The Cost of Growth and the Rewards of Commitment

Living a meaningful life is not just about achieving comfort or success—it’s about growth. And growth, by its nature, demands change. It’s messy. It’s uncomfortable. Yet it is also profoundly liberating. Stepping onto a spiritual path is not for the faint of heart. It requires bravery to leave behind what no longer serves us, to release control, and to embrace the unknown.

For me, meaning and purpose have always been guiding principles. They’ve evolved as I have, shifting with the seasons of my life. At one time, I channeled my desire for growth into traveling to remote corners of the world. At other times, I was fully immersed in art, fashion design, and millinery, or dedicated myself to learning new skills. I spent years in marketing and advertising, corporate community investment, and working with a family foundation alongside incredible international charities. Each of these pursuits was driven by passion and curiosity, shaping me profoundly as I grew and evolved with the energy of each endeavor.

It doesn’t have to be spirituality for meaning and purpose; these can be pursued in countless ways. The point is growth. Growth is the most crucial aspect of surviving and thriving on this planet—a driving force for discovery and possibility. It’s the excitement of asking, “What am I capable of? What else is there?” This constant drive to grow, to push our edges, and to see what we can become is what fuels meaning and purpose in life.

In the past, I might have been terrified of stepping into new spaces or taking up too much room. I spent years trying to be likable, to adjust myself to suit others, and to avoid making anyone uncomfortable. But none of those people are in my life now, and the time spent moulding myself to their expectations feels like a waste. I no longer feel that fear. It’s not my job to make others like me. That’s not a priority for me anymore.

Now, I focus on being unapologetically authentic to myself. That doesn’t mean I don’t care about others—I care deeply. I care about kindness, lifting others, and creating empowering spaces for women to thrive. But if standing in my truth, being strong in my presence, or taking up space challenges someone else’s ego, I’ve learned it’s not my responsibility to manage their discomfort.

This shift has allowed me to truly stay in my own lane, to focus on my journey without comparison or competition. Everyone has their own cabin on the train, their own ticket, and their own destination. I’m content to focus on mine. Even awkward or embarrassing moments don’t faze me anymore—I actually find them funny. I’m no longer easily embarrassed, because I’m finally comfortable in my own skin. The more I embrace my life, forgive myself, and let go of the past, the more I find joy in simply being here. It’s taken decades to get here, but I love the person I’ve become and the life that I’m living and creating with the very few souls who I truly adore.

But let’s be clear: stepping onto this path isn’t a simple decision. It’s not the “safe” choice. It’s a commitment to letting go of comfort, of societal expectations, and sometimes, of relationships and identities we once held dear. It’s about being comfortable with discomfort.

Over the past two years, my life has become almost unrecognisable. My son, now an adolescent, challenges me with his intelligence and independence, pushing me to grow in ways I never anticipated. I’ve started a business, committed fully to spiritual work, and even adopted a cat—despite being allergic and having grown up hating cats.

With these changes came loss. Many people I once considered constants in my life are no longer part of it. Relationships that felt safe and enduring ended abruptly. Some exits were necessary, others unexpected, and each brought a mix of mourning and relief. These losses taught me that growth often feels like destruction—a tearing down of the old to make way for the new.

But mourning isn’t something to fear. I’ve grieved deeply, not only for people but for past versions of myself. Growth asks us to face our shame and honour the chapters of our lives that brought us to where we are now. Letting go is painful, yes, but it’s also an act of creation. It makes space for what’s next.

One of the most profound shifts I’ve experienced is the ability to view my life from a bird’s-eye perspective. When we detach from the emotional intensity of our experiences and see ourselves as part of a greater story, the pain of letting go transforms into something more neutral—like watching paths diverge. This perspective doesn’t erase the mourning process but helps me honour it without being consumed by it. Losing certain relationships, even those I thought were lifelong, has been devastating but also liberating. It created space for new wisdom and opportunities, and over time, I’ve learned to approach this process with curiosity rather than fear.

Growth isn’t a straight path. It’s a haunted house of surprises—sometimes terrifying, sometimes exhilarating, always transformative. Growth often asks us to revisit chapters of our past with fresh eyes. It’s like returning to an old level in the game with new skills, seeing where you stumbled before and navigating it with newfound confidence. For me, this has meant reflecting on past mistakes and choices without shame but with compassion for the version of myself who was doing her best at the time. We’re not meant to erase our pasts but to embrace them as essential parts of our story. Without those experiences, I wouldn’t have the perspective or resilience I have today.

