Growth Beyond Obstacles

Hello from Christiansburg, Virginia.

This week, I’m writing to you from a place where I’ve experienced both good and difficult memories. Christiansburg holds a complicated kind of nostalgia for me—it’s where some of my growth began, but also where I learned that healing doesn’t always happen in a straight line.

Today, though, I’m here for a different reason. I came back to honor someone I thought very highly of—someone I had the privilege of working alongside during my internship. His passing was sudden, and it’s been heavy on my heart. He was the kind of person who showed up for people—not in loud, showy ways, but with a quiet, steady kind of presence that made you feel like you mattered. I’m incredibly grateful that I was able to take some time off work to come here and pay my respects. He deserved that, at the very least.

Being here again has given me a moment to pause and reflect. In the stillness, in the grief, I’ve found myself revisiting the journey I’ve been on over the past few years—and how drastically life can shift when you commit to working on yourself. How healing isn’t a destination, but a choice you make every single day.

So today, I want to write about that. About how working on yourself becomes more than a routine—it becomes a form of devotion. And how, once you taste what it’s like to grow into your potential, you can’t go back. You become addicted… but in the best way possible.

The Beginning of the Self-Work Journey

When people talk about “working on themselves,” it often sounds like a vague, distant goal. It’s tossed around in conversations like a buzzword—“I’m just working on me right now.” But what does that really mean? For me, it started when everything in my life felt like it was falling apart. I was burned out, physically and emotionally exhausted, and honestly, just tired of feeling like a spectator in my own story.

The decision to truly commit to myself didn’t happen overnight. It came in waves. It came after too many nights lying awake wondering why nothing ever seemed to change, why I kept repeating the same patterns, why I never felt truly seen—even by myself. It came after I hit enough walls to finally sit down, breathe, and ask the hard questions.

What am I running from?

Why do I self-sabotage?

What would happen if I gave myself permission to become the version of me I keep dreaming about?

That’s the moment it started—not when I had all the answers, but when I finally got honest enough to ask the questions.

From there, it looked like small steps. Drinking more water. Saying “no” when I usually said “yes.” Moving my body even when I didn’t want to. Going to therapy. Journaling the ugly, messy stuff I was too scared to say out loud. Letting go of people who only knew the broken version of me.

It was painful. But it was also the first time I ever felt free.

The Transformation – How Growth Becomes A Devotional To Yourself

There’s something wild and beautiful that happens when you stop abandoning yourself and start choosing yourself—daily, intentionally, even when it’s hard. At first, it feels foreign. You second-guess your worth. You worry about what others will think. You fight the guilt of putting your needs first, especially when you’ve spent years prioritizing everyone else.

But then the shift begins.

You wake up one morning and realize your clothes fit differently. You take a walk and notice your breath doesn’t catch as quickly. You catch yourself smiling—not because something amazing happened, but because you feel at peace for once.

That peace becomes irresistible.

Suddenly, you want to show up for yourself—not out of punishment or shame, but out of love. You fall in love with early mornings, the quiet hum of progress, the feeling of moving closer to your goals. You notice how your mind clears when you eat foods that fuel you. How good it feels to stretch, to sweat, to move with purpose. How powerful it is to say “I don’t accept that anymore” and mean it.

It’s no longer about becoming someone new—it’s about returning to yourself. The version of you that was always there, buried beneath fear and habits and trauma. The version who knows what she wants and isn’t afraid to fight for it.

This is where the addiction kicks in—not in chasing perfection, but in chasing presence. In realizing that every step forward is one you never thought you’d be brave enough to take.

And now? You’re running.

Navigating Setbacks and the Cost of Growth

Here’s the part not enough people talk about: growth has a cost.

It’s easy to romanticize the transformation—the glow-up, the weight loss, the mental clarity, the confidence—but healing also demands that you face the parts of your life you’ve tried to avoid. And that’s messy.

For every high, there are lows that test your resolve. There are days you wake up and don’t recognize yourself—not because of how much you’ve grown, but because of how unfamiliar it all still feels. You mourn old versions of yourself, even the ones who were hurting, because at least they were predictable. Comfortable in their chaos.

You’ll lose people along the way. Not everyone will clap for your progress. Some people liked you better when you were quiet, agreeable, shrinking yourself to fit into their comfort zone. They’ll call you “different” like it’s an insult. They’ll accuse you of changing—as if that wasn’t the entire point.

And then there are the setbacks. Illness. Injury. Grief. Life doesn’t pause just because you’re trying to heal. You’ll be tempted to quit. To go back to what was easier, even if it wasn’t better.

But here’s what I’ve learned: every setback reveals how badly you want the life you say you’re building.

You show up anyway.

You pivot, you adapt, you cry if you have to—but you don’t go back. Because the version of you who started this journey? She fought too hard for you to give up now.

And you owe her that.

Honoring the Journey and the Present Moment

Now, sitting here in Christiansburg, surrounded by the echoes of memories and the weight of loss, I feel the full circle moment of this journey.

I didn’t expect to be back here, not like this—not grieving someone who once cheered me on quietly from the sidelines, who treated people with dignity and patience, who showed me what leadership rooted in empathy looked like. His passing reminded me that life is fragile, and none of us are promised a “someday.” All we have is now. This moment. This breath. This choice to become.

And that’s what self-work is, really. It’s the decision to stop waiting for a perfect time. To stop putting your healing, your health, your happiness on hold. It’s about claiming your place in the world—not because you’ve arrived at some final destination, but because you finally believe you’re worth the effort it takes to grow.

I am not the same person who once walked these streets filled with self-doubt and fear. I’m softer now, but stronger. More grounded, more alive. I’ve learned how to give myself grace and how to hold myself accountable. And most of all, I’ve learned that healing isn’t about fixing what’s broken—it’s about uncovering what’s always been whole.

So if you’re somewhere in the middle of your own journey, let this be your reminder: the work is worth it. You are worth it. Keep choosing you, over and over again.

Because once you taste what becoming your best self feels like…

You’ll never settle for less again.

Until Next Time.

Kaylee Ann