When the Meltdown Finally Comes

I had a meltdown.
Not any ordinary flame-out or burnout moment — but an honest-to-God, my-being-can’t-take-no-more kind of meltdown.

Saying that out loud might cause some to look at me through the lens of my profession and assume I’ve become unfit. But the truth is, this moment was long overdue. I was forty-four years past due for a crash-out. Apparently, 2025 was the appointed time to finally pour out my humanity.

For years, I lived in a personal prison of high expectations. The bar was never too high. The challenge was never too great. But the lack of acknowledgment — that’s what broke my heart. Nothing I did seemed good enough to be seen.

Most people think my entire existence has always been rooted in being a pastor or a leader. Truth is, at 13, I dreamed of being rich — owning houses in every direction with a car to match. Ministry wasn’t my plan; it was my call. A divine interruption that pulled me from what I wanted toward my purpose.

Yet every turn seemed to come with someone trying to deter me.
When I wanted to play basketball — too big.
When I applied to Kentucky State — stay and take the sure thing.
When I pursued my first master’s — your grades won’t get you in.
When I was too nice as a teenager, too qualified for a job, too ambitious for new dreams — the story was always the same: stay in your lane.

For forty-four years, I questioned the God in me.
For forty-four years, I wondered if being me was enough.
For forty-four years, I lived with mixed messages about my life.
For forty-four years, I was good enough to care for others but not worthy of care myself.

But Friday came — and it all came out.
The pain of rejection.
The hurt of dismissal.
The agony of disrespect.
The exhaustion from caretaking and the longing to be cared for.

It all came out.

My meltdown was my release — from horrible treatment, from hidden burdens, from the quiet acceptance of pain I never deserved to carry. It was the burning away of the veneer, the unmasking of my own soul.

I am no longer interested in being “the one.”
I have purpose to fulfill, and it cannot include lazy spirits or parasitic energies that leech the life out of what God is building in me.

There is too much to do — too much purpose to live — to keep serving as a host for those who only show up to feed off your strength.

This is the charge: to keep and to glorify God.
That’s the rhythm of my life now — not dictated by those who drain, but by the One who restores.

If you’ve read this far, maybe you’re assessing your own world too.
Sometimes we surround ourselves with crowds, believing they’ll cheer us forward, when in truth, they just want proximity to our light. They offer no aid to our growth. They belittle our pace. They drop us when we no longer serve their purpose.

They forget us in drought but show up begging in our harvest.
They lean on our strength but never return the favor.

So maybe — just maybe — this is your season for a meltdown.

Not to lose your mind.
Not to lose your faith.
Not to lose yourself.

But to reclaim the sanctity of your being.

You and I are created in the image and likeness of God. We are not objects of idol worship. We are flesh and blood — sacred and divine. We have more to us than titles, positions, and connections.

Our lives are holy.
Our existence is sacred.
And sometimes, it takes a meltdown to remember that.