For The One Who’s Outgrown Their Life

This meditation is for the moment you realise the life you’ve built no longer quite fits — even if you can’t explain why.
It offers a quiet, safe space to honour the ache for something more, without guilt or urgency.
You don’t need a plan, just a willingness to listen inward and be honest about what’s shifting.
Let this be a soft beginning — a pause to reconnect with yourself, and the version of you that’s slowly emerging.
Because outgrowing isn’t failure. It’s the first sign of becoming.

Transcript

This meditation has been created as a soft space for you to pause and sit gently with whatever is rising for you right now.

There's nothing you need to solve,

No insight you have to chase.

It's simply an invitation to listen inward to that quiet part of you that knows you're meant for more,

Even if you don't know what that more is just yet.

You might like to journal afterwards or simply notice if one thought,

One feeling or one next step stays with you.

There's no right way to do this,

Only your way.

Let yourself arrive,

Not as someone with answers or clarity or a plan,

But just as you are.

Let yourself settle into a posture that feels right for your body.

You might like to sit up straight and cross your legs or you might like to lie down and completely relax.

It's entirely up to you,

No pressure,

Just space.

If your shoulders are tight,

Let them soften.

If your breath feels shallow,

Let it stretch.

If your jaw has been clenched,

Let it go and just taking a moment to come into yourself.

Feel your body beginning to settle and if it helps maybe have one last wriggle or shift just to get that little bit more comfortable.

This is your space now,

You made it,

You've shown up and that is more than enough.

You don't need to know what comes next,

You don't need to figure anything out,

You just need to be here because maybe,

Just maybe,

This is the moment where something begins to shift.

There's a part of you that's been whispering for a while now,

Not loudly,

Not even clearly,

But it's there.

That soft hum that says this isn't quite right,

I think I'm meant for more.

You might not know what more means yet,

It might not be a job or a relationship or a location,

It might just be a feeling of aliveness,

Of ease,

Of being fully yourself.

Somewhere along the way you started believing that wanting more made you ungrateful or dramatic or selfish.

So you stayed small,

You talked yourself down,

You kept showing up,

Kept carrying on even though something inside you has been quietly unravelling and maybe you've tried to convince yourself it's fine,

It's all fine.

There are people who have it worse,

You should be thankful,

You've got good things,

People love you,

They need you and still there's this ache,

Not loud but persistent.

You feel it when you're folding the laundry,

When you're lying awake at night,

When you catch your own reflection and quietly wonder who even is this?

Who is this person looking back at me?

You've spent so long making other people comfortable,

Tending to their needs,

Shaping yourself to meet their expectations that now when you turn inward there's silence.

Not because there's nothing there but because you were never taught to ask what do I want,

What do I need,

What do I like,

Just for me.

There's nothing wrong with you,

You're not broken,

You're just beginning to listen to that part of yourself that you've silenced to make everyone else comfortable.

You don't have to explain it to anyone,

You don't even have to act on it yet.

But let's start here by saying it gently,

Maybe even for the first time,

I think I'm meant for more.

I think I'm meant for more.

And so what if not knowing what you want isn't a failure but a beginning?

What if the quiet discomfort you feel right now isn't a sign that you're broken but a sign that you're finally waking up?

You've spent years mastering the art of holding it all together,

Of meeting needs,

Of keeping the peace,

Of being who others needed you to be.

That's not weakness,

That's strength,

That's resilience,

That's love in one of its hardest forms.

But now your soul is tugging at the seams and instead of ignoring her,

Let that be enough for now.

This noticing,

This gentle shift,

This moment where something begins to bloom quietly,

Bravely and in your own time.

Imagine yourself sitting on a beautiful white soft sandy beach,

The kind where your feet sink just enough and the warmth of the earth below meets the cool of the breeze above.

It's quiet here,

Just the rhythm of the waves and the steady presence of your own breath.

In the distance you notice someone walking slowly toward you.

Something about them feels familiar,

Not in their face exactly but in their energy.

They're calm,

They're knowing.

As they come closer you realise it's you.

Not the you of today but the you of several years from now.

She looks softer somehow,

Strong,

At peace in a way you didn't know was possible.

She settles beside you on the sand.

You don't speak right away,

You just breathe together watching the ocean roll in and out.

And then,

Gently,

She turns to you and says My darling,

I know you feel unsure.

I've been there.

I still remember the ache,

The feeling that something is missing but you can't name what.

The days where the fog doesn't lift but you keep showing up anyway.

The guilt for wanting something else and the shame for not knowing what that else even is.

I remember lying in bed at night,

Staring at the ceiling,

Wondering if I was just being dramatic.

If maybe this was just what life felt like.

Dull,

Depleted,

Dutiful,

Like joy was something reserved for other people.

But here's what I want you to know.

You're not broken.

You're not ungrateful.

And no,

You're not asking for too much.

You are at the beginning of something real.

A quiet reckoning.

There is more.

Not in a hustle harder kind of way.

Not in a reinvent yourself kind of way.

But in a come home to yourself kind of way.

You won't need to become someone new.

You'll just need to uncover what's already there.

Beneath the people-pleasing.

Beneath the roles.

Beneath the stories that told you your value came from what you gave,

Not who you are.

I see the woman you're becoming.

She moves slower.

She listens inward.

She doesn't second-guess her worth.

She takes up space,

Gently,

But with conviction.

You don't need to know how to get there.

You just need to keep noticing.

Keep listening.

Keep choosing tiny truths.

Start with this one.

I don't have to stay small to be loved.

You can whisper that to yourself as you brush your teeth.

As you drive to work.

I don't have to stay small to be loved.

I promise you're going to be okay.

More than okay.

You're going to feel alive.

Soft.

Brave.

And deeply,

Deeply,

You.

She gently places her hands on yours.

Looks into your eyes.

Steady.

Soft.

And says,

I promise you it's going to be okay.

You are going to be okay.

I'm here now.

Ready and waiting for you.

It all works out in the end.

You smile.

She smiles back.

And without needing to say anything more,

Your future self slowly rises,

Turns,

And begins to walk back down the beach.

Each step steady.

Each step sure.

Until she fades,

Gently,

Into the distance.

Take a moment here.

Let yourself stay with whatever is lingering.

No need to push it away.

No need to name it.

Just notice your breath.

When you are ready,

Take a moment to come back into the room.

Feel your body.

And feel the steadiness beneath you.

If your fingers and toes want to move,

Let them.

If you want to roll your shoulders or your neck,

Have a stretch,

Go ahead.

Let your body know.

It's safe to soften now.

If you're feeling tender,

That's okay.

You've just witnessed something brave.

You've given yourself space to feel what usually stays hidden.

And that matters.

Even if you don't know what comes next,

You've already done something extraordinary.

You listened.

You paused.

You allowed something true to rise.

Let that be enough for now.

There is no perfect way to grow.

No perfect pace.

No perfect plan.

There is only this moment and your willingness to be in it.

May you carry that softness with you as you return to your day or your night or whatever waits for you next.

And remember,

You are already on your way.

I hope this meditation landed with you in the way you needed it to.

I hope you feel just a little more seen,

A little more softened,

A little more you.

If this meditation was helpful for you,

I'd encourage you to leave a review.

Because it may help someone else find it in their own moment of need.

And if there's a theme you'd love to hear more about,

I'd truly love to know.

Please get in touch.

Thank you for being here with me.

Thank you for showing up with me.

You did something beautiful by pausing.

And right now,

Let that be enough.

Reviews

Thank for this meditation, it was exactly what I needed to hear at this stage of my healing and becoming.