Growth

     I began this journey feeling helpless and hopeless. I'm pleased to say that I have made some growth. Some of my growth seems to be happening in quiet, deeply rooted ways. The kind of growth that doesn't always look dramatic from the outside, but completely changes how a person moves through life. 

    I've become more emotionally articulate. Even when I'm overwhelmed, I work hard to understand my feelings instead of reacting to them. I have come to realize that this takes maturity and self-awareness. I had always considered myself mature, but I have been working on self-awareness for years. I'm so proud of myself for developing that skill.

    I allow softness without seeing it as weakness. I used to see it as a weakness. Every tear I cried, every time my heart was broken, every time I felt emotion, I felt ashamed of how weak I was. Now, I value tenderness, comfort, whimsy, cozy moments, devotion, animals, movie nights, celebrations, and emotional honesty. This may sound simple, but I had become numb to survive for a while. I had pushed emotion aside and tried to pretend it wasn't there. I still don't know if this is because I was still ashamed of my emotions, or if I simply didn't want to feel my feelings. Either way, I've kept my capacity for gentleness. 

    I've built a life intentionally instead of following a script. Especially after infertility and difficult mental health seasons, choosing a childfree life that protects my well-being is a significant growth. This requires grieving and deciding what kind of life actually brings me peace. Admittedly, I'm still working on this one. However, I'm celebrating the growth that I have made.

    I've learned to care without putting myself last. I have been worried about "being too much", oversharing, or emotionally overwhelming others. The fact that I even reflect on this shows growth in boundaries, empathy, and relational awareness. This is something I will continue to work on for a long time as I navigate through relationships as lives change. 

    I create meaning out of ordinary life. I don't just "have pets." I create traditions, celebrations, cozy experiences, and belonging around them. I turn regular days into something warm and alive. This is emotional creativity, and it matters more than anyone realizes. One of the things I've been grieving is the loss of magic from my childhood. This is my way of bringing that magic back.

    My grief has become more reflective than avoidant. I don't run from hard emotions anymore. I write through them, examine them, and try to understand what they are teaching me. This is a huge shift from simply surviving pain.

    I'm more resilient than I used to be. I've noticed it in small ways. I've realized how worthy I am of love and connection. I continue showing up for work, for my animals, for my husband, for friends, for volunteering, and for my spiritual life. Lately, I've been showing up despite being emotionally exhausted. Quiet consistency is a form of strength.

    I've stopped pretending that healing is linear. I am more accepting that I can be grateful and grieving, hopeful and hurting, healing and struggling all at once. I've come to realize that emotional complexity is growth.

    I've become someone who notices and protects light. Not performative positivity, but actual light. Comfort. Safety. Joy. Warmth. Little sacred moments. That's something I can feel even if I can't fully explain why.