reflections in “the gray”: alchemy, grace, and growth - 8.28
no mud, no lotus - thich naht hanh
can I be vulnerable?
it’s been some time since I’ve written for ReverentSol, though the intention has always been present. when I launched this platform in January 2025, I held so many plans, goals, and dreams for it. some have blossomed, and many have yet to take shape, because quite simply — life unfolded in ways I did not expect. this year, more than any other, has been both the most challenging and the most transformative of my life. when I think back to the woman I was in the early months of 2025, I hardly recognize her. yet I can say with full honesty that I am proud of the woman I stand as today and the space I’m in — mentally, emotionally, physically, and spiritually.
I’m an advocate for journaling and frequently jot down my feelings in the Notes app of my phone. lately, I’ve felt an intense inclination to combine these recent notes into one space. sharing my writing was one of the original reasons I created ReverentSol — a space to release, reflect, and share openly. astrology has always intrigued me, and my “big 3” of pisces sun, scorpio moon, and gemini rising speak to my natural emotional intensity and depth. a theme that continues to appear for me in this season of life is creative release, particularly through writing. even in my most recent therapy session, my therapist reminded me to return to the page. her encouragement felt like confirmation that these words needed to come out — not just for me, but for whoever may need them.
shifts and seasons
as august closes, I find myself reflecting on the themes that have shaped me this year: clarity, discernment, discipline, and grace. for most of my life, I was the planner. I set clear goals and work relentlessly to meet or surpass them, but very much so in my own time. by 22, I graduated from a reputable university and moved to atlanta, georgia. by 24, I had fallen in love, bought a house, married, and welcomed my first child. by 26, I gave birth to my second child. those years often felt like a blur of one milestone quickly chasing another, but they were also some of the most blissful moments of my life. and yet, just when I began to exhale and bask in the blessings that God had given me, life shifted. I entered a season that demanded transformation.
after the birth of my daughter in 2022, my perspective of life deepened. motherhood had already changed me after my son. the weight of responsibility and the seriousness of caring for another life was undeniable and I felt its intensity immediately after pushing him out and he was placed on my chest. but after my daughter, I felt a different calling: to heal my inner child, and to honor myself amidst all the roles I carried — wife, mother, friend, daughter, employee, etc. that summer, I began therapy consistently. at first, I sought tools to “balance it all”, but what I found was deep transformation. therapy forced me to turn inward and examine the layers of who I am and how life had shaped me. I was navigating strained relationships while celebrating the joy of new life, thus experiencing loss alongside gain. It was a season of contradictions — of joy and grief, of clarity and confusion. and though I’ve never thrived in the gray areas of life, I found myself there often.
boundaries, grace, and the gift of “no”
the greatest lesson therapy offered me in those early years was the power of boundaries. I learned that “no” is a complete sentence. for so much of my life, I somewhat sought perfection and had been a people-pleaser, striving to keep others happy even at the expense of myself. my mom has always reminded me that we each have a responsibility to fill our own cup and what we give to others should flow from our overflow. peace and joy cannot be outsourced as they are our responsibility. through therapy, I began to embody that truth and began to extend grace, not just to others, but to myself. I learned not to internalize the projections of others, and to understand/release the triggers that once held me captive. I began to understand that healing required protecting my peace, even if others did not understand it. ironically, those who benefited from my lack of boundaries were the ones most offended when I set them. that journey was not easy and often lonely, but it was also freeing. I now jokingly claim the title of a “recovered people-pleaser” and that reclamation has brought me closer to peace than ever before — a release I never knew I needed.
as I prepared for 2024, I felt an undeniable message from God: be still. for someone like me who thrives on setting and achieving goals, stillness felt somewhat unnatural. this is why I love the practice of mindfulness and meditation because it forces me to intentionally do so. as the year unfolded, I understood why God had pressed this message on my heart. 2024 became a year of tests and turbulence. I fought for my faith, my family, and myself. and still, God’s guidance remained as I realized that clarity comes in surrender by releasing control and trusting that God has already worked it out. I leaned into one of the truths that was often reminded to me while growing up: “while you’re trying to figure it out, God has already worked it out.” that stillness prepared me for 2025 — a year that has demanded discipline and intention.
