It's All Goo(d): You Can Survive The "Messy Middle"
I don’t remember exactly when or how I learned that caterpillars turn to complete and total goo when they’re in their cocoons, doing the hard work of becoming butterflies. I know it was sometime during the blurry point in my life when things were “supposed” to be coming together and just weren’t.
All my friends were hitting strides in their careers, getting married, buying houses and having kids, while I was… not. As I approached my 30s, I had “failed” a shockingly-short marriage to a great, but not great for me, guy. The divorce was easy on paper but hard on my heart in so many ways. And I was barely through the emotional shock when I was hit by another one: my spine needed stabilization surgery to stop itself from falling all the way apart. It took 13 months of healing and rehab to adjust to my new bionic body. I thought things were finally turning around when I got back on “the scene” and started dating again, but the very first guy I picked as a potential keeper ended up being a total dud (and kind of a jerk). It turned out that he had never actually quit dating his ‘ex’ and it took me almost a year to put two and two together. Let’s just say that my choices didn’t really get better from there…
And it wasn’t just the guys. I was turning increasingly more often to wine and whiskey as (actually kind of awful) coping tools/escapes from a life that I wasn’t totally proud of.
So I suppose it’s no surprise that I don’t remember where I picked up the random entomology fact or even who shared it with me. Maybe it was my wise therapist or one of my BFFs who played armchair psychologist via Google chats in between sessions.
All I know is that it stuck with me.
I clung to the idea that all of the goo — all of those icky and hard things that had happened (and then some) — were necessary for what was going to come next. That it wasn’t about forgetting them or denying them. It was about doing the sometimes brutal work of integrating and synthesizing them into something beautiful.
Somewhere around the same time, while I was still very much in the messy middle, I re-discovered author Cheryl Strayed. She had a way of writing things that made sense to my head and my heart in a way that few others could at the time. So when I fell across this passage of hers about the transformation I was so desperately longing for, I dog-eared the page and even wrote out all the words in my journal:
“Transformation isn't a butterfly. It's the thing before you get to be a pretty bug flying away. It's huddling in the dark cocoon and then pushing your way out. It's the messy work of making sense of your fortunes and misfortunes, desires and doubts, hang-ups and sorrows, actions and accidents, mistakes and successes, so you can go on and become the person you must next become.” — Cheryl Strayed
It took a while (I’m talking a few years here) and a hell of a lot more personal growth work to finally feel like I was starting to actually become something inside my cocoon. And the path wasn’t always linear. I’d make a little bit of progress only to take a few steps back, and I definitely made a few wrong turns.
But eventually I realized that I had pushed through to the outside. I could look in the mirror and see the butterfly — a woman who had been through some stuff, done the messy work, and emerged even better than OK.
I hope that I won’t ever have to go through another painful transformation like the one I did in my late 20s and early 30s. But I know that I might, especially if I stay committed to growing. I also know that even though the work is hard, it’s worth it.
Maybe you find yourself in the middle of your own transformation.
Maybe you’ve realized that an old identity doesn’t fit anymore. Or you’ve been through a major life change that has shifted everything around you and now you need to shift too. And maybe it feels like you’re never going to come out of the messy middle. Maybe it’s a little bit scary to be coming undone and gooey in that dark cocoon.
I’ve learned that there are a few ways to make it just a tiny bit easier:
Give yourself permission to be in the messy middle. It’s so easy to want to quickly get to the other side. But, like Cheryl Strayed says, “transformation isn’t the butterfly.” So do whatever you need to do — journal, cry, scream, run it out, etc. — to stay committed to the work. It may be hard and it may be awful some days, but it’ll be worth it.
Find something to cling to. Just like a cocoon dangles off a tree branch, you can find something to anchor to as well. You might try finding a quote or an image or even a song that helps you feel steadied and know that you’re exactly where you’re meant to be right now.
Let yourself be in a supportive cocoon. Just because it’s your work doesn’t mean you need to go it alone. Whether you find a circle of women going through something similar, a good therapist, a supportive coach, or some combo of all three, know that it’s absolutely OK to acknowledge that you need it and then ask for help.
Trust the goo is good. This takes practice. But you can remind yourself as often as you need to that something beautiful is going to emerge as all the bits and pieces of your previous self are being re-ordered.
You can and will survive. (And you’ll love the you on the other side.)
If you’re in the messy middle and would like some coaching support through your own transformation, I’d be honored to help. Let’s connect and see if working together makes sense for both of us. You can learn more about my work or schedule a free, no-obligation chat to see if we’d be a good fit for each other.