I'm Learning

Growth doesn’t ask for certificates.

It asks for surrender.

It begins

in the trembling hands

that whisper I can’t—

and still move.

It begins

in the nights when everything hurts,

and you cry quietly,

because the world is asleep

and you are still becoming.

Every “I can’t”

was a prayer I didn’t know I was saying.

Every failure,

a teacher in disguise.

I learned through loss—

through dreams that cracked open

to make space for truer ones,

through endings that taught me

how to begin again.

How to write

when no one promised to read.

How to hold space for others

while patching my own cracks.

Growth is not graceful.

It bleeds.

It stumbles.

It grieves what the old self loses.

But it keeps going—

step by bruised step—

until one morning,

you wake up lighter,

and realize:

You are no longer begging for permission.

You are no longer waiting to be ready.

You are learning.

Still scared.

Still soft.

But moving.

And this—

this ache between what was

and what’s yet to come—

is where courage lives.

Because every I can’t

is only the first breath

of I’m learning.

“Growth doesn’t wait for readiness—it grows through you as you dare.” 

I am Gina Muresan