I Couldn’t Walk Across the Parking Lot

For years, Ben and I circled parking lots like it was a sport. We weren’t being picky. We were desperate. Even the thought of walking across the lot to the store made my heart race — not from effort, but from dread.

I’d sit there in the passenger seat, feeling the weight of my body pressing into the seatbelt, the ache in my legs, and a deep, quiet shame that had become normal. The car’s air felt heavy, like it carried all the years of frustration we never talked about.

I felt shame, anger, and sadness

As we circled, I’d see people walking easily — young moms pushing carts, older couples holding hands — and it hit me like a punch. Shame that I couldn’t move like that. Anger that I’d let myself get here. Sadness that this was my life.

I didn’t say much to Ben. Back then, we didn’t talk about things like that. We were both frustrated, both trapped in the same slow spiral.

When exhaustion turns into despair

It wasn’t just being out of shape. It was being spiritually empty. I was exhausted even when sitting still, carrying the quiet thought that maybe it would be easier not to wake up at all. I didn’t know God then. I didn’t know there was another way to live.

Looking back, that parking lot moment is burned into my memory. It wasn’t my turning point — not yet — but it was the before picture. The moment that showed me how far gone I was.

When faith enters the story

My change began later, when I reached the end of myself and finally turned to God. I stopped trying to fix everything alone. I started praying, reading His word, and listening for guidance. And when He gave me the strength to act, I acted — even when it was small things.

I cut out sugar and soda. I walked every day, even if it was just to the mailbox. I lifted weights — first light ones, then heavier. I got sunlight, ate real food, and moved my body with purpose. And little by little, the shame started to lift.

Now I walk with gratitude

Today, when Ben and I pull into a parking lot, I park far away on purpose. I walk across with a steady stride, not in panic. I breathe in fresh air. I feel strong. I feel alive.

That moment years ago reminds me of how lost I was — and how much grace there is in getting a second chance.

Just start. You’ll never feel ready. 

You’ll never think, “I’m healthy enough to begin.” That’s fear talking. Start small, even if it’s just taking one walk or cutting one food that’s been holding you back. When God gives you the strength to move — move.

“But those who hope in the Lord will renew their strength; they will soar on wings like eagles; they will run and not grow weary, they will walk and not be faint.” — Isaiah 40:31