The Day My Faith and Patriotism Fell Out of Sync

I never expected to feel afraid in my own city. But when armed, masked men began appearing in the streets—chasing and detaining people based on how they looked or sounded—something inside me cracked.

Two of my deepest identities collided that day.
One was formed in the Catholic Church, where I was taught to see the divine in every human being.
The other was shaped by my years in uniform, believing in America’s promise to be a force for good.

I had built my life around those ideals—faith and service, compassion and duty. But as I watched what was happening, both foundations shook beneath me. The compassion I was taught to live by and the patriotism I had embodied as a soldier no longer felt like allies; they were at war within me.

My identities told me that something terrible was happening—and that it was my responsibility to do something about it. But I didn’t know what to do. The helplessness that followed felt like failure. My chest tightened. My thoughts raced, as though my mind might find the answer if I just thought harder.

For days, I lived in the churn—scrolling for news, searching for reassurance, watching people argue online about what was “really happening.” The noise was unbearable, but I couldn’t look away. My nervous system believed that if I stayed vigilant, I could somehow prevent the worst.

Then, in a rare moment of stillness, I remembered something I teach my clients all the time: our suffering isn’t shaped by what happens, but by the story we tell about what’s happening.

And the story I was telling was this: The world is falling apart, and I can’t stop it.

That insight cracked open the panic. The world hadn’t changed—but my awareness had. I could see that my fear was actually grief—grief for the betrayal of ideals that had once made me feel safe.

Naming it changed everything. Grief gave my emotions a container. It gave me permission to stop running from the pain and start listening to it.

I cried—a lot. I talked out loud to myself, to God, to no one. The heartbreak moved through me until it no longer felt like a storm but a wave. And when it passed, something quiet remained: a tender awareness that I hadn’t lost my faith or my patriotism. I was simply seeing them more clearly—without the armor of idealism.

For the first time in days, I could breathe.

That breath reminded me that awareness is the beginning of healing.

I couldn’t change what was happening around me, but I could stay connected to what was happening within me. That’s where power lives — in the space between reaction and response, between fear and faith.

As I began to name my grief and listen to it, I found something I hadn’t expected: I was being invited into a deeper kind of alignment — one that doesn’t depend on certainty, only honesty.

If you’ve ever felt the ground shift beneath your ideals, take heart. The breaking open isn’t the end — it’s the beginning of your return to yourself.

Download the Energy Alignment Map™ to explore how awareness (Know), compassion (Love), and surrender (Grace) can help you come home to your own truth — even when the world feels unsteady.

Next week, I’ll share what happened when I reached out to my family — and what I discovered about the difference between seeking comfort and claiming my own power.