This is the second in my ongoing series of reflections on the idea of a “soft life” and what it could mean to create a life with more sustainability, honesty, and room to breathe.

I’ve been thinking about something I wrote in my first reflection on living a softer life. In it, I said I was learning the difference between growth and self-improvement.

There is something about the whole idea of self-improvement that has always left me feeling hollow. Maybe it’s the suggestion that who I am today is somehow not enough. That there is a better, more disciplined, more productive, more evolved Kristabeth waiting somewhere in the future… if only I work hard enough to become her.

There were times during my years in ministry when I remember ~ actually ~ wishing I could be a robot. I wanted to move seamlessly from one thing to the next without needing time to process what had happened. I didn’t want to have emotions or needs that interrupted the day’s agenda. I wanted to get the sermon written, show up for the meeting, care for the person in front of me, and move on to whatever came next.

I think what I was really wishing was that being human could be a little less inconvenient.

I loved many parts of ministry, but over time I found myself bending more and more to fit the life I was living. When I eventually left, it was partly because I couldn’t bend myself to fit anymore.

Instead of asking myself How do I become better at living this life? I began wondering, What kind of life actually fits me?

In the years since I left full-time church ministry, I’ve discovered some interesting things about myself.

I’ve learned that I need more solitude than some people do. I need time to process emotional experiences and interactions. I like slower mornings and spaciousness in my days. I need time when no one needs anything from me. I need time and space for creativity.

For a long time, I thought I needed to become better at handling a life with more demands and interaction…..but maybe what I really needed was permission to create a life that honored the way I move through the world.

But honoring who I am doesn’t mean figuring out what I need once and for all and then building my life around that forever. I’m still changing… and what nourishes me changes, too. The practice, I’m discovering, is to keep paying attention.

Recently, I noticed that I might actually need a little more connection than my average days provide. So I joined a contemplative singing group.

Go figure.

Apparently, I’m still figuring it out, and that’s okay. In fact, I think I will always be still figuring it out.

Maybe that’s one of the reasons I love gardening. Plants are remarkably unapologetic about their needs. A tomato plant doesn’t apologize for needing hours of sun. The echinacea doesn’t worry that it’s too tall. When a plant starts wilting, I don’t assign it a self-improvement plan. I wonder if it needs water, more sun, better soil, or more room.

A plant doesn’t need to become a better plant. It needs the conditions in which it can flourish. I wonder what it would be like to offer ourselves that same kind of attention.

For a lot of my life, I did the opposite. When I was tired, overwhelmed, bored, restless, or unhappy, my first instinct was to look inward for the flaw. (Sometimes I still do this.) Why can’t I handle this? Why do I need so much time to process? Why can’t I just push through?

What if growth doesn’t begin with believing something is wrong with us? What if it begins with believing we are already worthy of tending? What if, instead of criticism, we got curious? That doesn’t mean we are never challenged. Sometimes getting curious reveals that we’ve outgrown something, that we’re playing it safe, or that we’re ready to stretch in a new direction.

There is a difference between changing because we believe we aren’t enough and changing because we can feel ourselves becoming cramped by a life we’ve outgrown. These days, growth feels less like striving toward some improved version of myself and more like coming home. This reminds me of when I got my hair cut short about a year ago. I looked in the mirror and thought, “There she is.” It wasn’t that I had become someone new. I simply looked more like myself.

These days, I want to look at myself with the tenderness I offer to my plants. To notice what is thriving and what isn’t without immediately turning either into a judgment. I want to keep paying attention to where I’m flourishing, where I’m feeling cramped, how life is asking me to grow, and what I need now.

Maybe we don’t need to become better versions of ourselves. Maybe we can trust that we are already worthy of our own attention and care… and get curious about what might grow from there. 🌱

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A few questions to hold:

• Where in your life are you flourishing?
• Where are you feeling cramped by something you may have outgrown?
• How is life asking you to grow?
• What do you need now?

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If this reflection resonates with you, I’d love to hear from you. Much of my work through spiritual direction, grief companionship, and small groups centers around creating space to listen more honestly to our lives and the wisdom within them. You are always welcome to reach out. I would love to connect.

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Kristabeth Atwood is a spiritual director, writer, and celebrant who creates spaces for reflection, connection, and meaning in life’s transitions. You can reach out to learn more or schedule a discernment session with Kristabeth.