Let’s start with the truth that doesn’t get posted much: real growth doesn’t always look like a glow-up. Sometimes it looks like crying in your car after a hard conversation, walking away from what used to define you, or quietly rebuilding yourself in the dark when no one’s watching.
Growth doesn’t always feel good while it’s happening. But that doesn’t make it any less real.
And if you’re someone who’s trying—really trying—to change, to show up differently, to live more in line with who you want to be, even if it doesn’t look like much from the outside? That is growth. And it matters.
The illusion of shiny success
I remember sitting in my small kitchen one evening, scrolling through photos of someone I used to know—she had just bought a house, gotten engaged, and was vacationing in Greece, all in the same week. Meanwhile, I had just reheated leftovers and was wrestling with self-doubt about whether I was doing anything “right” with my life.
That kind of moment is more common than we admit.
We’re often measuring growth by society’s shiniest standards: a promotion, a marriage, a baby announcement, a new car, an impressive zip code. It’s like there’s a collective highlight reel playing on a loop that subtly (and sometimes not so subtly) suggests: If your life doesn’t look like this, you’re behind.
But we forget something important—growth is an internal process. And sometimes the biggest changes in a person’s life are completely invisible.
You might not see someone learning to set boundaries after years of people-pleasing.
You might not notice the effort it takes for them to get out of bed when they’re battling depression.
You won’t see the journal pages filled with unlearning old beliefs or the therapy sessions that finally unlocked a wound that’s been there since childhood.
And those are the moments that are the growth.
Growth is learning to stay
Let me be honest: for a long time, I thought growth meant constantly doing something—starting a new job, moving cities, saying yes to big risks. And sure, those things can be part of growth. But sometimes the deeper version is learning to stay.
Staying when it would be easier to numb out.
Staying in the discomfort of not having all the answers.
Staying in a tough conversation rather than ghosting or lashing out.
Psychologically speaking, growth often involves what researchers call “distress tolerance.” That’s our ability to sit with uncomfortable feelings—shame, uncertainty, sadness—without trying to escape them.
It’s a skill. And like any skill, it takes practice. But if you’re learning to stay, even just a few seconds longer than you could last year? That’s growth.
It’s not shiny, but it’s sacred.
Rewriting your inner narrative
So many of us carry old scripts that were handed to us before we had a chance to question them.
“If I’m not successful by 30, I’ve failed.” “If I rest, I’m lazy.” “If I’m not constantly achieving, I don’t matter.”
One of the most powerful signs of growth is learning to rewrite those internal stories. Not just once, but over and over again, until they start to shift.
I used to believe that my worth was measured by output—how many hours I worked, how much I got done, how useful I was to other people. Slowing down felt like failure.
It took me years to understand that slowing down was often the exact thing I needed to heal. It wasn’t failure. It was an act of rebellion against burnout culture and perfectionism.
That rewrite didn’t come from one breakthrough moment. It came from years of practicing a new kind of self-talk, often in the quiet. And over time, those new thoughts started to feel more natural.
That, too, is growth.
The courage to rest
We don’t talk enough about how brave it is to rest when you’ve been taught your value comes from productivity.
Rest can look like saying no to something that would earn you praise, but cost you peace.
It can look like giving yourself a slow Sunday, even when your to-do list is calling your name.
Rest can even mean not chasing clarity or closure in a situation that’s still unfolding.
Like Audre Lorde once said, “Caring for myself is not self-indulgence, it is self-preservation.”
There’s a reason rest feels uncomfortable for so many of us. It’s not just about tiredness—it’s about identity. If you’re growing into someone who lets themselves rest, you’re growing into someone who believes they’re worthy of care. And that’s no small thing.
Progress isn’t linear—and neither is healing
Let’s get this out of the way: growth doesn’t move in a straight line.
You’ll have a week where you feel clear and grounded, like you’ve turned a corner—and then a few days later, you’re snapping at someone you love and wondering if you’ve changed at all.
That’s normal.
One of the kindest things you can do for yourself is recognize that non-linear progress is still progress.
Behavioral psychologist Dr. BJ Fogg talks about “tiny habits” and how they create lasting change. The idea is that big transformation starts with small, consistent actions—not massive overhauls.
So maybe growth for you right now looks like:
- Catching yourself before spiraling into comparison.
- Pausing to breathe before reacting.
- Asking for help instead of pretending you’re fine.
None of that makes a flashy Instagram caption. But it’s how change happens.
You don’t need an audience to be evolving
One of the quietest truths I’ve learned is that not all growth needs to be witnessed to be valid.
We live in a world that prizes visibility. But some of the most powerful breakthroughs happen in solitude—in your journal, your prayers, your walks alone.
There’s something beautiful about becoming someone you’re proud of even if no one else knows.
That kind of integrity, that kind of alignment, is what builds a real, lasting foundation. It means you’re not living for applause. You’re living for truth.
Viktor Frankl once wrote, “When we are no longer able to change a situation, we are challenged to change ourselves.” And sometimes that quiet internal shift is the most courageous act of all.
You’re allowed to grow quietly
Not all growth comes with gold stars.
Sometimes it just comes with peace.
With saying, “I didn’t react the way I used to.” Or, “I showed up with more kindness today.” Or even just, “I rested, and that was enough.”
So if your life doesn’t look especially shiny right now—if there are no big milestones to announce or transformations to post—don’t assume you’re not growing.
You might just be planting roots. And roots take time. They don’t seek the sun. They seek strength. Stability. Depth.
If that’s where you are, trust it. That quiet, steady work you’re doing? That’s where the real change begins.