You can say you’re letting go and moving on, but one of the hardest things to let go of is that sense of identity. The new way of life is going to feel very unfamiliar. It really is like a caterpillar changing into a butterfly.
Sometimes it’s the pain that reminds us to stay on the new path. The old way is so obviously not wanted that we’re determined never to go back. Pain can be useful like that.
Of course, there comes a day when we realize that this is the path we’re supposed to be on, and no power on earth can keep us from it. I get glimpses of that feeling, like sunlight peeking through clouds. That’s when I see that this is a journey of the heart.
I talk to myself, and while that may be a strange thing to admit to the world, I’ve long since crossed that Rubicon. After all, I’m already talking to myself in my mind, whether I verbalize or not. Writing down my thoughts has helped, but some of the internal voices quite literally have a mind of their own, and the best thing I’ve done is to dialogue with them. These sub-personalities are not just the critical, fearful, or neurotic parts of me, but also the creative, loving, and wise parts. By speaking to them, I’ve gained a long sought-after sense of self and wholeness. I see that I’ve been searching for parts of myself “out there somewhere”, but really, what I needed to fill the void was within me all along. In my podcasts, I talked about being a refugee, a minority, an only child, and how I longed for belonging and companionship aka LOVE. Unfortunately, this neediness is a turn off and unattractive to others, and try as I might, I couldn’t just stop it, but over the years, as I’ve worked on self-improvement, I was laying the foundations for my autonomy and freedom. When I recently found myself in a crisis that involved the proverbial shit hitting the proverbial fan, I had to take a leap of faith which I’d been simultaneously anticipating and dreading for a while, but it’s so worth it to align with my True Self. It makes everything I’ve experienced have the meaning I’ve been looking for. I guess I’m born again, but this time as the real me. Of course, it takes nothing away from my caterpillar self. He was a necessary part of my journey, and still with me in some ways. I’ve strayed from the topic of talking to myself, which tends to happen when you have several conversations going on in your head at the same time.
image credits: Disney
It’s strange to think that six months have passed since my last post. Looking back, I not only believe in what I wrote, I’m more of an embodiment of those intentions.
People often use the analogy of the butterfly emerging from its cocoon — and I could compare the past several months to that — but maybe if the caterpillar had an ego, it would be writhing in psychological pain during the process. Perhaps our ego is like a caterpillar that (at some invisibly appointed time) must wall itself off from the world and become a Hanged Man. Then some kind of alchemy occurs — our insides and outsides become one — until we metamorphosize into what we always were in potential.