Like an Inchworm
Yesterday, I was reading this book and the writer had such a profound way of explaining growth. You could say I had a eureka! moment, because I never thought of it that way.
That’s one thing I love about reading — it gives you the opportunity to see beyond your worldview and see life from the lenses of the writer.
So I thought to share with you what I learned (say thank you😂).
So think of an inchworm. Not in a cute way. But in a “go to the ants, you sluggard” type of way.
Another thing that comes to mind with this is how God engineered all creatures to be lessons in a way. That if you really paid attention, you’d learn a whole lot.
An inchworm doesn’t move by constantly going forward. It anchors one end of itself, stretches out, then pulls the rest of its body up to meet that new ground. Then it does it again.
Anchor. Reach. Pull forward. Repeat.
And the more I sit with it, the more I realize: this is how real psychological growth actually works.
Here’s the part that made me realize this isn’t just poetic — it’s practical.
One thing that helped this click for me is thinking about progress as a bell curve (progressing from Left to Right).
At any point in time, you’re not operating at one level. You have a range.
There’s your best days (A) — when you’re regulated, disciplined, present.
There’s your average (B)
And then there are your worst days (C) — when fear, impulse, or old patterns run the show.
You’d think improvement means pushing the front of the curve — chasing more peak moments, more “A” days.
But that’s only half the picture.
Real improvement happens when the entire curve moves forward.
That’s the inchworm again.
First, the front moves forward — from you consciously choosing to be better.
Then the back catches up — you also going back to worst of you and making changes there as well.
Over time, what used to be your worst days disappear. Old mistakes stop being available to you.
Your old “C” gradually disappears.
Your old “B” becomes your new “C”.
Your new “B” is at your old “A”.
You’re gradually shifting the curve forwards.
Not because you’re trying harder — but because you’ve grown past certain ways of thinking and reacting.
This is why focusing only on peak performance is dangerous.
If the front moves forward but the back doesn’t, the range actually widens. That’s when people burn out, inconsistency shows up, and big regressions happen after moments of progress.
Contrary to popular belief, your backend (C) doesn’t move automatically move forward because your frontend (A) did.
So the work isn’t always about reaching higher. Sometimes it’s about cleaning up what still pulls you backward. Correcting the current weakest point. Raising the floor, not just the ceiling.
That’s how the inchworm really moves forward —front advances, back follows, and the whole system shifts.
Most of us (and me until recently) think growth means pushing. Becoming more. Doing better. Healing faster. Loving harder. Being braver.
But pushing without something solid behind you doesn’t feel like growth — it feels like anxiety.
Before you can reach for anything new — vulnerability, discipline, intimacy, purpose — something in you has to feel safe first. Regulated. Grounded. Held.
That’s the anchor.
And when there’s no anchor, reaching forward turns into panic, burnout, or emotional shutdown. I’ve lived that.
But staying anchored forever isn’t the answer either.
Because safety without stretch slowly turns into avoidance. Comfort starts pretending to be wisdom. Fear starts sounding like discernment. And you look back, in 10 years, and realize you’re stuck in the same place — mentally, emotionally, spiritually (any of the allys). No growth.
So growth lives in the tension between the two.
You stretch — carefully. Honestly.
Then you come back.
You let your nervous system catch up. You integrate what you just learned.
Then you stretch again.
I believe that this is literally how our nervous systems are designed to learn.
We’re not built for extremes. We’re built for rhythm.
Calm → activation → calm again.
Safety → risk → safety again.
When we get stuck on one side, things start breaking down:
Constant pushing leads to anxiety and exhaustion.
Constant retreat leads to numbness and stagnation.
Healing isn’t choosing one. It’s learning how to move between both.
You see this clearly in attachment stylessssss (the avoidant and anxious epidemic).
A child explores the world because they know they can come back. The caregiver is the anchor. Exploration is the reach.
When the anchor isn’t reliable, the patterns get messy:
Some people stop reaching.
Some reach desperately.
Some do both, back and forth.
As adults, we replay this everywhere — in relationships, faith, work, even in how we treat ourselves.
This is also why real change feels slow. It looks unimpressive. It feels repetitive. Boring on most days. Sometimes it even looks like going backwards.
But every time you stretch and then return safely, you’re making that new ground part of you. You’re not just visiting growth — you’re integrating it.
That’s not failure. That’s how change sticks.
So maybe the question isn’t “Why am I not moving faster?”
Maybe it’s:
Where am I reaching without anchoring?
And where am I anchoring without ever reaching?
Growth doesn’t ask you to sprint.
It asks you to move truthfully.
Anchor. Reach. Pull yourself forward. Repeat.
That’s the inchworm way.
I doubt I can end this piece about the lessons to be learned from the creation without talking about the Creator.
God remains and will always be the best place to anchor yourself. Your identity is best rooted in Him, before you seek to expand yourself.
Here are some Bible verses to really drive this home:
“He will be the sure foundation for your times, a rich store of salvation and wisdom and knowledge” - Isaiah 33:6
“God, you’re such a safe and powerful place to find refuge! You’re a proven help in time of trouble— more than enough and always available whenever I need you.” - Psalms 46:1
“The eternal God is your refuge, and his everlasting arms are under you…”-Deuteronomy 33:27
“The Lord directs the steps of the godly. He delights in every detail of their lives. Though they stumble, they will never fall, for the Lord holds them by the hand.” - Psalms 37:23-24