Nothing about my growth was pretty. It was ugly, it was lonely, and it was absolutely necessary.

We love to glamorize healing. Pretty journals, aesthetic meditation corners, perfectly filtered “self-care” snapshots. But the truth? Spiritual and personal growth is often messy AF. It’s not soft focus and lotus flowers—it’s tears on the bathroom floor, rage at the people who broke you, and long stretches of silence where you wonder if you’ll ever feel whole again.

For me, growth meant cutting ties. Not just with toxic acquaintances, but with people I once believed would always be my safe place—family, so-called friends, and those who drained me while calling it love. Walking away didn’t feel empowering in the beginning. It felt isolating. I felt like I had no one for a long time, so I kept to myself. I learned to sit with the silence and face the parts of me I had buried under masks.

And here’s the raw part most people gloss over: it wasn’t just lonely. It was breakdown after breakdown. It came with meltdowns I couldn’t control, overstimulation that left me curled up in the dark, tears that burned, fears that whispered I’d never be enough, and long stretches of pure self-loathing. For a long ass time, I hated myself as much as I hated what I’d been through. I felt like damaged goods—like every trauma had written itself into my skin and bones and I’d never shake it. Healing wasn’t some pretty epiphany. It was me clawing my way through the muck of everything I had avoided for years.

It forced me to confront the shadows that lingered in the corners of my mind—those nagging doubts that I had pushed down for far too long. Each revelation felt like a punch to the gut, as I peeled back the layers of my past. It was not a neat or tidy process; it was riddled with uncertainty and fear. I had to learn to navigate the chaos of my thoughts, to find clarity amid the confusion.

I remember late nights spent questioning my worth, feeling as if every choice I made was wrong. I replayed conversations in my head, dissecting every interaction until I couldn’t differentiate between what was real and what was my own insecurity. The mind has a cruel way of telling you lies, convincing you that you are the sum of your worst moments, but amidst the turmoil, there were glimmers of hope.

Slowly, I began to understand that growth doesn’t come from a place of comfort; it thrives in the struggle. I found strength in vulnerability, allowing myself to feel every emotion, no matter how uncomfortable. The tears I shed became cathartic, a release valve for the pressure that had been building inside me. It took time, but I started to embrace the messiness of my journey.

I learned to celebrate the small victories, like getting out of bed when despair felt overwhelming or reaching out for help when the weight was too much to bear alone. Each moment of bravery became a stepping stone, guiding me toward a version of myself I had yet to discover. The healing path was winding and unpredictable, filled with bumps and turns, but with each step, I gained resilience.

Through this process, I realized that I wasn’t alone in my experiences. I began sharing my story with others, finding connection in our shared struggles. This made the solitude a bit more bearable, knowing there were people who understood the complexity of healing. Conversations became like lifelines, reminding me that vulnerability can create bonds that withstand the test of time.

Ultimately, growth has taught me that it’s okay to not be okay. It has shown me the power of authenticity, encouraging me to own my story, scars and all. Some days I feel empowered and whole, while others I still navigate the remnants of my past. And that’s perfectly fine—it’s all part of the beautifully chaotic journey of becoming whole again.

But here’s the thing: once I stopped pretending, once I let it get as ugly as it needed to be, the real work began.

I started naming my traumas instead of burying them.
I started marking the red flags I used to excuse, and instead of clinging, I walked the hell away.
I stopped carrying the weight of everyone else’s expectations and began asking, What do I actually want? Who the hell am I without their control?

That’s when I began to breathe again. I felt my lungs expand with every deep breath, a step toward reclaiming my space in this world. I rediscovered the power in my voice, learning to express my desires and needs without fear of rejection. I learned that saying “no” was not an act of rebellion, but an expression of self-respect.

Yes, I found my person along the way, someone who gave me space to unravel and rebuild without judgment. This partnership was not just about finding companionship but about finding someone who challenged me to exist authentically. Together, we explored our vulnerabilities, nurturing growth in each other. But even with love by my side, the work was still mine to do. Nobody can walk your fire for you. Nobody can scrub your wounds clean but you.

And here’s the not-so-gentle truth: if you’re waiting for growth to be pretty, painless, or “safe,” you’re not ready yet. A spiritual awakening is not a soft glow-up—it’s chaos. It’s facing your darkest shadows and realizing you can’t outrun them. It’s marking those red flags and actually walking away. It’s losing people you thought you’d never lose and then finding yourself in the wreckage.

This isn’t just a one-time deal; it’s an ongoing process. There will be days when you feel like you’re taking two steps forward only to be pushed one step back. Emotions surge like tides, pulling you under, and it can feel isolating. There are days you will need to remind yourself that growth isn’t linear; it’s messy and imperfect.

And sometimes when you feel you are about to break.. It’s okay to walk outside and scream. Raw, primal, full of rage that’s been bubbling inside you for years. Let it out. FEEL it all. Don’t shy away from the ugly shit life tosses at you. Embrace the pain. Let it teach you. Let it shape you. In the depths of discomfort, you might find profound insights. Take a moment to reflect on your experiences instead of running from them. Then stand back up and roll with the badass you are becoming.

Because emerging from this chaotic transformation means coming into your own power. It’s about wearing your scars like badges of honor, recognizing that every battle has shaped you into the resilient individual you are today. This journey is yours—embrace it, and let nothing hold you back from forging the path that resonates with your true self.

A spiritual awakening is like riding a roller coaster without a safety latch. There will be bumps. There will be lumps. There will be chaos. You will scream, you will cry, you will question everything you thought you knew—and then, somehow, you’ll find a version of yourself you never believed could exist. Each twist and turn offers a new lesson, and as you navigate these uncertain paths, you gradually uncover profound truths buried deep within your soul.

So buckle up. Stop sugarcoating your pain. Face the hard shit. Rip the masks off, even if it stings. Growth isn’t pretty, but it’s the most real and freeing thing you’ll ever do. It’s through embracing discomfort that you truly learn—each moment of suffering is a stepping stone toward authenticity. You will discover that vulnerability is not weakness but a powerful catalyst for connection and healing. As you shed layers of pretense, you will find strength in your rawness and courage in your openness.

In this journey of self-discovery, remember to be patient with yourself. Each day may bring fresh challenges, and some may feel insurmountable. However, it is essential to acknowledge the progress you make, no matter how small. Celebrate the moments of clarity and insight as if they were victories on the battlefield of your mind and spirit. Allow yourself the grace to stumble and fall, for it is in these moments that you learn resilience, adaptability, and grace.

Ultimately, this journey is about reclaiming your narrative. You hold the pen to your life, and you have the power to rewrite your story with bold strokes. Allow your experience to transform you rather than define you. Embrace your uniqueness, and step into your destiny with confidence—because the world needs the brilliance that only you can provide.

Much love and many blessings,
Mrs. B