We’ve been taught to run.

Taught that pain is something to fix.

That discomfort means something’s gone wrong.

That a heavy feeling in the chest or a longing in the heart must be pushed away, stuffed down, or labeled as “bad.”

But what if that’s never what it was?

What if that ache is awareness?

A sacred nudge toward what wants to grow?

What if the longing is not lack, but a compass pointing toward change?

What if pain isn’t a punishment, but a messenger—

not to escape, but to engage?

We often assume pain is the opposite of progress.

But the truth?

The most profound art,

the most enduring love,

the richest wisdom,

and the most awe-inspiring growth

has always begun in the soil of the not-so-glorious.

It is not from our perfectly curated moments that truth emerges.

It is from the cracks, the tremors, the missteps, and the quiet spaces where the world doesn’t quite make sense.

That’s where clarity lives.

That’s where strength is forged.

Not in the absence of hurt,

but in walking through it with a willingness to see what it’s really offering.

Pain and growth are dance partners.

They collide regularly—and on purpose.

We waste so much energy trying to disappear the discomfort,

instead of listening to it.

Instead of witnessing its tears.

Instead of offering it presence.

We try to escape it.

Numb it.

Shame it away.

But what if you can’t escape because you’re not supposed to?

What if it’s not a mountain, just a hill—and turning back now means you’ll never know what the view looks like from the other side?

When we panic, when we waiver, when we doubt our capacity to feel,

we shrink back into survival.

Into the belief that we won’t make it if we truly let ourselves feel what’s here.

But observe.

Just observe.

That’s where transformation begins.

That’s where the words are born,

the lessons etched into time,

the wisdom passed through generations.

Let’s not be so quick to fix what hurts.

Let’s not retreat so quickly that we miss the beauty within the breaking.

Because in skipping over our destination points—just because we were told they were wrong—we miss the waypoints of our becoming.

~Kerri Elizabeth~

Instead, ask:

Does this pain grow me or hold me in place?

Is this discomfort guiding me closer to myself or pulling me away from what’s true?

When you stop escaping and start observing,

you may find that what you feared was destroying you

is actually delivering you

into more of who you are.