Growth doesn’t always come with clarity or clean edges. It often shows up in the middle of the unknown—when I’ve left something behind but haven’t fully stepped into what’s next. That in-between space, the one filled with questions and second-guessing, is where so much of my becoming takes place.
Starting fresh isn’t neat. It’s not a checklist or a grand entrance. Sometimes, it looks like waking up anxious but showing up anyway. It looks like building something small when the big picture still feels blurry. It’s doing the next right thing with shaky hands and a hopeful heart.
And in that mess—where I’m not sure if I’m doing it “right,” where I feel like a beginner all over again—that’s where my roots push deeper. That’s where I learn what I value, what I want, and what I no longer need to carry.
The truth is, I don’t grow when everything feels safe and figured out. I grow when I’m stretching, unsure, trying. I grow when I let go of perfection and let life get a little wild around the edges. Because that’s what starting fresh really is: not a flaw, but a fertile space for something new to take shape.