They started with prayer.
Not the kind that came from a place of habit, but the kind that came from a place of warfare.
For the first time in months, she prayed like she meant it.
Like her life depended on it.
Like she was tired of being a prisoner in her own mind.
And as she spoke, as she cried out to God, something inside her shifted.
A weight lifted.
The chains didn’t break in one moment.
But they cracked.
And that was enough to keep fighting.
—
“I’m going to help you,” Pastor Segun said. “But you need to do your part.”
She nodded.
“First, you need to get accountability. Someone who will walk this journey with you. Someone who won’t let you go back.”
Tola.
She knew that was her answer even before he said it.
“Second, you need to replace the lies with truth. Anxiety thrives in darkness. It makes you believe you’re alone, that no one cares, that you’ll never be free.”
He handed her a list of Scriptures.
“But you have a weapon. And the more you use it, the weaker those lies become.”
—
That night, she stood in front of her mirror, holding the paper.
She took a deep breath and whispered, “God has not given me a spirit of fear, but of power, love, and a sound mind.”
Her voice wavered.
She said it again.
Louder.
And for the first time, she believed it.

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