This morning, I had a come to Jesus moment. I found myself crying, exhausted, and angry. So tired of tears, so tired of healing, so tired of growing. I texted someone I love, saying I wished this was the end of awakening, because every time I think I’m nearing a conclusion, it just deepens. I found myself wondering why we even came to earth in the first place.
I didn’t know exactly what I was grieving or growing through. All I knew was that I was done. Done with feeling, done with growing, done with it all. And I was angry—angry at the process, angry at myself for being angry, angry at how endless it all feels.
And that’s when it hit me.
When I started this new “blog journey,” I told myself I’d leave my vulnerability at the door. I thought I’d write from a place of strength and wisdom, sharing tools and ideas without getting too personal—a very different style of writing and sharing than what I’ve chosen in the past. But the truth is, that’s just not possible. It’s just not me, and that’s not the kind of connection I’m looking to create.
I do want to continue sharing those informational posts—and I intend to—but I don’t want to just inform or preach; I want to teach. That is what I have answered the call to do. I don’t want to simply tell people what I see or hear, or what to do, without showing them what it looks like to live through it myself. This blog, like life, is a living journey—a space for growth, reflection, and connection in real time. It’s not about perfection; it’s about showing up honestly, even when we feel uncertain.
Because here’s the truth: healing isn’t a linear path. It’s a rollercoaster, and there are seasons where it feels like all you’re doing is going in circles, climbing steep hills just to drop back down. Winter comes, and it’s harsh and relentless, and sometimes you can’t see the point of it all.
I know I’m not the only one who feels this way. I know I’m not the only one who wakes up some mornings and thinks, I can’t do this anymore. And I want you to know: it’s okay to feel that way. It’s okay to cry, to grieve, to be angry. It’s okay to wish it would all stop for a while.
What I’ve learned today—what I’m still learning—is that winter has its place in the cycle of things. It strips us down, bares us to our most honest and uncomfortable truths. And while I don’t believe every struggle is a blessing in disguise, I do believe that being stripped bare allows us to rebuild in ways that are more authentic and aligned with who we really are.
Awakening, like healing, is not a linear experience. It doesn’t follow a tidy timeline or adhere to the schedules we’re so accustomed to in this world. And that’s one of the reasons it can feel so confusing, so disorienting.
As I’ve come to recognize through my own journey, we are not merely “human beings.” We are humans, being. Awakening helps reveal this truth. We are here not simply to do, achieve, and produce, but to experience, to feel, and to exist fully in the present moment. Yet, in a society that measures progress by productivity, this way of living often feels like swimming against the current.
This realization—that we are humans being—is both freeing and challenging. It asks us to slow down, to honor the ebb and flow of life, and to accept that growth doesn’t always look like forward motion. Sometimes, it’s stillness. Sometimes, it’s rest.
So if you’re in your winter right now, I want you to know you’re not alone. I see you. I feel it, too. I know how much it hurts, how exhausting it is to feel like you’re always “healing” and never arriving. And I know how tempting it is to want to give up, to wish for a pause button on the endless demands of growth.
But I also know this: you don’t have to heal perfectly. You don’t have to force your way through. As I shared in the last post, it’s okay to let yourself rest, to feel what you’re feeling without trying to fix it. Sometimes the most healing thing you can do is simply let yourself be.
This blog has always been about connection—about showing up as you are and finding the beauty in shared experience. So this is me, showing up in my mess, my grief, my anger, and my exhaustion. This is me, saying it’s okay to not have all the answers, to not know what you’re grieving or growing through. It’s okay to want to stop.
Healing and awakening are not linear. In a world that moves to strict timelines and ticking clocks, this can feel confusing and overwhelming. But nature reminds us that life doesn’t work that way. Just as winter has its place, so too does this season in your life.
Spring will come. But until then, it’s okay to rest.
The Twin Tree Project 