Leaving the cocoon
I’ve had my eye on a patch of daffodils in my yard for the past few weeks. I monitored them as they rose from the snowy ground and began to wake up. The day before the equinox, I saw one with a bud on the verge of blooming. At any moment it would blossom into the little flower it was destined to be.
Every year I get a little grumpy about spring. It takes me awhile to adjust to the brighter, warmer days. I like the dark and don’t mind the cold. Winter is my time to get quiet, turn inward, cover myself in blankets and claim an unapologetically early bedtime.
Winter is my cocoon. It’s the season that slows me down, allows me to reflect and prepares me to emerge as the me I want to be.
I reflected on many things over the cold months, but the theme of “social energy” consistently rose to the top. Last fall, my schedule was packed with drinks, coffees, dinners, calls, zooms, walks…all VERY fun things that ultimately exhausted me. My social calendar became a source of dread rather than one of joy.
Why was I doing this? Even though I love my friends and value our connection, filling my social calendar was a great way to avoid responsibilities, plus pouring energy into others meant I didn’t have to do the uncomfortable work of digging into myself.
As the days turned darker and colder, I knew I needed to repurpose my social energy and redirect it toward myself and my goals. I built my cocoon and was protective about who I let in.
Was it hard? Yes. And also, no. It was hard because there were times I genuinely wanted to spend time with friends. But also, the more I said no, the easier it became. I got comfortable saying, “That sounds really fun, but I’m feeling depleted and need to prioritize time for myself. Rain check?”
Creating boundaries on my time and energy were part of my practice toward claiming my self-worth. My time and energy have value. Not everyone gets an all-access pass to Jenna.
Setting boundaries allowed me to focus on myself and my professional goals, plus it revealed which relationships were true priorities.
I’m thinking about my daffodil. For the past few months she’s been soaking up the nutrients, rest and information she needed to emerge as the blossom she was meant to become in this new season. I’ve been doing the same.
Which brings me back to my grumpiness about spring. I think my issue is that spring is a season for extroverts. There’s an expectation that because it’s finally nice out, I should somehow want to be outside doing things. With people. At places.
I’ve been in my cocoon the past few months, soaking everything up, and am proud to say I’m emerging as an antisocial butterfly. That’s the me I’m destined to be right now. I’m owning it. Also, technically butterflies make chrysalises and not cocoons, but whatever.
Let’s do some emerging:
What have you been soaking up over the winter months? In what ways, if any, does this affect how you emerge this spring?
Let’s pretend you’re a butterfly. You’ve been kickin it in your cocoon, cultivating traits and qualities to make you the most badass butterfly ever…how do you want people to describe you?
What is one thing creating clutter in your life? (this could be in your home, but also in your head). If that clutter didn’t exist, what would that freed-up space allow?
