What if you’re not behind?
This is part of the “Staying with Yourself" series, a real-time reflection on the quiet, in-between spaces of personal growth. You are showing up even on the days when nothing feels urgent, and no one’s asking how you are doing. It’s quieter now but it’s real.
In a forest, nothing rushes. No one
asks a tree why it grew slower than the one next to it, why it leans a little
more to the left, or why its leaves took longer to show up this year. The tree
simply exists, rooted where it is, reaching toward the light in its own quiet
way, and growing at a pace that can’t be compared.
Yet here we are, living like we’re on
highways, constantly moving, constantly checking how far we’ve come or how far
we still have to go. We treat life like it’s a straight line with clear
destinations, milestones to hit by certain ages, and detours that feel like
failure. It’s as if we’re all packages with a shipping label, expected to
arrive on time or risk being marked lost.
But maybe the pause you’re in right
now isn’t a mistake or a setback. Maybe the slower seasons in your life aren’t
proof that you’re falling behind, they might actually be preparing you for
something deeper. It’s just that this kind of growth doesn’t photograph well,
and it doesn’t fit neatly into a success story.
Nobody really talks about the heavy
days, the ones that aren’t filled with crisis or joy but that strange
in-between where you’re not sad, not happy, but you are unsure. It’s those days
when the silence around you feels like it’s trying to speak, but you haven’t
quite learned the language yet, and it leaves you wondering if you’re missing
something.
Maybe you’re not behind at all. Maybe
what you’re doing is listening, genuinely listening to your life, and that
requires patience. Not all growth declares its presence. Sometimes it appears
as losing interest in what once captivated you. Sometimes it’s pausing in your
car before stepping out, not from avoidance, but because an internal
transformation is happening and you’re still discovering its significance.
It can look like losing interest in a
path you were once proud of even if you don’t yet know which new path to follow
instead. This part of your life may seem unstructured, understated, or
ordinary, but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t matter. In fact, this may be where
everything important begins.
Breakthroughs don’t always come with
fireworks and grand revelations. More often than not, they sneak up on you in
the most mundane moments like washing the dishes and realizing you’re mourning
the version of yourself that once thought you’d have everything figured out by
now. Sometimes, they don’t feel like much at all. They sound like a deep sigh,
a moment of silence, a quiet question tapping on your shoulder, asking if this
is really who you want to be.
You are in a part of your story that
doesn’t have a name yet and you are not falling behind. Maybe that’s why
it’s hard to talk about. People love sharing the exciting beginnings or the
triumphant endings because it is easier than explaining the in-between space
where everything feels uncertain. It’s messy, raw, and it’s the part most
people skim past or pretend didn’t happen at all.
But look, you’re still showing up, you’re
breathing, you are noticing things, and you’re gradually becoming someone you
might not fully recognize right now, but someone who might eventually feel like
where you belong, and that stuff matters. It’s actually just as important as
any of those big life checkpoints everyone obsesses over. That’s the part
of the story that’s just as important as any finish line. The middle
deserves to be told, too.
If this landed with
you, share it with someone else moving through a quiet season or save it for
the next day the silence gets loud again. Either way, stay close. This is just
the beginning.
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