The Softness of Progress: Why We Miss Our Own Growth When Anxiety Makes the Bar Too High

For anyone who suffers from any form of anxiety, there is a specific kind of blind spot. Between the physical exhaustion of managing my heart health and the mental loop of 'what ifs,' mine has felt especially huge lately. It’s a gap in our vision that only affects our own progress. You can see the persistence of those around you with total clarity, but when you do the exact same thing, your brain automatically files it under 'the bare minimum.'

We aren't ignoring these moments on purpose; we’re just disqualifying them from the record before they even have a chance to count. It’s not that we’re being ungrateful or failing to be positive enough—it’s simply because somewhere along the way, measuring ourselves by the size of our struggles became the focus, and we lost the softness of our progress.

If you read my last post, you’ll know I talked about how, like a lot of us, I can struggle with my own self‑compassion. It can feel like a foreign language, where being gentle with ourselves feels awkward and unnatural—like we’re breaking some internal rule we didn’t even realise we were following.

And that same quiet hesitation—the part of us that feels like being kind is 'cheating' or 'letting our guard down'—is exactly why we don’t recognise our small victories.

We’ve become so used to the "keep going no matter what" marathon that we don't know how to handle the quiet moments. We’ve been shaped by the messiness of it all; we’ve learned to only look for the big things—the massive breakthroughs that feel like they should have a soundtrack and a dramatic camera angle.

But the reality is usually much quieter. It’s subtle. It’s almost boring.

It happens in the gaps and the in-between spaces that nobody else ever sees. Because it doesn’t feel like a "big deal," we just walk right past the dozens of tiny moments where we’re actually starting to do things differently. The seconds where we just... breathed. Or didn't snap. Or actually sat down for five minutes.

We tell ourselves those moments are too small to matter. But honestly? Those are the only moments that actually feel like us again.

Because it doesn't feel "heroic," we assume it isn't happening. But it is. It’s in the moments that feel so ordinary we almost miss them:

Taking a breath before you start tearing yourself apart.

Admitting you’re tired instead of forcing yourself to keep going.

Letting yourself sit down without "earning" the rest first.

Choosing a slightly softer thought, even if it feels clunky and fake.

None of these feel triumphant. They don’t come with fireworks. In the moment, they might even feel like "nothing" or just "doing the bare minimum." But these are the moments that actually matter. Not because they are "victories," but because they are the first signs of us finally finding our feet again.

Every time we choose a slightly softer response, it's not some grand life-changing event. It’s just us quietly pushing back against years of being way too hard on ourselves. It’s not supposed to feel glamorous or like we've suddenly "figured it out." Most of the time, it just feels like... possible. And honestly, "possible" is more than enough.

We don’t need a fancy ritual or a five-step plan to get there. We just need a second to actually notice the things we did today that were a little kinder than yesterday.

It might be something tiny. It might be completely invisible to anyone else. It might even feel like nothing at all. But just noticing it—actually letting it count for once—is a huge deal.

Maybe it's just noticing where we softened, even just a tiny bit. Or realising there was one moment where we didn't beat ourselves up like we usually would. Or that we showed up today, even if it felt a bit messy and held together with string.

If we saw a friend doing that, we’d be so proud of them. We’d see the effort they’re making without needing to analyse it. Maybe we can start trying to see ourselves that way, too.

If you’re reading this, you’re already in the middle of it. You’re paying attention. You’re trying. You’re showing up for yourself in ways you might not even recognise yet.

And that—right there—is enough. It's a start. And it’s something you definitely deserve to see.

So, if you managed to be 2% kinder to yourself today, give yourself a gold star. Or, if a gold star feels too 'sincere' and makes you want to itch, just give yourself a brisk, business-like nod in the hallway mirror, the way you’d acknowledge a neighbor you don’t particularly like but whose bins you once brought in. You don’t even have to like what you see; just acknowledge that the person looking back at you survived the day without a soundtrack or a slow-motion montage, and honestly? That’s basically a cinematic masterpiece☺️. 

It might not be love at first sight, but at least we’re finally starting to acknowledge the person who’s been doing all the heavy lifting.

Here are two more posts you’re welcome to explore:

The Secret Operating System: The Odd Little Rituals That Keep Us Sane

Every Step Counts: Why Small Wins Matter When Anxiety Feels Heavy

Thanks for reading and virtual hugs to you all