The Sunday Edition is Tuesday’s little sister—off-the-cuff updates I’d bring up over a coffee catch-up with a friend.
🎥 ‘MARTHA’ on Netflix: Martha Stewart was, in many ways, the original influencer, inspiring women to create beautiful homes and surroundings, even as this documentary shows the unhappiness that existed beneath the shiny exteriors she created. It’s particularly interesting to watch this after reading Ina Garten’s book. Both women came from similar backgrounds, insofar as they were both held to impossibly high standards by militant fathers that contributed to serious work ethics, but where Ina always valued relationships and welcomed the messiness of life, Martha seems married to perfection. This documentary, which features interviews with Martha (although she wasn’t a fan of the final product), is a fascinating look at a women who carved a role for herself, blazing trails as she went.
📚 Madwoman by Chelsea Bieker: What begins as a satire on wellness with astute observations on motherhood develops into a page-turning psychological thriller that turns the protagonist’s carefully curated life inside-out, as the past she’s worked so diligently to cover-over comes roaring back in with a letter from her mother.
🎥 ‘We Live in Time,’ A love story, told outside the confines of time, Almut’s (Florence Pugh) and Tobias’s (Andrew Garfield) love story unfolds across three different timelines—though we know, early on, where it’s headed, when she is diagnosed with ovarian cancer. Though ripe with overly cheesy lines, the movie is a comforting weeper that speaks to the importance of enjoying life as-is.
I maintained a journaling routine all throughout highschool and even college. Up with the sun, notebook in hand.
I had originally gone to school in hopes of becoming a kindergarten teacher. I was thrilled with the direction and plans ahead. Until my student teaching started and I feared I had made a huge mistake. I immediatly stopped pursuing my dream of becoming a kindergarten teacher and began to feel lost and unsure of the future.
Naturally, I panicked. Each time I was unable to answer “What’s next for you?” was assigned as evidence I had become what I’d feared: a complete and total fuckup. But the show must go on, and rent was meant to be paid, so I masked as happy, and tears fell daily.
One day, on one of my cry-walks, let go echoed in my head. My intuition was calling; I didn’t dare to answer. It seemed impossible—reckless!
Letting go meant dissolving into a shapeless nothing. My whole life melting into a puddle like an unset Jell-O mold.
This week, I sat down to read these journals and old essays. What struck me was how I spent months in negotiation with my terror, unable to accept fear as the price to pay for pursuing change. I couldn’t bring myself to let it go. Someone had to pay, and that someone was me.
Sometimes, forgiveness is all it takes to remake a life beyond tolerable and into something to delight in.
Sometimes, what’s left is to purge, dissolve, and reset.
Below are some nuggets of wisdom that would have been helpful to hear when I was in that formless, messy state.
Here are five signs you are growing, even when you feel lost. Relax into the chaos, baby; better days await.
5 Surprisingly Honest Signs You’re Growing (Even If It Doesn’t Feel Like It)
You’re scared out of your mind.
I’ve found that real growth doesn’t come with a peaceful soundtrack and a perfect morning routine—it usually arrives when I’m white-knuckling my way through something new and terrifying. Carl Jung once said, “Where there is fear, there is your task,” and I think about that quote a lot. Not in a cute Pinterest way—in the “oh, this is the part where I want to run” kind of way.
Almost every time I’ve wanted to throw in the towel or crawl back to something more familiar, I was on the edge of a breakthrough. That fear? It’s not the enemy. It’s the doorway.
You feel completely stuck.
There have been entire seasons where the simplest things felt impossible. I’d make plans, promises, even to myself—then watch them gather dust. Procrastination used to feel like protection. It gave me the illusion of control, but it was just a holding pattern.
Admitting I was stuck helped. But what actually shifted things? Choosing to stop punishing myself for it. Being gentle with myself in those moments gave me the room to get curious instead of judgmental.
Growth isn’t always about action. Sometimes, it’s about noticing the story you’re telling yourself about being stuck—and rewriting it.
You stop chasing the quick fix.
At one point, I had an entire library of self-help books, a running list of five-year plans, and a never-ending stream of strategies for how to become “better.” But the more I searched for the magic answer outside of myself, the more disconnected I felt from what was already within me.
Letting go of the ten-step programs and blueprint timelines didn’t mean I gave up—it meant I finally started trusting myself.
If you’re getting tired of being told how to fix yourself… maybe you’re not broken.
You let yourself feel the hard stuff.
For years, I tried to outthink my feelings. I’d talk myself out of sadness, explain away anger, or distract from shame. But what I’ve learned—usually the hard way—is that emotions don’t go away just because we ignore them. They hang out in the background, shapeshifting into tension, anxiety, or snappy responses at people we love.
The real work? Feeling it. Naming it. Sitting with it long enough to hear what it’s trying to say. It’s not always fun, but it’s honest—and it’s where healing lives.
You’re okay not being fully understood.
This one was hard for me. I spent a long time bending myself into more palatable versions, explaining my choices, over-explaining my boundaries, hoping for nods of approval that rarely came.
But now? I can sit with the fact that not everyone will get me. And I don’t need them to. I know what feels right in my body. I know when something’s off. I don’t have to carry other people’s discomfort just because they don’t see the full picture.
Misunderstanding isn’t always rejection—it’s just part of being a full, complex human.
When You Start Listening Inward
This is what growth looks like in real time: messy, uncertain, often inconvenient—but so, so alive. You don’t need a sign from the universe to prove you’re evolving. If you’re noticing any of this? You’re already in it.
And if you’re in the beginning stages—where it feels like all you’ve got is discomfort and questions—that’s okay, too. That’s where a lot of us start.
The invitation isn’t to be perfect. It’s to be present. And to trust that your inner voice—the one that keeps whispering this matters—knows the way.