The Bloom She Promised Herself

  Written by: Ally Bernales

There are days when I feel like a rose blooming in the wrong season. I look around and everything seems fine—stable, predictable, safe. But deep inside, there’s a quiet tug, a soft but persistent ache that whispers, This isn’t it. This isn’t where you’re meant to be.

I wake up, show up, do the job… and then clock out only to chase more hours, more effort, in other sidelines—trying to make ends meet, trying to make purpose meet passion, trying to convince myself that all this movement means progress. But sometimes, it just feels like running in circles in a garden that isn’t mine.

There’s comfort here, yes. The soil is steady. But it’s not nourishing. And as much as I try to convince myself that it’s enough—that stability should be fulfilling—I know I’ve been here before. The environment may look different, but the feeling? It’s too familiar. The dulling of dreams. The slow shrinking of something that once burned bright inside me.

I promised myself I wouldn’t settle again. I told myself I’d choose growth over comfort this time. But reality is loud, and fear has a clever way of dressing up as reason. So here I am, petals tucked close, wondering if I’m just waiting for permission to bloom again… or courage.

Still, I keep hustling—juggling sidelines, chasing bits of light wherever I can find them. Not just for myself, but for the people I love. My family never asked me to carry the weight. They never placed their dreams on my back. But I want to give them something better. Not out of duty, but out of devotion. I want to give life more than bills and busy days—I want to give joy, relief, a sense of ease they've rarely known.

Sometimes I wonder if that makes me selfish or strong—chasing a dream not just for me, but for them. Because I’m not just trying to survive. I want to live a life that gives, that heals, that matters.

And maybe that’s the gentle truth I need to hold onto: You are allowed to outgrow what once held you. You are allowed to want more, even when no one asks you to. You are allowed to bloom elsewhere—even if it means breaking through the soil of the familiar to reach for a sky that feels far.

Roses weren’t made to just survive. They were made to bloom—even in uncertain seasons, even through concrete, even when no one else sees the sun you're reaching for.

Because sometimes, the most powerful kind of growth is the one done in silence—with love as your roots, and purpose as your light.

Always remember,

You are not behind. You are just gathering strength. Even when the path looks blurry, your desire for something more already means you haven’t given up on yourself. Keep reaching—your bloom is coming, and it will be worth every season of waiting.

-Ally

image from: https://rb.gy/d3j3dj