Conversations around ‘self-growth’ have become almost ritualistic. From the carefully arranged sound bars playing soothing frequencies to the soft amber lights promising calm, even our spaces now mirror this curated quest for inner peace. Journaling our emotions, tracking our habits, breathwork to find calm, listening to one more podcast promising a better mindset, all in the name of becoming our ‘best self'. It sounds evolved and disciplined. Yet beneath this apparent serenity, I observe restlessness.
In the endless pursuit of improvement, edges are so polished that we seem to lose the texture of our own humanity. We curate and optimise, hoping to erase the parts that don’t fit the “healed” version we aspire to be. In the process, we drift farther from our true selves. The self that doesn’t perform wellness.
I believe it is fine simply to exist - the one who breathes without tracking, feels without labelling, and chooses presence over perfection. Over my six decades of existence, I’ve come to see that genuine growth isn’t a clean-up operation. It isn’t about removing fear, deleting shame, or bypassing anger. These emotions are not flaws in need of fixing. I see them as wisdom in disguise, signals that remind us we are alive, learning, and imperfectly whole.
Sadness does not mean we are weak; it often reflects how deeply we valued the closeness and shared time we had as a mother, spouse, friend, or colleague. Anxiety before a project does not mean we are incapable; it usually signals that the work matters to us and we want to honour it well. Regret over a past decision is also perfectly natural, as long as it helps guide you toward wiser and more aligned choices in the future. When anger rises in a difficult conversation, it illuminates a vital boundary worth honoring, and empowering us to voice a bold response as we refuse to try to stay endlessly pleasant. Transformation is about integration, not subtraction.
Grounded people do not see themselves as broken. They have learned to live with softness and contradiction, to sit with pain instead of outrunning it. Their peace doesn’t depend on tools or techniques. It grows quietly from acceptance, from allowing life to unfold without constant self-intervention.
Perhaps the highest form of growth is to stop performing it. To let the body settle. To trade the pursuit of our best self for the companionship of our 'real' self. Let’s grow into a future as human beings rather than human doings.
Wishing us the freedom to be our real, grounded, and authentic selves.
