When We Grow Edges

I love gardening and spending time outdoors—it often gives me a much-needed mind break and headspace for reflection. While pruning my ornamental holly tree recently, I noticed very different leaves from the same tree. What stood out was not just their size, but their age and the environment where they grew—some on low branches, exposed and vulnerable, others higher up, safer from harm.

It made me think about how much we have in common with the nature around us.

"All from the same tree. Some soft, some armoured—each shaped by age, experiences, where it grew, and what it needed to protect itself. Just like us."

When We Grow Edges

When we are born, we have soft and smooth edges. Open hearts. Unfiltered feelings. No armour, no caution. We are instinct, trust, and connection.

Then life happens.

We experience hurt. Disappointment. Betrayal. We come across people who don’t treat us well. Sometimes we’re simply unlucky. And in response, we begin to protect ourselves.

We develop spikes and sharp edges, primarily, to protect ourselves from further hurt.
And they work. They keep us safe. They help us feel like we have some control over how much we allow in, and how much we risk.

But sometimes, those protective strategies also keep us prisoner. They don’t allow anything in, but they also keep us in.

As human beings, we have a need to feel connected and to belong. We long for closeness—but we’re armoured. We want to be seen—but not too much. We crave safety, but sometimes we end up feeling isolated instead.

And we often judge ourselves for those sharp spikes and edges.
We shame ourselves. We find it hard to accept the parts of us that feel a little harsh or not so nice.
But the truth is—those parts formed for a reason. They came from pain. From self-protection. From survival.
No one has ever shamed or criticised themselves into a better version.

It’s not with judgement that we soften—it’s with kindness.

With self-compassion and understanding, we can learn to gently and carefully soften our spikes and edges.

Not all at once. Not everywhere.
But slowly, safely, in the presence of trust.

Because even with all our edges, the desire for connection never really goes away.
It just waits—patiently—for a moment when it feels safe enough to reach out again.

Softening our edges takes time and patience, but every small step brings us closer to connection and peace. Wherever you are in your journey, may you meet yourself with compassion and gentle understanding. How might you begin to notice your own edges—and offer them a little kindness today?