Somewhere Between Who I Was and Who I'm Becoming

Reflections on growth, grief, uncertainty, and learning to give myself grace.

I haven't written in a while.

Not because I haven't had anything to say, but because, quite frankly, life has been happening. And somewhere between trying to keep up with responsibilities, navigating unexpected changes, and figuring out what comes next, I found myself putting something I genuinely love on the back burner.

Writing has always been a way for me to process my thoughts, emotions, and experiences. Sometimes I write because I have something meaningful to share. Other times, I write because I'm still trying to understand what I'm feeling.

Today, I think it's a little bit of both.

As I sit here in October, reflecting on the past several months, I realize just how much has happened this year. Some moments have been exciting. Others have been disappointing, overwhelming, and emotionally exhausting.

And if I'm being completely transparent, there have been moments when I've questioned whether I'm actually moving forward in life or simply trying my best to keep up.

What does growth look like when it doesn't necessarily feel like growth?

The Things I Thought Would Look Different

At the beginning of this year, I had expectations for myself.

Expectations about my career, my finances, my relationships, and the kind of woman I thought I would be at this stage of my life.

At 30, I sometimes find myself looking around and wondering whether I'm where I'm supposed to be.

There are things I thought I would have figured out by now. Things I imagined would come a little easier. Relationships I thought would last longer. Career milestones I hoped I would have reached.

Instead, I've spent parts of this year navigating career uncertainty, adjusting to a new position, trying to become more financially responsible, and learning how to accept that some relationships don't end with the conversations or closure we hope for.

There were moments when I felt like I was starting over.

And starting over as an adult is interesting because life doesn't necessarily stop to give you time to figure everything out.

Bills still have to be paid. Responsibilities still need to be met. And somehow, you're expected to continue showing up while privately trying to make sense of everything happening in your own life.

As someone who works in the mental health field, I spend much of my professional life encouraging others to practice self-compassion, recognize their progress, and challenge the unrealistic expectations they place on themselves.

Yet sometimes, when it comes to my own life, I struggle to extend that same grace.

I can acknowledge someone else's resilience while overlooking my own.

I can remind someone that healing isn't linear while quietly becoming frustrated with myself for revisiting an emotion I thought I had already moved past.

And perhaps one of the biggest lessons I've been learning this year is that knowing how to practice self-compassion and actually practicing it are two very different things.

Learning to Let Things Be

One of the more difficult parts of this year has been accepting that not everything will make sense to me.

I've spent a considerable amount of time reflecting on relationships, particularly the loss of a friendship that once meant a great deal to me.

I questioned my decisions. I replayed conversations. I wondered whether being vulnerable was a mistake and whether things would have turned out differently if I had simply kept certain feelings to myself.

For a while, I think I believed that if I could understand exactly what went wrong, I would finally be able to move forward.

But I've come to realize that sometimes the search for an explanation can keep us emotionally attached to something that has already ended.

And that's a difficult thing to acknowledge.

Because when you care about someone, whether romantically or platonically, it's natural to want things to end with understanding, mutual respect, or at the very least, a conversation.

But life doesn't always offer that.

Sometimes people leave. Sometimes communication breaks down. Sometimes we react from places of hurt, disappointment, or fear.

And sometimes, despite our best efforts to reflect, apologize, or understand, we don't get another opportunity to revisit the situation.

I'm learning that I can acknowledge where I could have handled something differently without allowing that moment to define my entire character.

I can regret a reaction without regretting that I cared.

I can recognize the importance of someone in my life while also recognizing that the relationship wasn't always what I needed it to be.

I don't think healing always means reaching a point where something no longer crosses your mind.

Sometimes healing looks like remembering without feeling the same intensity.

Sometimes it looks like no longer feeling compelled to reach out.

And sometimes it looks like accepting that a chapter was meaningful, even if its ending wasn't what you hoped for.

The Life That Continued to Happen

Something I've been thinking about lately is how easy it is to become so focused on what didn't work out that we overlook everything that continued to happen around us.

Earlier this year, I was navigating a difficult season professionally and personally.

There were days when I felt discouraged, uncertain, and honestly, a little lost.

And yet, life continued.

I accepted a new position as an associate behavioral health therapist. I continued working toward becoming a licensed clinical social worker. I met new people, strengthened existing friendships, and found myself becoming more involved in communities that genuinely bring me joy.

I also continued running.

If you've followed my journey for a while, you know running has become a significant part of my life.

What started as something I could barely imagine myself doing consistently has turned into completing half marathons, full marathons, and pursuing goals that once seemed completely unrealistic.

This year, I completed my second marathon in Los Angeles.

And recently, I received an email informing me that I had been selected through the lottery to participate in the 2027 Tokyo Marathon.

Yes. Tokyo. Japan.

Even writing that feels a little surreal.

I think about the version of myself who was just beginning to run a few miles, and I wonder what she would think if she knew where this journey would eventually take her.

But what's even more meaningful to me is recognizing that these experiences happened during a season when I was also struggling.

I wasn't completely healed.

I didn't have all my finances figured out.

I wasn't always confident in myself.

I still had moments of sadness, anxiety, self-doubt, and frustration.

And yet, I continued building a life.

I think that's something we don't talk about enough. We don't have to wait until everything feels better to experience something beautiful.

