Held Through the Hurt
Held Through the Hurt: Five Years of Hope, Healing, and Holding On by Katy Parker
This month marks five years since everything changed - just a few steps from a place I call home.
After years of travelling the world and moving between countries, I never imagined that the shift that would shape my life most profoundly wouldn’t come from a passport stamp or a plane ticket - but from a colleague’s car, a fractured spine, and a diagnosis of Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD).
And the road since then? It’s been anything but straight. It’s been painful, holy, messy, and healing - all at once.
And here I am, five years on - not healed in the way I once prayed for, the pain still lingers. But, oh, how much I’ve learned.
I’ve learned about my own strength - the quiet, unseen kind. I’ve learned about the people who came and went. And the ones who stayed. But most of all, I’ve learned about God - not in the loud miracles, but in intimate, holy spaces. The nights, when no one understood, He was there, gently holding what no one else could see.
I became - not by choice - a chronic pain warrior. A mental health advocate. A woman learning to navigate pain, PTSD, grief, depression, anxiety, and frustration while still holding onto faith, love, and the sacredness of ordinary days.
No, I haven’t always walked it with grace, nor with patience. But I’ve slowly moved towards a place where comfort and joy can quietly coexist with sorrow. A place where purpose can rise, even in the waiting. Where peace doesn’t require perfection.
It doesn’t mean every day is full of joy. Some days, I still need to cry. Some days, I rest because that’s what my body needs. But I’ve learned what it means to accept. I’ve come to understand that acceptance isn’t giving up. It’s laying down the need to go back to what was, and instead learning to meet God in what is. Because sometimes, healing doesn’t look like being restored to who you were. Sometimes, it comes in different shapes. Sometimes, it’s the strength to keep going. The courage to rest. The grace to stay soft in a world that hardened you.
So today, five years in, I can say: God hasn’t always given me what I asked for, but He’s given me exactly what I needed.
What Hope Has Taught Me: Gentle Steps Toward Healing
Healing hasn’t been linear for me. It’s been layered, uneven, and often quiet - more like tending a garden than chasing a finish line. But over the years, there have been small, faithful rhythms that have helped me keep going. Maybe they’ll help you, too.
1. Listen to Your Body - It’s Trying to Guide You
When the pain rises or fatigue takes over, don’t push it away. Rest isn’t a sign of weakness - it’s sacred. It’s one of the ways God calls us back to ourselves. Back to Him. “Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest” (Matthew 11:28, NIV).
When you pause to rest, you’re not giving up - you’re honouring the temple He made in you. 1 Corinthians 6:19-20, NIV - “Do you not know that your bodies are temples of the Holy Spirit… Therefore honour God with your bodies.”
2. Allow Yourself the Bad Days - Without Apology
Grief, PTSD, and mental health struggles don’t follow tidy timelines. Some days you’ll feel strong. Some days, you won’t get out of bed. Both are part of healing.
Let the tears come. Let the rest be enough. Let the quiet be a form of prayer. You’re not failing - you’re simply feeling. And that’s part of how we heal. Psalm 147:3, NIV - “He heals the brokenhearted and binds up their wounds.”
3. Practice Small, Soul-Restoring Acts of Care
No grand gestures needed. Just a deep breath. A gentle walk. A journal entry. Stretching. Silence. Something that restores you. That says to your mind, “You matter.” These small acts are not insignificant - they are sacred seeds of hope. Zechariah 4:10, NLT “Do not despise these small beginnings, for the Lord rejoices to see the work begin...”
4. Find Safe Community - Even a Small One
You don’t need a crowd. Just one safe person who listens without trying to fix it all. A therapist. A trusted friend. A quiet prayer partner. Letting someone in will remind you that you’re not walking it alone. Isaiah 41:10, NIV - “So do not fear, for I am with you; do not be dismayed, for I am your God. I will strengthen you and help you; I will uphold you with my righteous right hand.”
5. Tend to Your Spirit - Even in the Stillness
Maybe it’s Scripture in the morning, or a whispered prayer at night. Perhaps it’s worship music in the car or five minutes of silence before the world begins to stir. Whatever it is, choose what nourishes your spirit. Let it shift the rhythm of your heart. You don’t have to have big words, just come as you are. You don’t need perfect words or polished prayers. Just show up - exactly as you are. “The Lord is near to all who call on him, to all who call on him in truth” Psalm 145:18, NIV.
6. Re-Define What Purpose Looks Like Now
When old dreams fade away or former roles become unviable, it doesn’t mean your story has ended. Lean into new seasons of purpose: sometimes just showing up and healing itself is purpose. Sometimes, your healing becomes someone else’s hope. And sometimes, simply surviving is holy. Let that be enough for now. Jeremiah 29:11, NIV - “For I know the plans I have for you… plans to give you hope and a future.”
A Prayer for Healing & Hope
Dear God,
Thank You for holding me through every ache, every silent tear, every long night, every moment I’ve felt alone.
Even when I can’t see it, You are near. You are working, even in quiet, hidden ways, I may never fully understand.
Give me grace for this journey.
Help me trust that healing isn’t always loud or quick - that it is sacred, slow, and still holy in its unfolding.
Teach me to be gentle - with my mind, with my body, with my soul.
Let rest become a part of my worship. Let stillness be enough.
Surround me with love. With truth. With community. With people who remind me I’m not alone.
Grant me small moments of peace. Glimpses of hope. And the courage to keep going, one breath at a time.
When I feel I’m failing, remind me that You haven’t forgotten.
That You hold every part of my story - the sad, the messy, the quiet - and You haven’t missed a single page.
You are making something beautiful - even here, even now.
In Jesus’ name,
Amen.
Katy Parker is a trauma-informed well-being writer, author, grief and loss coach, and mental health mentor who helps others navigate invisible grief in a grief-illiterate world. Through her work, she empowers people to express their pain, reclaim their voice, and move forward with purpose, peace, and joy, even when life hasn’t turned out as they imagined.
A trauma survivor and chronic pain warrior, Katy believes that God left her in this world for a reason. Drawing upon her lived experience of trauma and resilience, Katy shares her journey of healing and hope on her Journeyofsmiley blog. She is the compassionate force behind the PTSD: My Story Project and the Grief Stories series - safe spaces where people from around the world share their difficult experiences. Her work is grounded in empathy, faith, and the healing power of storytelling and community. Katy holds a degree in Education and is the co-author of several anthologies. Born in Slovakia, she now lives on the South Coast of England with her husband, Chris.
Katy’s mission is to inspire and empower others to heal—to reconnect with hope, find meaning, and grow beyond survival. She believes that healing shouldn’t be a privilege, but a right everyone deserves. To support this vision, she shares free, practical resources on her Journeyofsmiley blog, offering gentle guidance and encouragement for anyone walking the path of healing.
Grief Stories by Katy Parker from Journeyofsmiley
IG: https://www.instagram.com/journeyofsmiley
FB: https://www.facebook.com/journeyofsmiley
Pinterest: https://www.pinterest.co.uk/journeyofsmiley
