The holidays have a way of asking questions we don’t always know how to answer.
They arrive wrapped in expectation (joy, gratitude, togetherness), yet for many of us, they also surface quieter emotions: reflection, tenderness, uncertainty, and longing. In the stillness between gatherings, or in the pauses after the lights are turned off, we often meet parts of ourselves we’ve been too busy to listen to all year.
If this season feels heavier than festive, I want to say this gently and clearly:
You’re not broken. You’re becoming.
For much of my life, I believed that struggle meant failure. That moments of overwhelm, anxiety, or disorientation were signs that something had gone wrong; something to fix, suppress, or hide. I thought strength meant composure. Progress meant certainty. Healing meant arriving somewhere stable and staying there. But growth doesn’t work that way.
Becoming is not a straight line. It’s not tidy. And it doesn’t follow the calendar we wish it would. Becoming often feels like unlearning before learning, shedding before building, and standing still long enough to hear what’s been trying to get our attention all along.
The holidays amplify this truth.
We’re encouraged to look back on the year and measure it in the facets of what we accomplished, what we lost, what we should be grateful for. Rarely do we pause to honor how we survived. How many internal battles we fought quietly. How many versions of ourselves we outgrew without ceremony or applause.
Sometimes becoming looks like rest, not resolution. Sometimes it looks like asking better questions instead of forcing answers. Sometimes it looks like choosing compassion over criticism—especially toward ourselves.
I’ve learned that breakdowns are not always endings. Often, they’re invitations. Invitations to slow down. To pay attention. To realign with what actually matters instead of what we thought we were supposed to want.
There is a cultural myth that healing is dramatic and instantaneous—that one breakthrough moment will suddenly make everything clear. In reality, healing is more like a conversation you return to over time. A relationship you build with your inner world. A practice of listening rather than judging. This is where becoming begins.
Becoming asks us to stop labeling ourselves as “too much,” “too sensitive,” or “not enough.” It invites us to see our depth not as a flaw, but as a signal—one that points toward meaning, creativity, intuition, and connection. It also asks us to release the idea that we must arrive somewhere else to be worthy of peace.
If this year stripped something away from you (certainty, confidence, identity), know that it may have been clearing space. Not because you were wrong before, but because you’re ready for something more aligned now. Becoming is subtle. It often happens beneath the surface, long before it’s visible to anyone else. Like roots growing in winter soil, unseen but essential.
This season, instead of asking yourself what you failed to do, try asking:
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What did I learn about myself this year?
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What no longer fits who I’m becoming?
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Where am I being asked to soften instead of push?
You don’t need to have everything figured out to move forward. You don’t need a perfect plan or polished answers. You only need honesty and the courage to stay present with your own unfolding.
As the year closes, my wish is not that you rush toward transformation, but that you allow it. That you trust the process even when it feels unfinished. That you recognize becoming is not a weakness. Rejoice, it’s a sign of life moving through you.
Lesley Yvonne Hunter is a writer, creative, and advocate for integrated mental and spiritual well-being. Her work explores the space where resilience, intuition, and self-understanding meet, offering a grounded, compassionate perspective on personal transformation. Her debut book, Madness to Manifestation: From Breakdown to Breakthrough, will be released in February 2026 and invites readers to reframe struggle as a catalyst for becoming.
You’re Not Broken—You’re Becoming: A Holiday Reflection