There’s something about spring that hits different in midlife.
Not in the “let’s clean out the garage” way (though sure, that too). But in the holy crap, I’ve lived a lot of life and I still feel like I’m becoming kind of way.
It’s not a tidy process. It’s more caterpillar-goo and underground-root system than overnight glow-up. But it’s happening. Quietly, and then all at once.
The Caterpillar: Dissolving to Become
Here’s the thing they never told us in science class: the caterpillar doesn’t just sprout wings and take off. She completely dissolves inside the cocoon. Her old self becomes unrecognizable mush before the butterfly is even possible.
Sound familiar?
Maybe you’re in the goo phase. Life as you knew it melted down—divorce, empty nest, burnout, grief, aging parents, a big birthday, or maybe just a growing sense that this isn’t it anymore.
I remember sitting on my porch one afternoon last spring—still in work clothes, barefoot, tired to my bones—and just crying. Not because I was sad, exactly. But because something in me knew I was done pretending everything was fine. I was in the middle of the cocoon, and everything familiar was dissolving. That moment felt like loss, but it was actually the beginning.
It’s disorienting, but it’s also sacred. Because without that breakdown, there’s no breakthrough. Without the cocoon, no butterfly.
The Bamboo: Trusting the Invisible Work
Bamboo spends three years growing roots underground before anything peeks through the surface. And then? It can shoot up 90 feet in just six weeks.
But you don’t get the wild growth without the long, quiet prep season.
I don’t know who needs to hear this, but maybe the past few years weren’t a waste. Maybe you weren’t lazy or stuck or behind. Maybe you were laying roots. Strengthening your foundation. Becoming unshakeable.
So if nothing “looks” like it’s happening right now? Trust the invisible work. Your launch might just be around the corner.
And listen—I know the world loves quick wins. But some of us are on the bamboo timeline. And that’s not a weakness—that’s wisdom.
The Awakening: What Even Is That?
Let’s talk spiritual awakening—but not in the incense and enlightenment sense (unless that’s your thing—light it up, sis).
For me, it’s been more subtle. Like the soft whisper of something more nudging me awake. It’s the noticing. The little inner shifts. The letting go of who I thought I had to be. The quiet “no” to what drains me, and the curious “yes” to what stirs me.
Sometimes my awakening looks like deep conversations with my daughters. Or standing in my kitchen realizing I’m not chasing anything anymore—I’m returning to myself. And sometimes? It looks like crying while folding laundry.
So yeah… if spiritual awakening means sobbing while trying to find a matching sock, then baby—I’m basically a monk.
Maybe that’s what awakening is: not a destination, but a remembering of who we’ve always been.
If You’re In It…
Here’s what I want you to know if you’re in the middle of it all:
- You’re not behind. You’re actually right on time.
- You’re not broken. You’re becoming.
- You don’t need a plan. You just need breath, trust, and maybe a friend who gets it.
So take a deep breath. Take a walk barefoot. Put your hand on your heart and say, “I’m still here.” That’s more than enough.
Try This: Reflection + Grounding Prompts
Pull out a journal. Open the Notes app. Or plug these right into ChatGPT if you want to explore with AI:
Prompt 1:
What season am I in right now—cocoon, root-building, rising, or something else entirely?
Prompt 2:
What am I being invited to let go of? What’s quietly trying to bloom in its place?
Prompt 3:
What would I tell my 25-year-old self about becoming?
Mini Practice:
Every morning this week, stand outside—even for one minute. Breathe. Notice one thing you’re grateful for. That’s your root work.
Bonus: A Soundtrack for the Shift
Play these as you journal, clean, cry, or drive:
- “Butterfly” by Jon Batiste – pure transformation in song form
- “Landslide” (acoustic versions, pick your fave) – because midlife is a landslide and a lift
- “This Woman’s Work” by Kate Bush – for the sacredness of what we carry
From My Heart to Yours
You don’t have to make a five-year plan from the cocoon. You just have to keep showing up—breathing, softening, listening.
You’re not starting over. You’re starting deeper.
This spring isn’t about reinvention so much as remembrance. A rising from what’s been buried. And the you that’s emerging? She’s more powerful, more radiant, and more aligned than ever.
Let it be slow. Let it be sacred. Let it be yours.
If this touched you, share it with a friend who’s blooming in the dark. Or hit reply and tell me what part you’re in right now. We’re not meant to go through this alone.
