Once upon a time I was a butterfly. I fluttered my creative wings as a teacher, mother, wife, writer, artist and friend. Life was beautiful and fun, full of love, light and laughter.
Life in the garden became busier, full of all the elements I wanted, but too much of each, and I often felt overwhelmed. The other butterflies gave good advice, and I tried to do what they said, but secretly I wished I was a moth. No, I'd still have to fly. Hmmm, maybe a caterpillar! In my cocoon I could rest, read and think.
Sometimes I wished I was invisible. I got my wish. One day I woke up snuggled cosily inside a silky, soft cocoon. It was quiet. I felt safe. There wasn't much to do. Bliss?
Well, no. It was dark, and I was cold and sad. I missed doing the things I used to love doing, and didn't feel much like my true self. I slept a lot, and sometimes chatted to the few people who knew where to find me. Nobody expected much of me.
I could hibernate in my cosy place and dream of being creative, useful and vibrant. Little sunlight penetrated the walls of my cocoon, and I could only see the silky wall in front of me. My sanctuary was now my prison. My wings began to itch, trying to flutter. I dreamed about the colours and intricate designs once displayed on my delicate wings, and I wondered: if I did one day emerge, would they still look the same? Would I still be me?
I missed the exhilaration of flying and the excitement of exploring. I started to take little actions to poke holes in my beautiful prison. I caught glimpses of light and freedom. I still felt dull and shaky, my wings still held tightly against my body, but each day as I took brave little steps, I got stronger and my wings grew more flexible.
I was ready to be me. I would shed my imaginary cloak of invisibility and let my true colours shine again. Something invisible can't glow, and oh, how I wanted to glow!
I beat my wings furiously, ready to break out of my cocoon.
It hurt, but only a little ... and without grand ceremony, I quietly emerged.
At first I was embarrassed to see my own reflection in the glassy pond, and shy when anyone saw me smile, but I wouldn't go back. I fluttered peacefully around the garden, and as I reconnected with friends and rediscovered my dreams, I remembered who I was and realised I no longer wanted to be invisible. I ventured a little further each day,
I saw beauty and hope, and flew towards it.
_______________________
I am thankful for that safe, cosy cocoon which sheltered me, and the friends and family who stayed by my side encouraging, waiting, hoping, praying.
I learned a lot of things about myself and my place in the world. I started to refute the lies my caterpillar mind was telling me, and replaced them with positive butterfly words. I named the critical messengers in my mind, and discovered their kinder flip sides.
I prayed for energy and the courage to break free and fly.
I'm free ... exploring, creating and growing. I emerged ready to focus on the ideas, hopes, dreams, faith and love I want to grow while I live in this garden. Life is beautiful.
P.S.
Some of what is precious to me might not delight you, and that's ok ... this page is a place for whoever wants to be here. If you like what I write, I hope you'll come here often. Feel free to share a link to my page and invite your friends to GLOW too!
This is a simple tale which glosses over details, some of which I'll fill in little by little as I learn to trust my voice and you, my readers. My cocoon was woven of threads of illness, overthinking and overwhelm; and of course my retreat was not entirely voluntary. Depression, perfectionism and fatigue are cruel teachers, but I have learned from them.
Please forgive the lack of scientific accuracy in my butterfly story ... I mean no insult to moths, butterflies or caterpillars!
Thanks, V.
Life in the garden became busier, full of all the elements I wanted, but too much of each, and I often felt overwhelmed. The other butterflies gave good advice, and I tried to do what they said, but secretly I wished I was a moth. No, I'd still have to fly. Hmmm, maybe a caterpillar! In my cocoon I could rest, read and think.
Sometimes I wished I was invisible. I got my wish. One day I woke up snuggled cosily inside a silky, soft cocoon. It was quiet. I felt safe. There wasn't much to do. Bliss?
Well, no. It was dark, and I was cold and sad. I missed doing the things I used to love doing, and didn't feel much like my true self. I slept a lot, and sometimes chatted to the few people who knew where to find me. Nobody expected much of me.
I could hibernate in my cosy place and dream of being creative, useful and vibrant. Little sunlight penetrated the walls of my cocoon, and I could only see the silky wall in front of me. My sanctuary was now my prison. My wings began to itch, trying to flutter. I dreamed about the colours and intricate designs once displayed on my delicate wings, and I wondered: if I did one day emerge, would they still look the same? Would I still be me?
I missed the exhilaration of flying and the excitement of exploring. I started to take little actions to poke holes in my beautiful prison. I caught glimpses of light and freedom. I still felt dull and shaky, my wings still held tightly against my body, but each day as I took brave little steps, I got stronger and my wings grew more flexible.
I was ready to be me. I would shed my imaginary cloak of invisibility and let my true colours shine again. Something invisible can't glow, and oh, how I wanted to glow!
I beat my wings furiously, ready to break out of my cocoon.
It hurt, but only a little ... and without grand ceremony, I quietly emerged.
At first I was embarrassed to see my own reflection in the glassy pond, and shy when anyone saw me smile, but I wouldn't go back. I fluttered peacefully around the garden, and as I reconnected with friends and rediscovered my dreams, I remembered who I was and realised I no longer wanted to be invisible. I ventured a little further each day,
I saw beauty and hope, and flew towards it.
_______________________
I am thankful for that safe, cosy cocoon which sheltered me, and the friends and family who stayed by my side encouraging, waiting, hoping, praying.
I learned a lot of things about myself and my place in the world. I started to refute the lies my caterpillar mind was telling me, and replaced them with positive butterfly words. I named the critical messengers in my mind, and discovered their kinder flip sides.
I prayed for energy and the courage to break free and fly.
I'm free ... exploring, creating and growing. I emerged ready to focus on the ideas, hopes, dreams, faith and love I want to grow while I live in this garden. Life is beautiful.
P.S.
Some of what is precious to me might not delight you, and that's ok ... this page is a place for whoever wants to be here. If you like what I write, I hope you'll come here often. Feel free to share a link to my page and invite your friends to GLOW too!
This is a simple tale which glosses over details, some of which I'll fill in little by little as I learn to trust my voice and you, my readers. My cocoon was woven of threads of illness, overthinking and overwhelm; and of course my retreat was not entirely voluntary. Depression, perfectionism and fatigue are cruel teachers, but I have learned from them.
Please forgive the lack of scientific accuracy in my butterfly story ... I mean no insult to moths, butterflies or caterpillars!
Thanks, V.