Healing Notes by Mechelle

Working out as the healed version of myself is unfamiliar territory. At thirty-eight, I’m starting over again, reacquainting myself with the barbell, the ropes, the rhythm of CrossFit after losing my mother to breast cancer on October 11, 2022. I didn’t realize how sacred it would feel to walk back into a gym, how something as ordinary as a workout could become a form of worship. The gym has always been an outlet for me, especially during seasons of transition. It’s the place where I’ve wrestled with frustration, fear, and grief—and left it all on the floor. No matter what I carried in, I never left the same.

Today was different, though. For the first time in my life, I walked into a gym and it wasn’t connected to a man. It wasn’t about being seen or hoping for a connection. It was for me—and me alone.

Let me take you back. I was twenty-five, the heaviest I had ever been, still grieving the loss of my father to a heart attack. Food had become my comfort, and productivity my escape. I was working as a financial aid officer at the community college I attended, juggling classes at night and work during the day. The gym on campus was a small space where I’d occasionally step onto the elliptical, doing the bare minimum to say I tried.

Then I met someone—let’s call him Myron—an instructor teaching a class that looked like the hardest thing I’d ever seen. It was CrossFit. Loud music, high intensity, people of all ages pushing through limits I didn’t think I could touch. I was nervous, but he encouraged me to try. So I did. And to my surprise, I found myself loving it. The challenge awakened something within me. I felt strong, capable, alive again. It was the first time since my father’s passing that I felt movement in my spirit. But at that point in my healing, I couldn’t recognize what was really happening. I thought it was him.

I misinterpreted the awakening in me for attraction to the vessel God used to stir it. It wasn’t Myron’s charm—it was God’s hand. He was breathing life back into me, reminding me that I still had more to live for. But because I hadn’t yet learned that difference, I turned that spark into fantasy. I made the vessel the savior. When the reality fell short, I was left disappointed but not destroyed. God was teaching me early that not every connection is meant to be a relationship. Some encounters exist to resurrect something inside you.

Years later, my mother was diagnosed with cancer. I moved to Atlanta to care for her and, once again, the gym became my outlet. That’s when I met another instructor—let’s call him Jim—who introduced me to hip-hop cycling. It was like therapy on a bike, movement mixed with music and energy that felt like church without walls. I found myself pedaling through prayers, tears, and exhaustion. It helped me release the weight of caregiving and find rhythm when life felt unpredictable.

Jim was kind, charismatic, and yes, attractive—but married. A boundary I respected. Yet even in that space, I could feel God maturing me. He was showing me that I could appreciate connection without attaching to it. That I could receive inspiration from someone’s gift without mistaking it for intimacy. That realization was new for me. For the first time, I was learning what it meant to stay present with people while keeping my heart anchored in Him.

When my mom completed her final round of chemo—after nearly twenty surgeries—she was declared cancer-free. Then the pandemic hit, classes stopped, and the rhythm I’d built was interrupted. I tried to keep moving, but it wasn’t the same. Eventually, I moved back to Florida in May 2020. My mom was thriving again, back at work, and independent. Life started to rebuild itself.

And then came another introduction. Another gym. Another lesson. Julio—fit, intelligent, driven. He was managing a CrossFit gym and offered me free passes in exchange for my help with marketing. That same spark I felt years before came rushing back. The excitement, the motivation, the butterflies. I convinced myself that maybe this time was different. But deep down, God was whispering, This isn’t attraction—it’s activation.

Once again, I mistook divine awakening for romantic chemistry. I made the vessel the source instead of the signpost. Julio wasn’t the answer—he was the reminder. God was awakening purpose in me through what I felt around him, not because of him. And when that connection didn’t unfold the way I hoped, I realized that the pattern had finally served its purpose: to show me what healing actually looks like. Healing occurs when the same situation arises, but you respond differently.

Fast forward to now. My mother passed away on October 11, 2022. Losing her brought me into a new kind of grief—one that was deep but not destructive. I could feel her presence in so many moments, cheering me on, reminding me that her love still lives through me. Grief didn’t crush me this time; it refined me. I sat with it, I cried through it, I prayed in it. I learned that grief doesn’t mean absence—it’s often the evidence of love’s endurance.

So when I walked into the gym again this morning, I knew it wasn’t just another workout. It was a full-circle moment. This time, I didn’t come seeking anyone’s attention or hoping to be noticed. I came to honor God with my body, my breath, and my being. The Holy Spirit rode with me there, helped me register, and reminded me that movement is sacred when done with intention. Every rep, every stretch, every drop of sweat felt like communion.

I’m not here for performance; I’m here for presence. I’m here to rebuild not just my body but my rhythm. To honor my mother’s legacy by showing up for myself. To celebrate that God didn’t just restore me—He matured me. I can look back now and see it clearly: every man, every moment, every gym was never about them. It was about God awakening me to me.

Healing isn’t just stillness—it’s movement guided by grace. It’s walking back into familiar places with a new heart. It’s showing up where you once felt broken and realizing you’re whole. I’m not chasing anything anymore; I’m aligned.

Let’s heal in real time, together.

With love and joy,

Coach Mechelle Renee