What’s wild (and, if we’re honest, a little too real) is how self-protection can dress itself up as “wisdom.” Chris shares: “When we’re hypervigilant and overly cautious—not from a spirit of wisdom, but from a spirit of fear—that becomes self-protection dressed up as wisdom.” Read that again! Are we really being “wise” by shutting down connections before they start, or are we just afraid of more pain?

This can sneak into our dating lives. Chris realized he was sabotaging new connections, projecting old pain onto new opportunities ("What if it ends just like the last one?"). He’d spiritualize it, calling it “discernment,” but really he was just protecting himself from feeling rejected again. If this resonates, pause and consider: are your boundaries coming from healthy wisdom—or hidden wounds?

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As a son of therapists, Chris had all the scaffolding of a healthy home, but trauma has a way of rewiring beliefs regardless. He took on the role of caretaker—not just at home, but in dating too. He describes this as the “savior complex,” always trying to fix and solve, because he’d learned value and worth from being the strong one. These patterns led to giving relationships that weren’t reciprocal, and (real talk) being drawn to people who would reinforce his rejection cycle.

We can have a great upbringing and STILL find ourselves stuck in codependency, shame, and performance. Here’s freedom: it’s not always about blaming our parents or our past. Growth means recognizing that even “good soil” can harbor weeds if life’s storms settle seeds of rejection or crippling self-sufficiency.

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Chris’s pivot point came when his health crisis forced him to admit, “I can’t outrun my limits.” He needed help. It wasn’t a linear journey, but with mentors, therapy, and honest prayer, he realized he could either let pain write his story—or bring his heartbreak to Jesus and let Him rewrite it.

He dropped a truth bomb: “Grief does not get the final word in any of our lives. The Lord has done such deep work, tearing down those walls, brick by brick, as I was willing to say, ‘Father, here’s my heart.’” Healing began when he stopped equating strength with silence and learning to let people love him without guilt.

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Maybe the most powerful takeaway is that hope isn’t just optimism or self-help hype. “Hope was not an accessory. It was the foundation,” Chris shared. As Hebrews 6:19 puts it: Hope is the anchor of the soul. Chris challenged us to bring every area—dating, grief, shame—to God in raw honesty and let His truth begin to rewire the narrative.

For those dating while managing chronic illness or feeling “disqualified,” Chris keeps it real—his struggle with feeling like a “burden” isn’t past tense, but ongoing. The journey is not about hiding scars—it's about trusting that in God’s hands, those scars tell a story of redemption.

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Chris reminded us: “Transformation does not happen in one day. It happens daily.” If you want to change, invite others you trust to shine a mirror on your life and help you see blind spots. Growth is valued when it’s prioritized. It's gritty, daily, and anchored in the hope and truth of Jesus—not in flawless performance.

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If you’ve ever felt stuck in self-sabotage, fear, or just plain worn out by waving your “I’m fine!” flag, know you’re not alone. What Jesus did for you is always greater than what happened to you. Healing is possible. Walls can come down—brick by brick.

You are NOT too much. And you’re not less because you need love. Let’s keep walking this road together, fam, carrying hope as the anchor of our souls.

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