I used to think success would happen fast.

That if I worked hard enough, posted consistently enough, and wanted it badly enough – things would just click. My career would take off, my content would grow, and I’d finally feel like I’d caught up.

But growth, at least real, lasting growth, doesn’t look the way I imagined it would.

It’s slower. Softer. Sometimes invisible.

It’s learning to show up even when things feel quiet. To keep building, even when no one seems to be watching. To trust that what’s meant for you won’t pass you by, even if it’s taking its time.

Lately, I’ve noticed that this feeling of being “behind” doesn’t just show up in my work. It shows up in other parts of life, too.

Friends getting married, buying houses, having kids, finding their “forever” jobs.

And while I’m genuinely happy for them, there are moments when I can’t help but look at my own timeline and wonder, “why am I not there yet?”.

Some days, sitting with these thoughts doesn’t feel so peaceful. Sometimes, the quiet of slow growth leaves me feeling exposed. I cry, I spiral, I question whether I’m moving at all. I wrestle with disappointment, frustration, and the ache of wanting things to look different, to look “caught up.” The quiet (and sometimes loud) sadness of seeing the future I hope for, and realizing it’s not here yet.

And that’s okay. Growth doesn’t mean never struggling. It means showing up even when it’s messy, even when it’s hard, even when you don’t feel steady.

But the more I sit with it, the more I realize that everyone’s growth moves at its own pace.

And maybe mine was never meant to look fast or flashy. Maybe it was meant to look steady.

There’s a kind of beauty in slow growth that I used to overlook.

It gives you time to evolve with your dreams instead of rushing to reach them. It teaches patience, humility, and presence. It lets you actually feel your life unfolding instead of racing through it.

Some days, I still feel that tug – that urge to compare, to speed up, to catch up.

But I’m learning to breathe through it and remind myself that growth isn’t a race.

Slow growth builds roots.

And I’d rather have roots than rush.