Becoming
“You are becoming,” said my therapist.
And it made me heart beat a little faster because I realised how profound the moment is. Nearly 47 years in the making…..
For me, becoming rarely feels dramatic while it happens.
There is rarely a clear moment when we suddenly become someone new.
More often, it happens quietly.
In small shifts we almost miss —
a boundary we finally hold,
a truth we allow ourselves to say out loud,
a place we return to again and again because it helps us breathe,
a realisation that allows us to be more intentional about the moments we live.
Sometimes becoming begins after fear.
Sometimes it begins when we find refuge.
And sometimes it begins when we realise that the person we were trying to be no longer fits who we are.
Impermanence asks something difficult of us:
to allow versions of ourselves to soften, change, or fall away — so something new can emerge.
Not because those earlier versions were wrong.
But because we are not fixed.
We are always in motion.
Looking back, I often realise that change had already been happening long before I noticed it.
Perhaps becoming is not about turning into someone new.
Perhaps it is about slowly allowing ourselves to become more fully who we already are — in this moment of our impermanent life.
As the ancient Greek poet Pindar wrote:
“Become who you are, having learned what that is.”
For me, this meant falling apart many times.
Looking inside. Reflecting.
Erring and rejoicing.
Crying and laughing.
Despairing, rebuilding, losing and winning.
I needed to learn who I am — not who I was supposed to be.
And even now, while I am becoming, I know this is still an unfinished story.
A story I am learning to write with a little more courage and intention.
A story that will keep unfolding until my last breath and my last heartbeat.
And just like me, you too are becoming.
We are all, quietly and imperfectly, becoming.
And sometimes, in the middle of that becoming, it helps not to do it alone.
Much love,
R
