To Offer it up… or Give it Up
A reflection for Catholics navigating suffering, responsibility, and healing
We are made to flourish—even on this side of eternity.
Redemption begins now.
“Thy Kingdom come, Thy will be done, on earth as it is in Heaven.”
Each time we pray the Our Father, we aren’t just longing for Heaven as some distant hope—we're inviting Heaven to break into our daily lives, into our pain, into our bodies.
So what does that mean when we suffer?
What does that mean when anxiety grips our chest, when trauma echoes through our nervous system, or when depression numbs our bodies?
Do we offer it up?
Or do we give it up—do we take responsibility, seek help, and begin the slow, tender work of healing?
The honest tension: Faith vs. inner work
You might be here because you’re wrestling with this very question:
Is this my cross to carry?
Does seeking therapy mean I don’t trust God?
Should I just pray more, suffer better, hold it all together?
Let me offer this: if you’re even asking those questions, you’re already being honest—and perhaps you’re standing at the edge of transformation.
“Come to Me, all you who labor…”
Jesus says in Matthew 11:28–30:
“Come to Me, all you who labor and are burdened, and I will give you rest.
Take My yoke upon you and learn from Me, for I am meek and humble of heart;
and you will find rest for your souls. For My yoke is easy, and My burden light.”
How many burdens do we carry that Jesus never asked us to hold?
Family wounds. Old trauma. Silenced emotions. Repressed anger at God. Constant anxiety. Self-hatred masked as self-sacrifice.
Christ does not shame our suffering.
He draws near to it. And nearer to you thought it. If we just soften. If we learn somehow to trust ourselves (much harder than God) to access and not be overcome by our pain, crack it open, and bring it to Him in the palpable memories alive in our brains.
And sometimes, He sends others—spiritual directors, friends, and therapists—to walk beside us.
We are not meant to suffer alone
From conception, we are formed through relationship.
We are wounded in relationship—and we heal in relationship.
Therapy, at its core, is relational.
A sacred, intentional space where your story is witnessed, where your nervous system can learn to finally rest, where shame begins to loosen its grip.
Therapy is not a rejection of faith—it’s a response to it.
It’s an act of trust that God can meet you in the most hidden parts of your being.
My own turning point
There was a time in my own life when I over-analyzed, over-spiritualized, and over-functioned everything—suppressing my feelings, praying harder, pushing through.
But my body told the truth:
Chronically tight back and shoulders
Shallow breath
Cracking voice
Brain fog
A deep ache I couldn’t name
Compulsive behaviors to satiate that ache
I had confused repression with holiness. Suppression for virtue. Self-reliance for trust in God (ironic on the surface, and only emotionally sensible).
Eventually, I realized that asking for help wasn’t weak—it was faithful. It was the way Christ was inviting me into deeper freedom.
Therapy was where I began to meet myself—and God—in a new way.
Saint wisdom on healing the whole person
The saints were not afraid of embodiment.
St. John Paul II taught that “The body, in fact, and it alone, is capable of making visible what is invisible: the spiritual and the divine.”
St. Hildegard of Bingen, a mystic and healer, believed that the harmony of body and soul was itself a song of praise.
And St. Teresa of Ávila wrote, “The soul and the body are so closely united that it is impossible for the soul to be healthy if the body is ill.”
Their wisdom reminds us: healing is a holy and essential practice through life. The body matters. Integration is the living process of sanctity.
Neuroscience affirms what our faith intuits
Modern science now confirms what the saints knew in their bones:
the body remembers.
Trauma dysregulates the nervous system.
Anxiety and depression aren’t just “thought problems”—they’re physiological survival responses.
The brain’s fear center (amygdala) can hijack your inner peace, keeping you on alert even when danger has passed.
If you’ve prayed, fasted, and begged God to remove your suffering but still feel stuck—you’re not broken.
Your body is asking for safety. For repair. For accompaniment.
And relational, embodied therapy offers that space.
Therapy is not the answer—but it can make room for the Answer
The goal of therapy is not to solve your problems for you.
It’s to offer presence. Perspective. Compassionate guidance. Corrective experiences. Empowering skills learning.
In that space, you may begin to reclaim:
Your voice
Your agency
Your relationship with yourself, nervous system, and emotions
Your connection with God
Your calling to transformation in Christ
Therapy is not an escape from the Cross. It’s a place to learn how to carry it without crushing yourself.
Therapy is softening, getting curious, and creating spaciousness inside to become surprised by the Lord. To see healing as an adventure hand in hand with Jesus, not a battle waged against parts of you micromanage, box in, and bully around, except in the confessional (or maybe even still).
Jesus wants ALL of you. He’s not only allowed every part of you to exist, but He desperately loves and cherishes EVERY part of your being.
Even if you can’t hold it all, He can. A compassionate human being can too. A trained, trauma-informed therapist can too. Contrary to your upbringing, your experience, and the inner vows parts of you have upheld, there are other messy human beings who you can learn to trust, to walk with, to heal with.
Healing is sacred. You are sacred.
“The glory of God is man fully alive.” – St. Irenaeus
You were not made to survive in silence.
You were made to flourish in company.
Healing is not selfish. It’s an offering.
It’s giving your whole self—body, heart, and mind—back to the One who made you.
A Journaling & Embodied Prayer Prompt
I want to challenge you to embody what we’ve been considering here with a practice.
Set aside 15–20 minutes when you can. Find a quiet space. Light a candle if you’d like. Turn on some ethereal, ambient music to support your nervous system to enter into silence.
1. Breathe and connect
Place one hand on your heart, one on your belly. Inhale slowly through the nose, exhale gently through the mouth. Let your body begin to soften.
2. Gently reflect
Ask yourself:
What burdens am I carrying alone right now?
What have I been trying to offer up that may actually be an invitation to healing?
Is there a part of me (a younger part, a fearful part, a tired part) that is asking for attention?
How might Christ be inviting me into healing through relationship?
3. Pray
In your own words or with this prayer:
Jesus, I bring You my hidden parts carrying heavy burdens.
I don’t want to carry them alone anymore.
If You are offering me healing through therapy, through safe relationship, through deeper self-understanding—help me say yes.
Ground me in Your Presence, Holy Spirit.
Teach me to receive love in my body, soul, and mind.Guide me to relate to these parts of me with curiosity and compassion. Amen.
If you’re considering therapy and don’t know where to start, I invite you to reach out or explore my page.
You don’t have to walk alone anymore.
Healing is possible. And Christ is already there, waiting to meet you in it.
