Blog Post Five

“The process is the point”

“The process is where you learn. The process is where you grow. The process is where you develop character and find out who you are. It’s the only path to your goals. The process is the point.”

We get so fixated on the destination—on where we want to be—that we forget the importance of the road we’re walking. We grow impatient, frustrated, wondering why we’re not there yet. But how can we expect to reach the life we dream of without understanding the steps it takes to get there? Without breaking it all down, piece by piece, and building it ourselves?

We crave the outcome but forget to cherish the journey. The truth is, the process is our life. The process is everything. It’s the messy middle, the lessons learned in the struggle, the quiet moments when no one’s watching but you’re still pushing forward. So, cherish that. Cherish your process.

I’ve really had to learn to love mine. And let me tell you, it hasn’t been easy. Especially when you’re in the thick of it, when the weight feels unbearable, and you can’t see the light at the end of the tunnel. A lot of the really hard parts of my life happened when I was young. I still am young, but I’m finally at an age where I can understand what happened to me—and what’s still happening.

It’s like my subconscious knew what was going on before I did. I started self-sabotaging without even realizing it, trying to find some way to cope with the chaos I was living through.

I remember being in Year 8, the start of a new school year. My parents turned to us on the first day and said, “We don’t know if you’re enrolled this year because we haven’t paid your school fees. If your name doesn’t get called during roll call, we’ll be waiting up the road to take you home.”

I sat there on that hill with my entire year, heart pounding, waiting for my name to be called. Luckily, it was. But something shifted in me that day. It was like that moment knocked something loose in my subconscious. From then on, my grades slipped. I couldn’t concentrate in class. I started unraveling, piece by piece.

Year 9 rolled around, and I felt like a shell of a person. My dad announced that we were moving to Singapore for his business. We toured schools, looked at houses, and as a 13-year-old, I believed every word. We’d already moved from New Zealand to Australia for his work, so why would I doubt him? I told everyone I was leaving. On the last day of school, my friends signed my shirt with goodbye messages. I was excited to go.

But in my family, things never really went the way they were supposed to. My dad’s promises were often just words, and soon enough, the move to Singapore didn’t happen. So, back to school I went.

When I showed up the next year, it was like I was a ghost. People were confused. I get it now—it must have been strange for them. But we were young, and instead of asking questions, they labeled me a liar, an attention-seeker. I lost friends. By the end of Year 10, I was sitting alone at lunch, isolated, in a private school full of kids who came from money, while I was just the poor girl with a chaotic family and a reputation I couldn’t shake.

I remember one evening, sitting in my room, tears streaming down my face. My dad yelled for me to come out because we needed to buy school books for the new year. I came out, swollen-eyed and heartbroken, and just broke down in front of them, begging to be homeschooled. I couldn’t go back.

Two days before the new school year started, they finally agreed. I dropped out and enrolled in college to complete a personal training course. I know my parents wanted me to finish school, but as my mum later admitted, they couldn’t afford it anyway. So, as messy as it all was, it worked out in the end—for both of us.

It’s all part of the process, right?

I’ve had a lot of shit happen to me. But I’m oh-so-grateful for all of it. Because without those experiences, I wouldn’t be who I am now. I wouldn’t have the depth of understanding I have for others. I wouldn’t be able to connect with people on the level I do. But most importantly, I wouldn’t understand myself the way I do now. And that? That’s everything.

I can’t change what happened to me. But I can choose how I move forward.

One day, you’ll look back on your life with the clarity of hindsight, and everything will make sense. Why you had to endure what you did. Why certain doors closed. Why you were stuck in certain chapters for far longer than you wanted to be. You’ll see why you had to build self-belief from the ground up. Why it hurt. Why your sadness felt like an ocean that would swallow you whole.

But you’ll also see how every painful piece fits into the bigger picture—the tapestry of your life.

So, if you’re in the thick of it right now, feeling lost, overwhelmed, or stuck, I want you to hold on. Trust that even when it feels dark and uncertain, you are being led somewhere. The process isn’t punishment. It’s preparation. It’s shaping you into the person you’re meant to become.

And one day, you’ll wake up and realize that the very things you thought would break you were the things that built you.

The process is the point. And you’re right where you need to be.

Much love,

Karina Jade xx