The Slow Becoming
There's a phrase I've been holding close to my heart lately, one that feels like it encapsulates the core of my journey: The Slow Becoming. It speaks to where I am right now, and the place I've been inhabiting for a while - somewhere in between, where I'm still becoming who I want to be, whatever it will be.
The path I'm on has never been one of instant gratification. It's not about quick fixes or magical transformations, but instead about something much more profound: the slow, steady, and sometimes frustrating process of change. It's about the transformation that happens in small, quiet moments - those small steps that, when you look back, reveal the larger picture of growth.
In many ways, The Slow Becoming is my way of naming the beautiful mess of all the transitions I'm going through. It's about my dreams of nurturing a family one day, but it's also about healing my body after facing health challenges. It's about learning to accept the person I am now, as I move through different stages of womanhood, and it's about being open to the future, even though it's still uncertain.
As I mentioned in my previous post, my health journey has been complex. While that chapter is significant, what matters now is how I'm slowly emerging from that period of struggle. With each small step, I'm waking up, rediscovering my vitality, and starting to embrace life again. The weight of feeling like something was wrong is finally lifting, and I'm learning to be gentle with myself as I reclaim my energy, piece by piece.
But the more I sat with that discomfort, the more I realized that waiting doesn't mean nothing is happening. The stillness became its own kind of movement, and from that stillness, a slow but steady healing began. It wasn't instant or dramatic, but it was real. It was the healing of my body, but also of my heart. Slowly, piece by piece, I started to understand that healing is not something that can be rushed. It's a process, not a destination.
I'm learning that my journey may unfold in unexpected ways. There are moments of optimism, followed by moments of uncertainty, all woven together in a delicate balance. I’ve also learned that there is beauty in this slowness, this unfolding. There's a deep, underlying sense of patience that allows me to stay grounded. It's not about forcing things to happen, but about allowing them to unfold in their own time.
I'm slowly learning to trust my path, whatever shape it takes. Motherhood may be one destination on this journey, but I'm opening myself to all possibilities that might bring meaning and fulfillment. Perhaps my nurturing energy will find expression through other channels - through work, creative pursuits, or connections that I cannot yet imagine. What matters most is not the specific outcome, but the woman I'm becoming through this process.
The Intersection of Hope and Trust
What I've come to learn is that the idea of "slow" is not just a reminder to be patient; it's a reminder to embrace the small, often overlooked progress. It's easy to think that if things aren't moving quickly, they aren't moving at all. But healing and personal growth are rarely linear. They're often about tiny, seemingly insignificant changes that add up over time. A feeling of strength that wasn't there before. A small improvement in energy that signals a bigger shift. A shift in mindset from doubt to hope, from control to trust.
This patience has become my constant companion on this journey. And not just patience in the sense of "waiting for something to happen", but a patience with myself. A patience with my body and its process. A patience that allows me to honor the pace at which I am evolving, even if it feels slow or uncertain.
Learning to trust my journey means accepting that life doesn't always follow the script we write for ourselves. Sometimes the most beautiful chapters are the ones we never planned. I'm finding peace in knowing that my worth isn't tied to any single role or outcome. There's freedom in surrendering to the mystery of what lies ahead while remaining fully present in each moment of becoming.
This patience has given me space to reflect on my own evolution. How, in this moment, I am not just waiting for the future, but becoming in the present. I've had to learn to embrace this process, rather than rushing toward an end goal. I've learned that the becoming itself - the in-between moments, are just as important, if not more so, than the destination I'm hoping to reach.
Perhaps, someday, the evolution of my journey will include the role of mother. Or perhaps my path will lead me to other forms of creation and connection that fulfill me just as deeply. I'm learning to hold my dreams with open hands, not clenched fists. There's a certain power in acknowledging that while I may not control the outcome, I can trust the process of my becoming. Whatever lies ahead - whether motherhood, a different kind of nurturing role, or something I cannot yet envision - I am already whole, already enough, already becoming exactly who I'm meant to be.
And in a delightful plot twist I never saw coming - I actually did become a mother recently… for the second time! This time to a four-legged spark of joy named Kenzo. We weren’t desperately searching for a dog, but somehow, he found his way to us - as if the universe knew our hearts were ready.
It’s been half a year since we said goodbye to Pruutus, my soul dog and constant companion, and not a day goes by that I don’t feel his absence. I wasn’t sure if I could open my heart again so soon. But then came Kenzo—with his 6 AM wake-up calls, his boundless need for attention, and his adorable habit of following me from room to room like a furry shadow. And just like that, I found myself mothering again.
Somehow, this unexpected little being is exactly the kind of joy and healing we needed. Being a dog mom comes with all the love, twice the slobbery kisses - and right now, it feels like the gentlest kind of miracle.