As February begins, there’s often a subtle sense of shifting.
January can feel long and heavy. A month to get through rather than fully live in. For many, it’s about hunkering down — getting back into routines, managing expectations, carrying what the new year has already brought.
And then, quietly, something changes.
I noticed it yesterday while walking — the first snowdrops beginning to appear. Easy to miss if you’re not looking for them.
Snowdrops don’t arrive with fanfare. They don’t signal that winter is over or that everything is suddenly better. They appear while the ground is still hard, while the days are still short. They grow anyway.
I find something comforting about that.
Growth doesn’t wait for perfect conditions. It doesn’t always happen when life feels settled or clear. Often, it begins beneath the surface — invisible, slow, and cautious.
I believe personal growth can be like that too.
People often come to counselling feeling unsure whether anything can really shift. They may still be grieving, stuck, overwhelmed, or numb. Nothing feels easy. Nothing feels clear.
And yet, the decision to pause, to talk, or to want answers about what’s going on inside — that can be the beginning. Not a sudden transformation, but a start.
Counselling isn’t about forcing change or rushing towards solutions. It’s about creating space. A space where you don’t have to have it all figured out. A space where feelings can be explored safely, at your own pace. A space where small insights, moments of understanding, or self-compassion can begin to take shape.
I often see this kind of quiet change in my work. It’s not usually dramatic. It might be a small shift — noticing your feelings a little sooner, or being a bit kinder to yourself than you were before. Sometimes it’s just a sense that something is moving, even though life around you looks the same.
As February begins, I’m mindful of how easy it is to think growth has to look a certain way. I don’t believe it does. It doesn’t follow a neat timeline.
Sometimes growth is simply about allowing yourself to be where you are, and trusting that something is gently unfolding beneath the surface.
"I trust the timing of my own growth."