How Embracing Discomfort and Self-Kindness Can Lead to Unexpected Joy

by Angie Petrie

Growth in Unlikely Places

 Sometimes, the path to growth isn’t grand or glamorous. It doesn’t always announce itself with bold triumphs or well-lit achievements. More often, it’s found in the soft shuffle down a conference corridor, in the warmth of a quiet conversation, or in those moments spent sitting with what doesn’t quite fit. 

A Retreat of Real Connections

 Recently, I attended a weekend retreat—an experience that brought together a unique assembly of creative counsellors, each with their own stories, gifts, and vulnerabilities. In that gathering, I noticed something special, amidst the rescue missions (yes, we are still human) and needs being quietly met, there was a refreshing self-awareness. Most people were willing to have hard conversations and share threads of deep vulnerability, stepping into spaces where real healing could happen. 

The Fear of Missing Out and the Power of Presence

 Yet even in such supportive company, a sense of missing out can sneak in. With multiple workshop choices on offer—each session a fork in the road—I found myself wrestling with a familiar feeling of “what if?” What if I chose the wrong workshop? What if my experience wasn’t as meaningful as someone else’s? As I sat in a session on creative card work, it struck me that I could have easily felt bored or disengaged if I hadn’t allowed myself to be present and vulnerable. 

The Beauty of Unfinishedness

 That’s when the idea of “unfinishedness” came alive for me. Back home, I glanced at my table and noticed a painted stone—half-finished, untouched since before the retreat. It hadn’t made it to the conference with the others and, oddly enough, I felt empathy for it. It became a quiet metaphor for anyone who’s felt left behind or only partially present—those who attended but had to leave early, maybe not feeling a session was complete or couldn’t connect with the subject, or those who wanted to come but couldn’t. We all carry a sense of being “incomplete” at times, don’t we? 

Slowing Down and Trusting the Process

 On Sunday morning, I gave myself the rare gift of not rushing—savouring a slow start, a warm drink, and the gentle reminder that it’s okay to move at my own pace. Don’t get me wrong I had a sense I could still ‘hurry up’ but I checked in with myself: “Is it really a problem if I’m late?” No, not really. What mattered was showing up for me, guided by a gentle faith that the day would unfold as it needed, I could trust in God’s time. 

Serendipity in Small Moments

 Throughout the retreat, a beautiful rhythm had emerged. Some may call it the unforced rhythms of grace. Whenever I stepped out for a coffee, lingered near the sales table, or chatted with the receptionist, meaningful encounters appeared. Sometimes, someone would be there at just the right moment—an old friend, a new acquaintance, a chance to offer or receive a word of kindness. These moments weren’t orchestrated; they were received, and each felt like a small blessing. 

Self-Kindness builds Connection

 By the end, I realised that allowing myself to acknowledge and care for my own needs didn’t mean neglecting others. In fact, it made me a better supporter. Sometimes, choosing to step out of a session for a quiet moment or to move seats to talk with someone one to one, wasn’t selfish, it was necessary. And each act of self-kindness had a ripple effect, feeding my capacity to connect with others in a more authentic way. 

The Journey Home: Fullness After the Retreat

 The journey home was equally nourishing, a time of shared stories and gentle validation with a fellow traveller. When I walked through my front door, instead of feeling depleted (as I have often felt after past conferences), I felt full, alive, ready to connect again. There was a joyful welcome and a readiness to re-engage with family, to share stories, and to walk the garden path with renewed energy. 

Carrying the Lessons Forward

So, what did I learn? I could have chosen to focus on what I missed, on the “unfinished stones” and longing for what wasn’t. Instead, I realised that carrying a metaphorical stone of encouragement in my pocket, reminding myself to check in, to move at my own pace, to let go of perfection, made all the difference. 

I couldn’t have done this alone and I am thankful for the gentle nudge of encouragement from some amazing friends and loyal supporters. Growth, I’ve found, lives in those connections: the shared hugs, the brief conversations, the validation we give ourselves and each other.

 Vulnerability isn’t a weakness; it’s a bridge to joy and understanding. If you find yourself feeling a little out of place, a little unfinished maybe, let it be your invitation to slow down, check in, and offer yourself the empathy you so readily offer others. 

After all, sometimes the most important growth happens in the quietest moments, when you allow yourself to simply be, unfinished edges and all.

The image below is what I drew from my experience of the weekend, it offered me a place to be my own ideal friend and support myself into greater freedom. What might your ideal friend say to you today.