In this journey, I’ve faced a crisis of faith—a deep sense of betrayal by the universe. For a time, I felt completely unsupported, as though everything I believed in had failed me. That disconnection forced me to confront limiting beliefs and find new ways to move forward. When the dust settled, my faith was stronger, my connection deeper, and my understanding of the spiritual path more nuanced.

Joy, for me, comes from connection, accomplishment, and love. It’s found in moments like watching my cat, Marshi, loafing on a tea towel in the kitchen or having deep, challenging conversations with my son. It’s found in the richness of a life lived within my means, free from the endless pursuit of material wealth.

Meaning and purpose are not static. They grow with us, shifting as we evolve. They remind us that every ending holds a new beginning, and every painful transformation carries the seeds of wisdom and beauty. Growth is messy, yes, but it is also profoundly rewarding.

To live a meaningful life is to commit to this process. It’s to step into the unknown with curiosity and courage, to embrace change, and to trust that the journey—though challenging—will ultimately lead us to a deeper connection with ourselves and the world around us.

My mornings are a sacred ritual, the cornerstone of my day and my connection to meaning and purpose. Every day, I wake early to dedicate time to practices that nourish my spirit. Without even leaving bed, I meditate, work with my allies, energy, and spirit, and engage in practices that could be described as Earth healing—though the scale feels more expansive than that term allows. These rituals are not just tasks; they are anchors that define my priorities, my values, and what I am most committed to. And of course, Marshi, my beloved cat, is part of this sacred time. Whether it’s gazing at him, playing with him, or simply sharing space, he brings a sense of joy and grounding to these moments. What you start your day with is crucial; it speaks volumes about what you value and what drives you. If it’s not something you enjoy, you won’t do it daily—and consistency is key. These rituals have evolved with me, growing as I grow, and they remain the truest indicator of what gives my life meaning and purpose.

Choosing this path comes with costs—discomfort, aloneness and the inevitable pull of a society that rewards stability over evolution. Yet it also brings unparalleled rewards. For example, my life is rich not because it’s easy or materially abundant, but because it’s deeply aligned with my values. This alignment has allowed me to say no to distractions, to focus entirely on my son, my spiritual practice and the work I feel called to do. The cost of growth is high, but the rewards—clarity, joy, and a profound sense of purpose—are worth every step.

Growth isn’t about becoming someone else; it’s about becoming more of who you truly are. It’s a lifelong process of shedding layers, breaking patterns, and stepping into your power. The journey isn’t linear and it’s rarely easy, but it’s always transformative and meaningful. And in those moments when everything feels like it’s falling apart, remember: endings are just beginnings in disguise. The life waiting on the other side of change is worth it.

Having the courage to look at the aspects of ourselves that are conditioned by society, our upbringing, or our communities is transformative. It takes bravery to go against the grain of what holds us safe—the opinions of others, the expectations of our environment, and even the fear of losing connection. For a long time, I lived in fear of upsetting people. I bent and shaped myself to avoid conflict, to fit in, and to keep the peace. But releasing that fear has been one of the most liberating shifts in my life.

This isn’t about being arrogant, obnoxious, or aggressive—it’s about having the courage to stand in your values, to be seen, to be heard, and to stand on your own two feet. I don’t engage in unnecessary debates, nor do I feel the need to prove my point to everyone. If someone holds a different opinion, I’m perfectly fine saying, “You’re right,” and letting it go. But I no longer allow the opinions of others—whether positive or negative—to dictate my choices or silence my voice.

Instead, I’ve learned to channel my thoughts and feelings into something constructive, whether it’s writing, creative expression, or simply living authentically. There’s so much freedom in not worrying about what anyone else is thinking or saying. It’s a level of independence I’ve worked hard to cultivate, and I’m finding great joy in this stage of my life.

I recommend this freedom to anyone. There’s nothing to fear. You can reinvent your life, make changes, and grow in ways that might feel uncomfortable at first but are ultimately so rewarding. You don’t have to stay small to make others comfortable. Have the courage to embrace your fullness, to take up space, and to live boldly. It’s worth it.