Caterpillar Goo

I’m not sure when this all started, but I suspect it has something to do with turning 30. Not only have I started to wear far more sensible shoes on a daily basis and thrown away all my outlandish lipstick (why did I ever own a bright green lipstick?), but I have also begun the process of growing out my natural graying hair. I’ve stopped spending an hour getting ready in the morning and have instead been spending extra time snuggling my cats and fiance, or photosynthesizing in front of my HappyLight. I have a legitimate vitamin regimen now.

I have been letting go of the things I used to do to feel beautiful, or at least interesting, and am wondering how I had the energy to maintain all of those things for such a long time. I’m also reckoning with my irresponsible, reckless consumption of stuff for the sake of crafting an identity, and am finally really starting to understand the ways I’ve been influenced by media and my culture, the time I came of age, the family I was raised in, and deconstructing nearly everything.

I thought 30 would be an age of self-assuredness, of really knowing who I am and what I want. The first 8 months of my 30’s have instead been a realization that I was basing my identity on mutable objects, on the ephemera of consumption and external signaling. It has also been a time of realizing that part of me had it right at different ages, and that growing doesn’t always mean abandoning the things that came before. 17-year-old me was right about both oversized t-shirts and needing a spiritual anchor. 20-year-old me was right about black lipstick and the power of reading for pleasure and sanity. 6-year-old me was right about goldfish crackers and being nice to animals. 

One of my favorite books I’ve read in the last year or so is Richard Rohr’s The Wisdom Pattern in which he posits that growth, wisdom, change, or revolution follows the pattern of an established order, a time of disorder or chaos, and then finally a new reordering. He frames this within the context of Christianity, but I think it’s applicable in so many ways to so many other things. I’ve often told my therapist that I feel like I’m in the chaos part of the cycle in my own life. I’ve used the analogy of a butterfly in its chrysalis– did you know that there’s a period of time where the caterpillar turns into straight-up GOO in there?! Like, it’s just hanging out in the chrysalis, being amorphous and gooey, until its body changes into a butterfly. 

My point being, I thought I’d be more butterfly than goo at this point in my life. I thought I would have a stronger sense of self. But maybe that’s the whole point– I had to realize that my sense of self wasn’t built on the most solid foundation before I could move forward with building an honest, clear sense of identity and purpose.

What I do know right now is that despite the shedding of my old self and things that brought me comfort, I like who I am. I like who I’m becoming. I don’t know who she is yet, but I like what I’m seeing so far. And for the first time in my life, I am confidently saying that I genuinely like myself. That is a deeply freeing thing in and of itself after a lifetime of uncertainty, a longing for belonging, and questioning my worth. Maybe I’m goo right now, and maybe I’ll always be goo, but there is peace in the chaos and knowing that there is still a meaningful, hopeful future ahead of me.

So yeah, hi, welcome to my blog. It’s mostly just me talking to myself, but I’m glad you’re here.