Inside a Chrysalis

Although fascinating to me, the process by which a caterpillar turned into a butterfly was one I largely romanticised. Ever since the days of tracing through the eating habits of the Very Hungry Caterpillar as he wrapped himself into a cocoon for a few weeks before emerging as a fully-fledged butterfly, I have imagined the process as one that is passive. Like a cosy hibernation. A quiet drifting off to sleep while the wings sprout, and the legs come. To emerge a new being, without so much as feeling it.

It was much more recently I learnt the truth of the process. That as it wraps up in that chrysalis the caterpillar must digest everything that it is. A process that releases the enzymes to dissolve itself. That at this point there is no sleeping caterpillar inside a cosy cocoon, but everything it once was has now become an unrecognisable liquid. The only part to survive this process are the cells that will grow to be the wings and body of the butterfly. A part of the caterpillar that has waited for this moment, nudging to feel this time. The digested liquid it is now is, feed the growth of these cells, so it can become the butterfly it was always meant to be. Little remaining in the new stage but maybe part of the nervous system can still remember what was learned before this process, as a caterpillar, but the outside is completely changed.

I never knew it was so messy. A complete degeneration of what once was. A destruction from which there is no going back, no turning round, no coming back out as the caterpillar. A breaking down, with only some parts, the essence, able to survive the process, and thrive and grow because of what was destroyed.

I have been through the process many times.

I am emerging now.

The difference for me is that there is no outward transformation. There is no climbing out as a butterfly for all to admire and to know I will never do this transformation again. Yes, people around can perceive the change. But the butterfly wings right now are hidden to all but the self.

There is also no pupa to hide in while the changes take place. As the metamorphosis happens, there is still life to do. There is the daily care of eating and washing, the bills that need to be paid, and the work that needs to be done.

I have often been doing those as my insides feel like that mush of the transformation of the caterpillar.

Do the caterpillars know what they are becoming? Of course not. The gift of the pre-frontal cortex gives humans the beauty of dreams and awareness and plans for the future. However, the addition of anxiety and self-awareness can be like a burden at times. I have sat surrounded by the sloppy soup of who I thought I was and what I was doing and felt hopeless in that chrysalis.