Backed Into a Corner: The Prayer That Changed Everything

Just a few days before graduation, I quit my job in psych. The job in my degree field—with a promotion lined up, a clear path to success—was suddenly gone.

I loved psych. I loved my patients, my coworkers, and being able to apply what I learned in class. I loved making a difference. But truth be told, there was always this looming sense of emptiness. No matter how impactful or chaotic the day was, I never felt whole.

I never seriously considered quitting. The path I created for myself felt solid—I was making a difference. I just needed to get used to the hard days, right?

Then came October 31, 2016.

I didn’t normally work nights, but you know… broke college student life. So I picked up a shift. We were short-staffed—there are usually two techs per side of the unit, but that night, I was the only one.

That’s when it happened.

I was backed into a corner by an aggressive patient. I won’t go into full detail, but I’ll say this: they were inches from my face, yelling their demands while I tried to remain calm. Slowly, I slid along the wall, doing my best to reach the nurse’s station door while stealthily pulling my keys from my pocket, trying not to escalate the situation further.

I managed to get the key in the door, and as I turned it, a teammate on the other side braced herself to help me. I pushed through the door, the patient right behind me—but my coworker managed to slam it shut just in time.

I collapsed onto the floor, bracing myself against the wall. Everything was loud… yet moving in slow motion.

After that horrific event—and some of the changes being made at the hospital—I knew I couldn’t stay.

Picture this: it’s December in Pensacola, day two of unemployment. I’m home alone. The balcony door is open, the sun is shining, and I’ve lit a candle. Normally, this setup would be my happy place—everything clean, smelling good, and bathed in sunlight.

But sadness clung to me like the dead of a Wisconsin winter.

I couldn’t shake the grief of where my life had landed.

Did I just waste 2.5 years in psych?Was my degree now useless?

I’m an immigrant and a failure. A disappointment.

The first in my family to earn a degree, and yet no promising career to show for it.

Did I even help my patients?

Who would hire me now?

How could I fulfill my purpose?

My thoughts were screaming. I laid silently on the couch, but the noise in my head was deafening. My face grew warm, my eyes burned. I’m not sure when it started, but tears began to fall—first silently, then in murmurs, then full sobs.

Eventually, I found myself on the floor, blinded by tears, face soaked. I couldn’t tell where the moisture ended—eyes, nose, sweat—it all mingled and poured onto my shirt.

My expectations, my desires, my sadness, my desperation, my fear of the future—all of it came out with those groans. I cried out to God in a way I never had before. A desperate, honest prayer.

I asked Him to give me something to do. Something I could do with my hands. Something that would bring Him glory. I prayed and prayed until I had no more words left.

In the silence that followed, still on my knees, eyes glazed, mouth dry—I felt the weight lift.

If my eyes had been closed, I might’ve thought I was floating. But they were open, and they were locked on that candle flame.

In that moment, Scripture flooded my mind. One verse stood out, ringing loud like a church cymbal:

James 1:2–3 – “My brethren, count it all joy when you fall into various trials, knowing that the testing of your faith produces patience.”

Still staring at the flame, it hit me like a divine download:

Count It All Creations.

A candle company inspired by different books of the Bible.

It was like a switch flipped. A match was struck. Suddenly, the despair was gone. I got up, went to Dollar Tree and Hobby Lobby, bought candle supplies, came home, and made my very first candle.

And from that day on, I never looked back.

I share all of this to say: Count It All Creations was born out of a deeply vulnerable, intimate moment with God. A moment where He heard me, comforted me, reassured me, and answered my prayer.

The vision behind Count It All is simple: when you receive a candle, a room spray—whatever you choose—I hope you read the verse that inspired the scent and that you feel something.

That you hear that still, small voice.

That you're reassured.

That you smile or find peace in the middle of whatever you’re going through.

Maybe, just maybe, you get an answer to a silent prayer.

I hope you feel joy.

That you grow curious and dig deeper into that verse.

And I hope you choose to invite God into your life.

I plan to keep living a life rooted in vulnerability—seated at His feet. To keep feeling deeply. To live wholly.

Every experience—good, bad, or indifferent—is a chance to create something meaningful that might resonate with you.

I invite you to join me on this journey.

Let’s fill our homes and our hearts with incredible scents and anchoring wisdom.

Let’s use all that life throws our way to build patience.And above all…

Let’s Have Joy.