Awakening in the Chrysalis:
When the Old Ways No Longer Hold
Perhaps you’re not falling apart.
Perhaps you are awakening within the chrysalis.
Tom had spent most of his life succeeding.
He excelled at work. Friends trusted him. He was dependable, hardworking, and respected. He had built a successful life and was beginning to imagine sharing his future with someone he loved.
From the outside, everything appeared to be working.
Yet something felt off.
Nothing was wrong.
But nothing felt entirely real either.
The harder he worked, the more a quiet question followed him:
Why doesn’t this feel like enough?
He couldn’t explain it.
He only knew that something no longer fit.
The strategies that had carried him through life seemed to be losing their grip.
He felt unsettled.
And for the first time in his life, he couldn’t solve the feeling by working harder.
Many of us arrive at awakening believing something has gone wrong.
The goals we pursued no longer satisfy us.
The identities we carefully built begin to feel constricting.
The ways we have always navigated life no longer seem to work.
Something shifts inside us.
Something shifts around us.
And our first instinct is often to fix it.
To work harder.
To figure it out.
To push through.
But what if the discomfort is not a problem to solve?
What if it is an invitation to listen?
Most of us did not become who we are by accident.
We learned.
We adapted.
We responded to the conditions around us.
Some of us learned to achieve.
Some learned to please.
Some learned to stay invisible.
Some learned to take care of everyone else.
Some learned to control.
Some learned to perform.
Beneath all of these adaptations was something deeply human:
the desire to be safe,
the desire to belong,
the desire to be loved.
These are not flaws.
They are understandable responses to being human in a world where love, approval, belonging, and safety often felt uncertain.
Conditional love trains external orientation.
We learn to look outside ourselves for signals of safety.
We become highly skilled at reading other people.
Their moods.
Their reactions.
Their approval.
Their disappointment.
What begins as survival often becomes increasingly sophisticated over time.
Achievement.
Perfectionism.
Caretaking.
Invisibility.
Control.
The forms may differ, but the longing beneath them is often the same:
to feel safe,
to feel loved,
to know we belong.
For some people, these abilities eventually become gifts.
For others, they begin to feel constricting or disconnecting. What once helped us feel safe may eventually leave us feeling far from who we truly are.
But they often begin as survival.
Tom realized this one day during a coaching conversation.
“I’ve spent my whole life reading other people,” he said.
He laughed nervously.
“It feels weird trying to read you.”
I smiled.
“I wasn’t trying to read you,” I said.
“I was seeing you.”
Something shifted in the room.
Neither of us knew it then, but Tom was awakening.
A few moments later he sat quietly and looked down.
“I’ve worked so hard since I was a kid,” he said. “Baseball. School. Work. Solving problems. Taking care of things. Trying to do everything right.”
I nodded.
“Along the way, you’ve developed a lot of abilities and strengths,” I said. “You care deeply. You work hard. You notice what others need. You know how to solve problems. These aren’t flaws or mistakes.”
He listened quietly.
“I sense you’ve tried very hard for very good reasons,” I continued. “You adapted to whatever was happening around you. In that process, you learned to focus on what was happening outside of you. Somewhere along the way, you lost sight of what was happening inside of you.”
Tears gathered in his eyes.
“You became someone you thought you needed to be so that you would know you were okay.”
He looked at me for a long moment.
“This process you’re beginning to feel now,” I said gently, “is about coming home to yourself.”
Over time, our adaptations can become so familiar that we mistake them for who we are.
But they were never evidence that we were lost.
They were evidence that we were trying.
Trying to survive.
Trying to belong.
Trying to receive love.
Trying to protect something precious within ourselves.
They were ways of holding ourselves together until something deeper could emerge.
Eventually, however, something begins to shift.
The old ways no longer hold.
The achievements no longer satisfy.
The approval no longer feels like enough.
The roles no longer fit.
The strategies that once protected us begin to feel exhausting.
We may feel confused.
Restless.
Disillusioned.
Afraid.
This is often the moment we believe something is wrong.
Yet this may be the very beginning of awakening.
Not because we suddenly know who we are.
But because we begin to recognize what we are not.
The chrysalis is not comfortable.
The caterpillar dissolves before the butterfly emerges.
The old form falls away before the new one becomes visible.
There is a period where clarity has not yet arrived.
A period where trust is asked of us before understanding.
A period where we are invited to stop gripping so tightly to what no longer fits.
Awakening is not the collapse of who we are.
It is the recognition of what we are not.
It is not self-rejection.
It is self-discovery.
It is not escaping our lived experience.
It is consciously participating within it.
Perhaps the discomfort you are feeling is not simply something to survive.
Perhaps life is communicating.
Perhaps something within you is trying to be heard.
Perhaps what once helped you survive is now inviting you to thrive.
And perhaps the first glimpse of light appears the moment we stop trying to force an answer and begin listening for the invitation.
Because life itself may be an ongoing invitation into conscious, intentional participatory co-creation.
And awakening may begin the moment we notice that invitation.
Reflection
As you move through your days, notice your reactions and choices that feel more forced than natural.
Notice the moments when you find yourself editing, modifying, or reshaping yourself to meet expectations or accommodate the needs of others.
Notice the times you feel less authentic.
There is no need to change anything yet.
No need to criticize, judge, or fix yourself.
Simply notice with kindness, compassion, and curiosity.
What in your life feels more like a version of who you learned to be than an expression of who you truly are?
This resonated deeply. What struck me was how many times the word “trying” appeared — trying to survive, trying to belong, trying to be loved, trying to hold ourselves together. There is such heaviness in all that trying.
Sometimes the shift begins when we stop forcing an answer and simply become open to what wants to emerge. This is such a beautiful reflection on awakening as an invitation to listen.
"Awakening is not the collapse of who we are. It is the recognition of what we are not."
Oof. That landed.
Thank you for such a compassionate perspective on growth, change, and becoming.
I originally came across the third piece first and immediately knew I needed to go back and read the series from the beginning. Looking forward to the rest.