Stretched, Not Broken
🌱 looking forward to a year of growth and discovery
There’s this ZZ plant we’ve had since my husband and I got married. It used to live by the balcony, catching just enough sunlight during the day.
I’ve never been particularly good at keeping plants alive, but I’ve always remembered to occasionally water it. I even repotted it to a bigger pot a few years ago just because it’s grown quite a bit since it was given to us. But in the years since becoming a mom, the plant slowly slipped into neglect. I would still water it from time to time, but whenever I would take trips abroad, I often forgot to ask someone to come by and water it every other week.
This year, our curious baby started getting really handsy with it and would pull out a few stems or leaves here and there. We feared he might get himself hurt or sick so we ended up relocating it to the guest bathroom just so it was out of reach for the baby. By then, it looked like it was already rotting. Wilted. Done. I had quietly given up on it and even considered throwing it away.
But our nanny suggested we keep it anyway. “It won’t hurt,” she said.
Today, while using the guest bathroom, I noticed something I wasn’t expecting.
A brand-new shoot.
There it was—emerging from the soil, right in the middle of what looked like death and decay. Life, insisting on itself.
And it stopped me in my tracks.
Because that’s what this past year has felt like.
2025 threw me more curveballs than I was prepared for. Postpartum depression left me feeling helpless, isolated, and unsure of myself. When I returned from maternity leave, I struggled to find a project. Most leads went nowhere. Roles were delayed or canceled. Proposals stalled.
As the no’s piled up, so did my anxiety and imposter syndrome—feeding each other until I found myself stuck in a familiar spiral of doubt and self-criticism.
(I did seek help, if you’re wondering. My therapist has been a godsend.)
Eventually, I landed a role—but even that came with its own challenges. Expectations weren’t clearly set. Timelines were tight. Scope was blurry. Progress was constantly blocked by delays and pushback on things we needed just to do the work well.
By the time we were nearing the finish line, already exhausted and burned out, I was notified that I was being laid off.
Ouch.
First came fear— As if we weren’t already struggling financially.
Then came relief— I could finally step away from a project that had been slowly draining me.
Then came the hurt— I had worked myself to the bone for years and this is where I still ended up.
Since then, I’ve been living in a cycle of hope and despair.
2025 for me was extremely hard and challenging and I was stretched in ways that made me simply not want to exist anymore. And yet, just like that brand new shoot emerging from the soil, there was still that small part of me clinging onto Hope.
Morgan Harper Nichols shared a reel on Instagram the other day where you had to take a screenshot and whatever word you land on would be your Word of the Year. I was a bit extra and took a few more than I probably should have but I thought of sharing a couple of the words here.
Emergence
It is not too late to weave together something new. It is not too late for new patterns to emerge. The tapestry of life has many varied threads, and unexpected beauty and new stories are still possible here. It may take longer than anticipated to see how it all connects, but perhaps for all the loose ends and frayed edges, there is still room for mending, reimagining, creating.
Growth
Now is the time to grow, remembering that growth isn’t about constant relentless improvement but about deepening roots, finding new pathways through the soil, and gathering wisdom in the quiet spaces between.
I don’t know what the past year has been like for you. But if you find yourself in a desolate season too, I pray that your roots grow deep enough to find even the smallest pockets of moisture—to stretch, to hold, to survive.
And when you emerge, I pray that you learn to tend to yourself. That you place yourself in gentler light. That you enrich your environment with care and compassion—so you’re not just surviving, but slowly, intentionally, thriving.
May you have a wonderful, rich, and intentional 2026!
With Love,
Trisha
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