THE POWER OF BECOMING

We live in a world that celebrates the finish line, a world that is obsessed with arriving. We are taught to chase the finish line, to strive for the big reveal-the job, the recognition, the polished version of ourselves. The “I’ve made it” moment. We often overlook the beauty of the in-between. The part where we're not quite "there" but no longer where we used to be. The part where growth feels messy, invisible and uncertain. But lately i've started to understand that the real magic — the real transformation — happens in the in-between. .

It happens in the becoming.

I used to feel frustrated by that space. The waiting. The wondering. The feeling that I wasn't doing enough or moving fast enough. But then I realized, this is it! This is the work. The small steps, the quiet efforts. The moments no one sees. They are shaping something real.

As the firstborn in a family of five, I’ve always felt that invisible pressure — the kind that doesn’t scream, but weighs heavy in silence. The pressure to be an example. To do more. And when I didn't I'd feel like I was failing...Like I was too relaxed and too behind. But slowly I started to realize that becoming is not about meeting everyone's expectations. It's about meeting myself where I am. It's about learning to breathe, to grow, to take small steps even when they don't look impressive. It's about rewriting my story in my own voice, at my pace.

My sisters look up to me like I’m the smartest person alive, like I can be a solution to all their problems. They believe in me so fully, purely, it shakes me. Sometimes I want to live up to that image. Sometimes I’m scared I won’t.

And still, I try. I stumble forward. Because even when I feel like I’m not doing enough — I’m becoming.

My mother… oh, my cherry mom. Her love for me is the kind that doesn’t come with conditions. To her, I’m not just her daughter — I’m her first love, her everything. She once told me,

“If you ever die, I will collapse and die right away…"

Those words stay with me. They live in the back of my heart like a soft echo. Not because they’re tragic — but because they’re full of love so deep, it roots me. It reminds me that I carry something sacred. That I matter.

That’s why I aim for greatness. That’s why, even in my darkest days, I refuse to give up.

Because I’m not just becoming for me — I’m becoming for her. For them.

For the ones who call me brave when I feel afraid.

For the ones who see light in me even when I feel dim.

For my siblings, who trust me like I hold the whole world in my hands.

For my mother, who gave me hers.

I owe them the most beautiful things in life.

And I owe myself the grace to grow into the person they already believe I am.

I'm not the person I was last year, last month or even last week. I'm becoming- through every word I write, every idea I explore,every doubt I push through. I'm building something. Maybe not something big or loud (not yet) but something honest and mine.

This journey isn’t about being perfect. It’s about being real. It's not about arriving first. It's in showing up. It's in blooming slowly. It's daring to begin.

It’s about letting myself unfold, one soft step at a time.

It’s about crying sometimes. Laughing through tears.

Starting over. Trying again. And again.

So here I am — becoming. Not rushing. Not hiding.

Just becoming. Fully. Deeply. Unapologetically.

And that, I’ve learned, is the most powerful thing I can do.