Part 4 of Series
I’ll never forget the day I went into the master bathroom.
My then husband of seventeen years and I were in the middle of talking divorce. And when I say talking, I mean fighting. Loud, sharp, cutting fights that had been building for years. The house was toxic. For both of us. For our five children. He was drinking heavily, lost in his own pain. I was angry, exhausted, and running on fumes. We both carried so much unresolved trauma that we had never actually faced, only reacted through.
That day I went into the bathroom to pee. Nothing dramatic. Just a normal moment in a very abnormal season of life. I sat down, and as I did, the white door in front of me… changed.
It darkened.
Not slowly. Not subtly.
It was like something moved over it, like a shadow that had weight. The white door turned into this dark, almost liquid-looking substance. The air shifted. The room went cold. My body didn’t ask questions. My nervous system went straight into fight or flight. Every part of me knew one thing.
Get out.
Now.
I stood up immediately, but the door handle… it was gone. Or at least it felt gone. Lost in whatever that darkness was. I couldn’t see it. I couldn’t find it. And for a split second, I felt trapped.
And then instinct took over.
I reached straight into the darkness, grabbed where I believed the handle should be, found it, yanked the door open, and ran. I ran out into the living room, heart pounding, trying to make sense of what had just happened.
I remember saying it out loud, trying to ground myself in logic. That couldn’t have been real. That didn’t just happen.
But what I’ve come to realize over time is this. Just because something doesn’t fit into your current framework of understanding… doesn’t mean it isn’t real.
And just because you don’t have language for it… doesn’t mean it didn’t happen.
What I experienced in that moment wasn’t random. It wasn’t disconnected from my life. It wasn’t some isolated, meaningless event.
It was connected to the environment I was living in. The emotional state of our home. The unresolved trauma. The anger. The chaos. The addiction. The disconnection. The constant friction.
We had opened doors.
Not intentionally.
Not consciously.
But consistently.
This is what people don’t understand.
Doors don’t just swing open in dramatic, obvious ways. They open in micro-moments. In everyday choices. In repeated patterns. In things we normalize because they’ve become so familiar.
This is threshold dynamics. The idea that every thought, every action, every habit either keeps the door closed, cracks it open, or invites something in. Not all at once, but little by little. You don’t wake up one day fully overtaken by anything. You drift there. You allow it. You tolerate it. You partner with it.
One of the lines I wrote in Everyday Demons speaks directly to this. Darkness rarely enters through force. It enters through permission, repeated so often it no longer feels like a choice.
Think about your everyday life.
Road rage.
You snap.
You justify it.
You let it sit in your body.
Judgment of others. You tear someone down in your mind, maybe out loud. You feel a sense of superiority, even if it’s fleeting.
Jealousy. Envy. That quiet resentment when someone else has what you want.
Dishonesty with yourself. Saying you’re fine when you’re not. Saying you want change but doing nothing to create it.
These don’t feel like “spiritual issues.”
They feel normal.
But they are openings.
Every one of them is a micro-agreement.
A small “yes” to something that pulls you out of alignment.
And over time, those small yeses accumulate.
Then there’s how we treat our bodies. We forget that this body is not ours. Not fully. It’s on loan. Given to us by God, entrusted to us to care for, to steward, to honor.
And yet we feed it whatever is convenient. Processed food. Alcohol. Drugs. Endless stimulation. Screens, social media, music that pulls us into lower states, constant noise that never allows stillness.
We don’t just consume food. We consume input.
And all of it programs us.
Every show.
Every song.
Every scroll.
It shapes how we think, how we feel, how we respond.
And we don’t question it because it’s normalized, but normalization does not equal alignment.
Then we talk about faith.
“I believe in God.”
Okay. But what does your walk look like?
Because a walk with God is not a statement. It’s a posture. It’s a daily alignment. It’s choices. It’s discipline. It’s surrender.
It’s how you think. How you speak. How you treat people. How you treat yourself and what I’ve seen over and over again. The moment someone genuinely starts to lean into that walk… things show up.
Resistance.
Distraction.
Temptation.
Old habits come knocking louder than ever.
You want to test if this is real? Start changing your life.
Start going to church consistently.
Start praying with intention.
Start setting boundaries.
Start taking care of your body.
Start being honest with yourself.
Start growing.
And watch what happens.
Things will come at you.
Not always in obvious ways.
Sometimes it’s a thought you can’t shake.
Sometimes it’s an urge that feels stronger than usual.
Sometimes it’s people entering your space that pull you off track.
Sometimes it’s chaos that feels timed.
That’s not coincidence.
That’s resistance.
Scripture speaks clearly to this. “Be sober-minded and watchful. Your adversary prowls around like a roaring lion, seeking someone to devour.” 1 Peter 5:8.
That’s not poetic language. That’s serious instruction.
Be aware.
Be watchful.
Because this is not just about what you do. It’s about what you allow.
The Four Agreements speaks to this in a different but aligned way. Be impeccable with your word. Don’t take anything personally. Don’t make assumptions. Always do your best. These aren’t just personal development principles. They are boundaries. They are ways of closing doors, because when you are impeccable with your word, you stop agreeing with distortion.
When you don’t take things personally, you stop internalizing what isn’t yours.
When you don’t make assumptions, you stop feeding false narratives.
When you do your best, you stay in alignment with integrity.
And then there is trauma.
Unresolved trauma is one of the biggest open doors there is.
Because trauma leaves wounds. And wounds, when not healed, become access points. They distort perception. They create patterns. They keep you looping in the same emotional responses.
They keep you reactive instead of responsive and in that state, you are easier to influence.
Easier to pull.
Easier to keep stuck.
The same is true with disease and poor health.
When the body is inflamed, depleted, dysregulated, it affects everything. Your clarity. Your emotional stability. Your resilience. Your ability to discern. Your body and your spirit are not separate systems. They are deeply connected. So, when you neglect one, you weaken the other.
It’s ALL about awareness.
Because once you see it, you can’t unsee it.
And once you can’t unsee it, you have a choice.
To keep the door open.
Or to start closing it.
One thought.
One habit.
One boundary at a time.
Because the truth is, most people aren’t dealing with one big moment.
They’re dealing with a thousand small ones.
And those small ones… are where everything changes.
What’s one habit, thought, or pattern you’ve been allowing… that you know isn’t aligned?
Let’s talk about it below.
And share this with someone who’s ready to close the door.
As always loving and praying for you and our world,
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This post was previously published on medium.com.
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Photo credit: Rene’ Schooler(Author)
