. But I still find myself talking to God, especially when I need something. I know that’s not how it’s “supposed” to work, but that’s just the truth. That Jelly Roll song – “I only talk to God when I need a favor” – that line hits me hard. It’s not perfect, but it’s honest.

Faith doesn’t always mean organized religion. It can be prayer, or it can be hope. It can be belief in yourself, or in the people around you, or just in the idea that the sun will rise tomorrow. I think faith is just that quiet voice that tells you, “Keep going. You’ve got this.”

There have been so many moments – hospital stays, tests, medication side effects – where I’ve felt like I couldn’t do it anymore. But faith, even the messy, unconventional kind, has carried me through. Sometimes it’s been in my own heart, and sometimes I’ve had to hold on for the people around me.

I’ve learned that sometimes I’m the one others lean on for faith. My husband and my boys – there have been so many times they’ve looked to me with worry in their eyes, and I’ve had to be the one to say, “I’m fine. I’m still here. I’ll get through this.” Even when I’m scared or hurting, I find a way to be steady for them. Because sometimes, holding on to faith isn’t just about saving yourself – it’s about helping the people you love believe it too.

Whatever you’re going through, my hope for you is that you find something to believe in – your version of faith. It doesn’t have to be perfect. It just has to be yours.

So if you’re struggling, if you’re hurting, and you’re not sure what to believe in right now – that’s okay. Faith doesn’t have to look like anyone else’s. It just has to help you hold on. Whatever that looks like for you, keep it close. You’re not alone.