Joy and grief can coexist.

Excitement and uncertainty can coexist.

We can be grateful for where we are while still feeling overwhelmed by what it takes to get there.

When the Things You Prayed For Feel Overwhelming

Another lesson I've been learning is that sometimes the opportunities we hope and pray for come with responsibilities we weren't fully prepared for.

I wanted a new position. I wanted to continue growing professionally. I wanted to work toward becoming the kind of therapist I envisioned when I first pursued social work.

And now that I'm in a new role, there are days when I feel stretched beyond what I thought I could manage.

I'm learning new systems, managing responsibilities, and trying to find a healthy balance between caring for others and caring for myself.

There have been moments when I've questioned my abilities and wondered whether I'm doing enough.

It's a strange feeling to be grateful for an opportunity while simultaneously feeling overwhelmed by it.

The same can be said about running the Tokyo Marathon.

Being selected was an incredible surprise. But shortly after the excitement came the practical realities of planning an international trip, saving money, and figuring out how to make everything work.

And for a moment, I questioned whether I had made an impulsive decision by entering the lottery in the first place.

But I've been reminding myself that an opportunity being challenging doesn't automatically mean it was a mistake.

It may simply mean that I have some planning, learning, and growing to do.

I don't want to romanticize every difficult experience or convince myself that everything happens for a reason.

Sometimes things are simply hard.

But I also don't want fear, financial uncertainty, or the possibility of failure to become the only voices guiding my decisions.

I'm learning to approach opportunities with both excitement and responsibility.

And I'm learning that I can be ambitious without having everything figured out.

Moving Through, Not Simply Getting Over

Earlier this year, I began developing something deeply personal to me: The Run Through It Project.

The idea came from my own experiences with emotional pain, disappointment, and the realization that sometimes the advice to simply "get over it" doesn't reflect how complicated healing can be.

I wanted to create something that encourages people to keep moving through life's challenges, whatever that movement may look like.

For some, it might be running.

For others, it might be going to therapy, taking a walk, returning to a hobby, attending a fitness class, or simply getting out of bed and trying again.

The project is still growing, and there are moments when I wish I had accomplished more with it by now.

But when I think about its purpose, I realize that I've spent much of this year living out the very message I hope to share with others.

I've had difficult days, and I've continued showing up.

I've experienced disappointment, and I've continued pursuing things that matter to me.

I've questioned myself, and I've still taken chances.

Not perfectly. Not always confidently. And certainly not without a few tears along the way.

But I've continued moving.

And maybe that's enough for right now.

Giving Myself Permission to Be a Work in Progress

As the year begins to come to a close, I find myself thinking less about everything I haven't accomplished and more about the person I'm becoming through these experiences.

I still have goals.

I want to become licensed. I want to become more financially stable. I want to continue traveling, running, writing, and building meaningful connections.

I want to grow professionally without losing myself in my work.

I want to experience relationships where vulnerability feels safe and communication is mutual.

I want to continue strengthening my relationship with God, even during seasons when I don't fully understand what He's doing in my life.

And I want to become a woman who trusts herself a little more.

Not because she always makes the right decisions, but because she understands that making a mistake doesn't make her incapable of making good ones.

I think for a long time I've associated growth with having something tangible to show for it.

A degree. A promotion. A relationship. A financial milestone. A personal record.

And while those accomplishments are meaningful, I'm beginning to recognize the quieter forms of growth.

The ability to sit with an uncomfortable emotion without immediately reacting.

The decision to stop revisiting something that no longer brings peace.

The willingness to try something new despite being afraid.

The courage to acknowledge when something is overwhelming.

The choice to be kinder to myself when life doesn't unfold according to my expectations.

These things may not look particularly impressive from the outside.

But they matter.

So, Where Does That Leave Me?

It's October, and I don't have some grand conclusion about what this year has taught me.

There are still things I'm figuring out.

There are still responsibilities that feel overwhelming, financial goals I'm working toward, and moments when I wonder whether I'm making the right choices.

But there's also a lot I'm looking forward to.

I have races to train for, places I hope to visit, stories I want to write, and a life I want to continue building.

And maybe the most important realization I've had is that I don't want to spend so much time criticizing where I am that I miss the life I'm actually living.

I don't want to look back years from now and realize that I was so consumed with becoming a better version of myself that I never allowed myself to appreciate the woman I already was.

The woman who kept showing up.

The woman who cared deeply, sometimes to her own disappointment.

The woman who made mistakes, reflected, and tried to do better.

The woman who continued pursuing her goals even when she questioned whether she was capable of achieving them.

The woman who found joy in running, community, writing, and the small moments that reminded her life was still worth looking forward to.

I think she deserves a little more credit.

Honestly, I have not completely healed, figured everything out, or become an entirely new person.

But I do have the understanding that I'm allowed to be proud of myself while still being a work in progress.

I'm allowed to grieve what didn't work out and celebrate what did.

I'm allowed to change my mind, make adjustments, and pursue a different direction.

And I'm allowed to enjoy my life before every piece of it falls into place.

Because maybe growth isn't always about becoming someone new. Sometimes it's about learning to see yourself with a little more grace while you're still becoming.

And for now, I think that's a pretty meaningful place to be.

Until next time,

Nikki