I used to love butterflies. My childhood best friend is still a certified bug girl, and she taught me about milkweed, a standard fuel for caterpillars. It grew against the side of my house, so I constantly watched the incredible transformation process.
I followed one caterpillar in particular into its transformation into a butterfly. I had one of those plastic containers with a blue lid, my mini terrarium of life. But something was wrong when the butterfly finally broke free from its cocoon.
It wasn’t flying. At all.
I kept wishing for it to fly, but nothing seemed like it was working. I put it on my finger, hoping it would take off. It would just sit there, slightly wriggling around. There would be a slight fluttering of its wings and then no movement.
Even though it was past my 8:30 bedtime, I sat on our wooden deck wrapped in my Curious George fleece blanket in the cool fall night. All by myself, I sang to my newly transformed friend, talked to it and encouraged it to fly away.
But still, nothing.
My parents thought the butterfly was on its deathbed. They made me bring it inside and wanted me to go to bed. I don’t remember how or why, but I remember sitting on my couch after being shooed inside. It sat on my finger, and I wished once again for it to fly. And suddenly, in a blur of fiery orange, it fluttered across the room at an incredible speed.
Even with the newfound encouragement of my butterfly’s flight, I was still forced to go to bed. Immediately the next morning, I was back on my deck, cheering on my little friend.
It finally and suddenly soared away for the last time my own eyes would see. It was a release that combined a bittersweet mix of emotions.
Life is unexpected, confusing and messy. Right now, in this stage of life, I feel like a seven-year-old me again, sitting in the crisp air of a fall night, waiting for my butterfly to fly away. I do not know what comes next and desperately need a glimpse of hope for the future. I am trying to nurture my dreams back to life after severe burnout from my over-commitments. Not much has come to fruition in the ways that I hoped. If you are in this boat, I encourage you to lean on the advice of the people around you and rest from your work.
Go to bed, go off campus, or take a load off. We are young, and even if we were not, our life would not be fulfilling without the energy needed to enjoy our time. Sometimes a rest from your problems does not mean sleeping, either. It could mean letting your responsibilities rest. Last weekend, I escaped to my hometown for a less than 24-hour concert trip, thrifted with my friends as soon as I got back and then went to Kings Island the next day. It was incredibly freeing to let go of all of my outside stressors and live a little. I immediately feel better going into my week because I took my time recharging, so that I am ready for what is to come.
There is time and space for rest, even when you feel a sense of urgency and despair. Healing happens through rest. You do your best work when your soul is rejuvenated and energized by something you love.
Get out of the Asbury bubble. Find a wake-up call, a taste of what life truly can be. Seek it out, and you will find that life is more fulfilling and palatable when you return. Solutions come easier with perspective and breaks from the situation at hand. Hope is not lost. You may only need to save the take-off for the morning.
