Healing doesn’t always look like progress. Sometimes it looks like breaking apart, like falling to pieces with no clear way of putting them back together. The Root Stage of healing is where everything feels dark, messy, and unrecognizable—but it’s also where unseen transformation begins.

For me, the Root Stage wasn’t just a metaphor. It was my life.

A few years ago, I hit my lowest point. I was in grad school, working toward my dream of becoming a therapist, but everything in my life felt like it was crumbling. I was battling chronic pain that left me feeling like I was barely surviving. My mental health spiraled—I dropped to 72 pounds, felt completely alone, and even had moments when I wasn’t sure if I wanted to keep living. On top of that, I was drowning financially, earning less than $3,000 a month while living in San Diego, where rent alone could easily wipe out my entire income.

I was stuck in a cycle of hopelessness: How could I care for myself? How could I build a future when everything felt so impossible? The relationship I had leaned on for 12 years ended, leaving me alone with no one to lean on.

Looking back, I didn’t know it at the time, but I was in my Root Stage. I was planting seeds in the soil of my life—taking on debt for grad school, studying late nights for exams, and showing up for work at a mental health agency that barely paid the bills. It felt like nothing was working.

But roots grow in the dark. They grow when no one is watching. And sometimes, life has to force you to break apart to make room for what’s next.

Then, something strange happened. During what I now call my “broken era,” small but powerful shifts began to take place in my life. The clinical therapy program at my agency shut down, which felt like a blow at first. But then my supervisor invited me to join her group practice. That single invitation changed everything—it was a space where I finally began to flourish.

The national licensure exam, which I had been preparing for and was only offered twice a year, suddenly became available four months earlier than expected. I took a leap, passed on my first attempt, and realized I was capable of more than I gave myself credit for. Just a month later, I stepped into my own private practice—a dream I never thought I’d reach in that moment of struggle.

It was as if the universe was saying, “Now that you’ve broken, let me show you how to rebuild.”

This is what I learned: Healing doesn’t always feel good. In fact, it often feels like destruction. But in those moments when everything seems to fall apart, the seeds of your transformation are being planted. Letting go makes space for what’s next. Ending a 12-year relationship felt like the ground beneath me had given way, but it gave me the freedom to find myself again. Pain often brings unexpected invitations. What felt like setbacks—losing my program, facing financial uncertainty—turned out to be the very doors that led to my growth. Growth demands breaking open. Seeds don’t bloom by staying intact. They crack, rupture, and split apart before they ever see the light.

If you’re in your own Root Stage right now—if life feels heavy, messy, and impossible—I want you to know this: It’s okay to feel broken. It’s okay to not know what comes next.

Because even in the dark, your roots are growing. The work you’re doing now, the tears you’re crying, the battles you’re fighting—it’s all preparing you for the light.

Healing happens in ways we don’t always understand. But trust this: You are planting the seeds of your future, even if you can’t see them yet.

I pray that in your darkest moments, you remember that breaking isn’t the end—it’s the beginning. I pray that you trust the unseen growth happening beneath the surface of your life. And I pray that you find hope, even in the mess, because the bloom is coming.

What seeds are you planting in your own Root Stage? Let’s reflect together—share your thoughts in the comments or send me a message.