discipline in the midst of transformation
when this year began, I was determined to focus on what mattered most. I had been accepted into graduate school. my children were healthy and thriving. I had spent 2024 pouring into my health/wellness/fitness and felt more confident than ever in my postpartum body. I was a year into a job aligned with my career goals. I was surrounded by a village of family and friends who loved and supported me. it seemed like the foundation was there, but life, as it often does, brought storms I never expected. this year has tested me more than any other. at times, I have felt overwhelmed, uncertain, and stretched beyond capacity; and yet, I have also felt God’s grace in ways that leave me speechless. despite everything, I am thriving in graduate school, excelling at work, and showing up fully for my children. when people ask me how I’m managing it all, my instinct is to laugh and say, “I don’t know”, but the truth is — I do know. God’s grace has carried me.
one of my favorite Buddhist philosophers, thich nhat hanh’s words, “no mud, no lotus,” have stayed with me. the most beautiful flowers grow from the messiest mud and in many ways, that’s how life feels for me right now. what feels messy, gray, and uncertain has also been the soil where wisdom and growth have taken root. it has taken time, but I am learning to no longer run from the gray areas. I am learning to sit in them, ask God what He is trying to teach me, and trust that even when I cannot see it clearly, beauty is still growing.
20 things I’m thankful for
in this space, I pause to affirm 20 things I am thankful for in this season:
I am thankful for my resiliency and strength.
I am thankful for my two beautiful children, who love me, and I love, unconditionally — they teach me more about life than they understand.
I am thankful that I can give and receive love.
I am thankful for my growing discernment.
I am thankful for not embodying the negative things projected onto me.
I am thankful for extending grace to myself and others.
I am thankful for forgiveness — of myself and others.
I am thankful that things don’t always go my way, because misdirection and rejection are often God’s greatest protection.
I am thankful for standing firm on my boundaries and in my truth.
I am thankful for the lessons I’ve learned along the way, even through my mistakes.
I am thankful for the power of releasing what isn’t for me, trusting that God has something greater in store.
I am thankful that at only 29 years old, I have lived such a beautiful life, with more life and blessings to come.
I am thankful that I am healing my inner child and ending cycles my children will not have to endure.
I am thankful for laughter and joy — and for the courage to feel all emotions fully and deeply.
I am thankful that love and hope remain in my heart, despite betrayal.
I am thankful for a sound and healthy mind.
I am thankful for my village — family and true friendships that keep me going.
I am thankful for the desire to keep growing, learning, and improving.
I am thankful for stillness, which brings peace and clarity.
I am thankful for the simple, unfiltered joys of life.
storms and stillness
in this season of uncertainty, or as I typically describe, this “gray area”, I often return to the story of Peter in the Book of Matthew. caught in the middle of a storm on the Sea of Galilee, Peter was overcome with fear. in the darkness, he saw Jesus walking on water and asked if he, too, could do the same. with courage, Peter stepped out, but as soon as he became distracted by the storm’s winds and waves, fear began to pull him under. in desperation, he cried out for help, and Jesus immediately reached out His hand to save him.
this story continues to teach me two lessons. first, when life feels chaotic and overwhelming, it can be tempting to retreat to old patterns or familiar ways of coping. yet, as I’ve mentioned, growth and transformation happen in discomfort. like Peter, the moment we choose trust by placing faith in God and releasing control, we find that what once felt impossible becomes lighter, even in the middle of the storm. second, we cannot allow a storm’s characteristics, such as lightning, high winds, and turbulent waves, to distract us from walking in our purpose. Peter was on a mission led by God, and so are we. to walk in purpose requires persistence. you have to keep going no matter how fierce the storm may feel, because with God, you will get to the other side and be better because of it.
life, after all, is full of uncertainty. we all endure seasons of trial and transformation, but perspective is everything. in this moment, I find myself lost yet found, uncertain yet hopeful, grieving yet joyful. I hold all of these truths at once. a few months ago, I listened to a podcast featuring Tasha Smith (actress), and her words have stayed with me. she spoke along the lines of — when going through tough times, you have to bounce back. you can’t stay in the ditch too long, or you’ll get buried. it was a reminder that even when we feel low, we cannot stay there forever. it reminds me of what my mom has often told me: what happens to us in life is not always our fault, especially in childhood. but healing is our responsibility.
so here’s my message to you (and a reminder to myself):
don’t get buried, my friend. allow yourself to feel allll the feels. cry, release, sit with your emotions and choose to transform them. alchemize your pain into love. no matter how heavy the storm, God’s grace has shown me time and time again: it always gets better. I am a testament to this. until next time…
slowly & reverently,
Mar B.
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