Maybe You’re Not Broken—Maybe You’re Just Growing

I used to think something was wrong with me.

I couldn’t understand why I always felt out of place in rooms full of people. Why I cried so easily. Why I overthought simple things. Why I cared too deeply and got hurt too often. I kept asking myself, "Why am I like this? Why can’t I just be normal?"

I thought maybe I was broken.

But no one saw it. Because I smiled anyway. I made jokes. I helped others. I kept busy. I made sure no one ever suspected I was battling anything at all. And maybe that was part of the problem—I got so good at pretending, I started believing the lie myself.

Until one night, everything cracked.

It wasn’t some dramatic breakdown. No loud sobbing. No smashed things. It was quiet—so quiet it scared me. I sat on my bed, phone in hand, notifications lighting up the screen... and I felt absolutely nothing. Not sadness. Not anger. Just emptiness.

That silence screamed louder than anything ever had.

That night, instead of distracting myself, I did something I hadn’t done in a long time.

I listened—to myself.

I stopped asking what was wrong with me... and started asking what had happened to me.

And slowly, the truth surfaced:

• I wasn’t broken.
• I was just growing.

Painfully, awkwardly, silently—like how trees crack through the ground or how bones stretch during childhood. Growth is uncomfortable. But discomfort doesn't mean damage.

I had outgrown people, environments, habits, and even versions of myself that I was still trying to fit into.

That’s why it all hurt. That’s why I felt so off.

Nobody tells you this: growth often looks like falling apart before it looks like becoming whole.

It’s waking up and not recognizing yourself—not because you’re lost, but because you’re finally changing.

It’s having less in common with the people around you—and realizing that’s a sign of elevation, not isolation.

It’s feeling more sensitive—not weaker, but more aware of what you can no longer accept.

That’s what healing does. It peels back everything that isn't really you.

So no, I wasn’t broken.

I was just in the middle of a transformation I didn’t recognize yet.

And if you feel this way—tired, drained, disconnected—maybe you’re not broken either.

Maybe your soul is shedding a version of itself that no longer fits.

Maybe the reason your life feels uncomfortable is because you’re being pushed into a new season—a version of yourself that’s healthier, wiser, and stronger.

But here’s the truth: growth feels lonely at first. It feels scary. People might not understand it. You might lose some relationships. You might even question your own worth.

But keep going.

Keep showing up for yourself.

Keep giving yourself grace when it’s hard to get out of bed. Keep choosing peace over chaos, solitude over fake company, healing over repeating old cycles.

You don’t have to be perfect to be progressing.

You don’t have to have it all figured out to be moving forward.

And just because the people around you can’t see your growth, doesn’t mean it’s not happening. Some roots grow deep before they ever break the surface.

So the next time you feel broken, pause and ask yourself this:

“What if I’m not breaking down—what if I’m breaking through?”

Because you are.

Quietly. Slowly. Honestly.

And one day, you’ll look back and realize—

• You were never broken.
• You were just becoming.

Final Thought:

Sometimes, we mistake the noise of the world for the truth. But real growth is quiet. It happens when no one’s watching—when you choose yourself, even when it’s hard. Keep growing. The world will catch up later.