We pulled carrots from my aunt’s garden late afternoon.
Some slid out long and smooth—the kind you’d expect in a recipe photo. Others came out twisted and stunted, curled in on themselves or forked in odd directions. A few looked barely edible.
My aunt explained simply:
“The water didn’t really soak through evenly,” she said. “I fertilized some spots but not others… the soil was kind of patchy this year.”
That stuck with me.
Because I think people are a lot like carrots.
We grow in whatever environment we’re planted in.
If we’re given space and nourishment, we grow straight and strong.
But when the ground is hard, when the light is uneven, when the conditions are inconsistent—we twist. We bend. We grow around the things we can’t control.
So many of the patterns, insecurities, or self-doubts I carry…
They didn’t come from nowhere.
They came from the environments I was in.
Places that didn’t always know how to nourish me.
People who didn’t always know how to love me well.
And maybe those twisted carrots weren’t failures.
Maybe they just needed a little more care.
A bit more water.
Maybe more consistency.
Sometimes I still feel like I’m stuck in that same kind of environment—like I’m rooted in old soil, repeating old patterns.
But this reflection reminded me:
I don’t have to stay there.
I get to choose.
I get to choose who I surround myself with.
What I consume, what I listen to, what I eat.
I get to set boundaries that protect my peace.
And I’m lucky—because I have people in my life who lift me up.
Who calm my nervous system just by being around.
Who remind me that it’s safe to grow soft again.
Even the twisted parts of me—
They’re starting to untangle.
Not all at once.
But slowly, gently—toward the light.
What kind of soil are you choosing today?