to unknowingly arrive
The importance of taking a moment to honour where you came from.
I rarely look over my shoulder and take in the distance I’ve travelled to get to where I am. Metaphorically speaking. I’m always so focused on the horizon, chasing the next step, the next goal, the next dream. Don’t get me wrong, I have tender moments of reflection and gratitude, but I don’t steep in them long enough. They feel shortlived and fleeting, usually the result of a tantalizing journal prompt that nudges me to take a quick look. So I glance backwards for a moment or two, then shift my eyes forward to the future as the question of what next stares directly into my gaze.
But this weekend I had what I’ll call, a real moment of reflection.
Saturday evening, my partner and I were eating homemade ramen on our living room floor. My endless creative pursuits have taken over our dining room table, which currently involves a paint-by-numbers (that’s taken me 12 months to get halfway through) and countless half-finished journals. This means we are forced to consume our meals cross-legged on a 2-foot-tall coffee table. Anyway, as we were slurping on our noodles, in too close proximity, I was struck by this real moment of reflection, which involved me realizing that what was happening… right then and there… was what I had dreamt about for years.
It was looking squarely at my noodle-filled face.
The kindest, most gentle man sitting right beside me with a bowl tipped to his nose and broth dribbling down his chin. A man who has trusted me with his heart and taught me what it means to be loved unconditionally, regardless of my wild and untamed nature.
The 100-year-old apartment in a city by the sea that we moved into last July. With its original French doors, glittery crystal knobs, checkered kitchen floor, and golden-hour sunlight. An apartment that feels like a warm hug each time I enter through its doors.
The gift of eating delicious, nourishing food without it completely derailing me into a cycle of guilt and bingeing. The release of a decade-long eating disorder that consumed every facet of my life.
How hadn’t I noticed? Or had I?
As I said, I have taken some time to acknowledge and appreciate the manifestations that have actualized into my reality. But inside this real moment of reflection, it felt different. It was as if I was delicately holding my growth in the palm of my hand to truly savour it. It brought me back to a time when these things felt impossibly far away as if this reality would never be mine to hold.
Except here it was, sitting before me.
This has brought up so much within me. Days later, I’m still filled with so many memories and thoughts of my past self. All the pain and suffering she lived with for so long. The years of fighting to liberate herself from endless cycles of self-destruction and limitation. Stuck in loops with no way to let the light in. But holding on so tightly to the dream of escaping it all and finding her way to the surface.
I so badly wish I could go back in time and tell her, “It’s all going to work out, you’re going to be free.” I wish I could help her understand that she’ll find her way on a path that guides her back home. I wish I could hold her in my arms and thank her for carrying me here, to this version of reality where I have found peace and happiness. I wish she could see and experience it for herself. I wish for all these things and so much more. But all I can do right now is honour the work we put in to arrive here. Because in so many ways that’s what this real moment of reflection has shown me.
I have arrived.
As we so often do when we courageously embark on a journey towards healing. If we persevere and make it through all the pain, at a certain point we will get to where we always wanted to be. A long-held dream achieved. Freedom savoured. But what happens after you’ve ascended the mountain and proudly planted your flag into the ground? For me, my focus immediately fixated on… where to next. Maybe you’ve felt this too—this drive to move on, to keep pushing forward. It’s a natural inclination, but it’s also a trap. Because in that rush to get to the next place, we often bypass the critical part of the journey: the part where we pause to truly reflect on how far we’ve come. We miss the chance to marinate in the growth we’ve experienced.
Let it soak into our bones and fill our souls with a deep sense of gratitude.
I certainly haven’t taken the time to truly appreciate where I started and where I ended up. And I suppose that’s what this real moment of reflection is having me do. Even if it’s a few years late. It has rooted me into place so I can take a long and loving look at how I completely transformed my life. It has filled me with so much gratitude and appreciation. It has reminded me that there was a time when my current reality felt unreachable. Seemingly impossible. It has reminded me that I arrived somewhere I thought I never would. I transmuted my pain into something magical.
And it’s about time I let that truly soak in.
The extraordinary thing about this silly little journey we’re all on is that we will continue to arrive, over and over again. We’ll arrive at new destinations we thought only lived in distant futures far from our reach. This idea of endlessly arriving makes me think about my future self. Maybe she’s living in a future just a few months from now, or maybe several years. She’s a version of me who has all the things I want right now. It makes me excited. It invites me to be present to the journey because one day I’ll look up and realize I’m exactly where I wanted to be not so long ago. And in that real moment of reflection, I’ll probably wish I could reach back in time and say to my past self, “Thank you so much for choosing to continue to journey down the path, no matter how relentless it was. You’re building the life I now get to live.”
And now I have the awareness to bask in this beautiful moment of growth. To grab it by the collar and give it a big sloppy kiss. To savour it instead of tilting my head up to look for the next horizon.
Because here’s the thing: there will always be another horizon. Another goal. Another dream calling out to us. And yes, it’s beautiful to keep dreaming and to keep moving forward. But what’s equally, if not more, important is to pause. To turn around and truly take in the view. To let the magnitude of our growth settle into our bodies. To honour the effort, the heartbreak, and the resilience it took to get here.
These moments of reflection aren’t just a luxury, they’re a necessity. They anchor us to our truth and remind us of who we are becoming. They ground us in gratitude and allow us to approach the next chapter of our lives not with frantic striving, but with a deep sense of calm and trust.
So as I sit here, still thinking about that Saturday evening and that bowl of ramen, I feel a quiet shift within me.
A new awareness.
I realize that this is part of the journey too—this pausing, this reflecting, this being.
The horizons will always be there. But for now, I’m content to sit in this moment and fully appreciate the miracle of how far I’ve come.
And I hope you can, too.
Until next time,
Angelica x
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This is such a good reminder to slow down and be present with how far we’ve come. Like you—I almost always find myself looking ahead the moment I cross a new threshold. But also like you—the life I’m living now was beyond my biggest dreams just a few years ago. I’m living in an answered prayer. 🤍 love you sweet friend, this was just what I needed to read this morning.