The Hard and the Beautiful: Finding Growth Through Challenge

This week has been one of opposites.

The kind that has you on an emotional rollercoaster ride.

On Monday, it was my late partner’s birthday.

He passed away several years ago, and for a long time, that date was one of my hardest.

Each year, I’d be in my feelings for weeks in the run-up to the day.

I'd wake up with a heaviness in my chest - anxiety, sadness, and disbelief that he wasn’t here. I’d brace for the day, trying to get through it quietly and with as much grace and composure as I could manage (spoiler: grief is neither graceful nor composed).

But this year felt different.

It wasn’t a walk in the park, but it was gentler than the year before...which was gentler than the year before....which was gentler than the year before.

That’s the rhythm of growth through challenge.

It doesn’t happen overnight, it happens year after year, as pain softens into perspective.

So this year, instead of spiralling into grief, I felt gratitude.

Gratitude for the time spent, for what I learned through the experience, and for how far I’ve come since those early years when the loss felt all-consuming.

Just two days earlier, I'd watched the girls I mentor through Great Girls graduate from the programme. They were excited, radiant, nervous, and full of hope.

Their hugs were tighter, eyes were shining, outfits were thoroughly planned and co-ordinated.

Don't even get me started on how strong their selfie games were.

As I sat down to write this week's post it hit me that this week held both ends of the emotional spectrum.

Grief and gratitude.

Endings and beginnings.

The hard and the beautiful, intertwined.

What Pain Teaches Us About Love and Growth

There’s a lyric in Andy Grammer’s “I Wish You Pain” that has always stayed with me:

“’Cause your heart, it grows every time it breaks.”

I used to think that was just poetic optimism.

Something people say to make pain feel more bearable.

Now, I know it’s true.

Grief broke me open.

It forced me to confront who I was beneath the roles, the goals, and the relentless doing.

And over time, it grew my capacity for deep love and gratitude.

Pain stretches the heart.

Not just in sadness, but in compassion.

For others, for ourselves, for the moments (quiet and loud ones) that remind us we’re still here.

Holding Both: The Hard and the Beautiful

There’s another lyric that captures this so perfectly:

“’Cause everything that matters most, that’s where it goes by a different name.”

I’ve learned that what we call pain often turns out to be transformation.

What feels like an ending sometimes becomes an invitation.

Standing beside the girls on Saturday, I felt that.

Their excitement reminded me of who I used to be.

Ambitious, certain, ready to take on the world.

But their vulnerability mirrored who I am now.

Someone who understands how fragile and precious that drive can be.

(Also how self-destructive it can be if not channelled in a healthy way, but that's a different discussion).

I could feel both the ache of missing what was, and the joy of witnessing what’s next.

Maybe that’s what wisdom really is.

Learning to hold joy and sadness at the same time without needing to fix either.

Sidebar: Oriah Mountain Dreamer has a line in 'The Invitation' that also lives rent-free in my head.

'I want to know if you can sit with pain, mine or your own, without moving to hide it, or fade it, or fix it.'

Pain as a Pathway to Presence

Grief taught me that pain doesn’t have to define us, but it can refine us.

It makes us gentler leaders.

Better listeners.

More grounded human beings.

It strips away what’s performative and leaves only what’s real.

That’s what I carry into my work today.

Helping leaders pause long enough to notice what their challenges are trying to teach them.

Because every time something breaks, it creates an opening.

And through that opening, clarity often emerges.

Finding Meaning in the Messy Middle

“I’ve been here before, and I just wanna see you grow.”

That lyric feels personal now. (Once again, thank you Andy Grammar.)

Because grief, growth, and mentorship have all shown me the same thing:

We don’t have to choose between the hard and the beautiful.

We can learn to live with both.

We can be people who know pain intimately, and still choose joy when it comes.

Watching the Great Girls graduates this weekend, I could imagine Leo smiling proudly, both of them and of how far I’ve come.

That thought, thankfully, didn’t hurt anymore.

It made me smile.

Growing Through Challenge - Not Just Recovering From It

If you’re in a season that feels heavy or complicated, where loss and joy coexist, know this:

You’re not broken. You’re just changing.

Transformation can be a good thing.

Pain may not feel like a gift, but it can open the door to meaning, empathy, and strength if you allow it.

And that’s what I’ve learned to honour.

In myself, in the women I work with, and in the leaders who are learning to grow through what they once tried to avoid.

That’s what we explore at Glimmer:

How to grow through challenge, not just recover from it.

Because everything that matters most rarely arrives in perfect wrapping.

Sometimes, it comes disguised as pain.

And ends up teaching us what it means to be human.

#Leadership #WomenInLeadership #AuthenticLeadership #Resilience #GrowthMindset #WellbeingAtWork #SustainableSuccess