When Growth Gets Heavy

There’s a potted lily in my living room, one my husband just bought me, and it stopped me in my tracks.

It had grown tall, its bloom full and radiant. But the flower at the top was so large, and its stem so long, that it couldn’t support the weight anymore.
It bent.
Not because it was weak, but because it was too full of life.

And instead of breaking, it leaned—resting against the other blooms for support. That image struck something deep in me.

Because that’s exactly what growth can feel like.

We like to think of healing as light. That once we’ve done the work, we’ll feel freer, stronger, more independent.
But sometimes, growth brings new weight.
The kind that humbles us. That asks us to admit: I need help here.

Writing Purity Reclaimed has been that kind of growth.
Each word peeled back a layer.
Each memory carried the weight of everything I’d survived.
And as freeing as it’s been… it’s also been heavy.

What moved me even more about this lily was something I didn’t notice at first: the blooms weren’t all the same color.
One plant, many shades.
A soft pink here, a deep rose there, ivory petals in between.

That, too, felt like a mirror. My healing hasn’t been one note. Some days are bold and blooming. Others are pale with grief. And sometimes, they exist side by side.

This plant didn’t just remind me that I’m growing.
It reminded me that growth is complex.
That even beauty can feel like a burden when we carry it alone.
And that needing support doesn’t make us fragile—it makes us real.

So if you’re in a chapter where you’re rising, but feeling the weight of everything it took to get here…
If you’re blooming, but also bending…
Know that it’s okay to lean.

Even the strongest blooms need support.