For a long time, I thought feeling stretched meant something was wrong. Discomfort felt like a signal to pull back, to get smaller, to protect myself.
And sometimes, that’s exactly what I did. I now see that what I called self-protection was often shrinking back from growth. I was responding to fear.
Recently, my understanding of being stretched has shifted.
I’ve noticed that stretching often shows up right before something meaningful takes shape. When I allow myself to stay present in the stretch—rather than bracing against it—I often find clarity, movement, and even relief on the other side.
There’s a physical metaphor that keeps coming to mind. When a muscle is stretched, it can feel uncomfortable at first. But stretching increases circulation. It releases what’s been held too tightly for too long. Sometimes that includes things we didn’t realize were bound up there—tension, residue, even toxins.
The same seems to be true emotionally and spiritually.
Allowing myself to be stretched has released things I was ready to let go of. Some were familiar and comforting. Others were heavier, less pleasant, and long overdue to surface. None of it was wasted.
What’s different now is that I recognize the feeling sooner. When I notice that familiar resistance—the urge to contract, to delay, to make myself smaller—I can pause and say, Oh. I’m being stretched. Instead of panic, there’s curiosity.
Instead of assuming something is wrong, I gently wonder if something good is forming.
If we are not being stretched, we are probably not growing. And honestly, not growing has its own discomfort. Growth does not always arrive wrapped in certainty or ease. Not growing almost always comes with regret.
These days, when I feel stretched, I’m learning not to rush past it or shut it down. I listen. I breathe. I remind myself that stretching is not the same as breaking.
Today’s stretch helps me reach tomorrow’s next step.
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