Lately, I’ve been bumping up against a familiar frustration: I thought I’d be farther along by now.
It isn’t that I’ve done nothing. I am learning about outreach, onboarding, systems, networking, and design. These new skills I hope will eventually fade into the background, becoming automatic and streamlined.
But right now, they are front and center. Certainly necessary; but, they’re quiet, behind-the-scenes tasks. It can feel isolating doing so much that no one sees.
Sometimes I find myself wondering: Is this still progress if it doesn’t feel like it?
It feels like the more I learn, the further I am from the joy of engaging in coaching conversations. The real-time shifts. The quiet “aha” moments with clients. The heart of the work.
And the heaviness of that realization followed me into my yard recently.
Lessons From a Not-Quite-Blooming Garden
Spring was arriving, but not neatly, not in sync, and definitely not according to my timeline. Some plants were already blooming, practically showing off. Others? Taking their sweet time.
Some of my seedlings hadn’t even made it outside yet. They were still sitting on the kitchen table, waiting for warmer nights.
And my tomatoes? I planted the seeds too late. Optimistically, I hoped they’ll fruit before the first frost. But realistically, they won’t. I’m choosing to adapt. They are now going into pots, not the garden bed.
And as I stared at those not-quite-ready plants, this landed hard: Isn’t this exactly what it’s like to pursue change in real life?
When Growth Doesn’t Look Like Progress
That moment in the garden reminded me that I am not the only one feeling the tension between where I hoped I’d be and where I actually am.
One of my clients is in her own season of frustration. She recently said, “I’m afraid it might be too late to make the changes I long for—but I can’t keep going like this.” She’s caught between urgency and discouragement, pulled in opposite directions by the pressure to act and the fear that she’s already missed her chance.
And yet, she is still reaching out for something better. She is willing to pivot. That matters.
If plants could speak, I think they’d understand this kind of tension. When they’re root-bound or placed in the wrong spot, they don’t give up—they just stop thriving. But when I shift the pot, change the light, or adjust what they’re being fed, growth returns. They don’t require perfect timing, just better conditions.
That’s why the idea of a “perfect window” for change is a myth—one that keeps too many of us stuck. What makes growth possible isn’t flawless planning. It’s noticing what’s not working… and being willing to try something new.
The Reframe: Tending is Progress
So here’s the reframe I’m trying on (and you’re welcome to borrow it): Maybe this season isn’t about speed. Maybe it’s about tending. About showing up. About trusting that growth is still happening, even when it’s quiet, slow, or incomplete.
Going slow doesn’t mean I am doing it wrong. And frustration, while very real, isn’t always a reliable measure of whether something’s working. Feeling stuck often means I’m in the middle of building something that hasn’t fully taken shape yet. The foundation’s still forming. The work is real, even if the results aren’t visible yet.
If You’re in the Gap…
If you’re staring across the space between now and not yet, I see you.
That space is uncomfortable; but it’s also fertile. It’s where roots grow. It’s where grit forms. And sometimes, it’s where the most unexpected blooms show up.
Use these prompts to ground your growth—especially when the finish line feels far away:
- What “shoulds” are making your progress feel like it’s not enough?
- Is there a plant (or part of nature) that reflects your current season?
- What might shift if you adjusted your timeline or environment, instead of your goal?
- What’s one thing you’ve learned in this “gap” season that you didn’t expect?
- Where have you already moved forward, even if the results aren’t fully visible yet?
Write your answers or just say them out loud. Bring them to your next coaching session or share them with someone who sees you clearly.
You Don’t Have to Navigate This Alone
The messy middle is real. It’s rarely comfortable. Coaching doesn’t fast-forward you through it, but it does offer something just as valuable: Perspective. Support. A space to breathe and recalibrate.
If you’re in a season of shifting, stuckness, or slow unfolding, let’s work together to notice what needs light, what needs space, and what might be ready for repotting.
Book a complimentary Discovery Session.
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