If I were a caterpillar …

Caterpillar

I wish I could know I’m a caterpillar. I wish I knew that one day, I’ll look back on all this snot, tears, blubbering pain, on the destructive urges and suicidal impulses and be able to say: “Wow, that was hard! I was so limited then! But look at me now!”

I’d say: “See how I’ve spread my wings! See what a rich and varied life I live, now that I’m no longer so ill! Look at my shiny new career, my unscarred body! Measure my cortisol levels – see how unstressed I am? Evaluate me – see how I’m within the ‘normal’ range on every measure?”

Sadly, I don’t know I’m a caterpillar. I don’t have faith that all the hard work, tears and everything else will pay off in the end. I was being facetious when I spoke in my would-be butterfly voice above: I don’t expect that my life will ever be quite that perfect or easy, but it sure would be nice if I could believe in an improvement.

Right now I’m just staring down the barrel of day after day of hard slog, with no reward at the end of it.

I’m hardly even a caterpillar. At least that little fellow in the picture looks happy enough, munching away at his leaf. I’m just a … a slug: no shell to protect me, hiding in the dark, leaving a trail of mucous behind me, and with no prospect of turning into anything more beautiful.

 

12 Comments

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12 responses to “If I were a caterpillar …

  1. I promise, you ARE a caterpillar. We all are, and we don’t have to live like that our entire lives. It’s hard work, but there is definitely sunshine and joy on the other side of that struggle you are facing right now. I wanted to die so bad, for many years…and now, I am so glad that I finally decided that option was off the table and I’d best see about some other way to cope. After that decision, inpatient treatment, the right meds for me (we’re all different) and years of uncomfortable therapy, everything did shift. The past 20 years have been completely different for me, and I am certain they can be that way for you too. \Meanwhile, I send you healing hugs and love and Light across cyberspace.

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  2. Cal

    Even slug trails glitter in the sunlight. What you make, what you write, even while you’re so unhappy, is beautiful. Keep strong.

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  3. Ever think maybe you’re in the cocoon? πŸ™‚ Just a thought… but maybe you’re neither a caterpillar, nor a butterfly, but some in between rough stage of shedding, destruction, and then – finally – rebuilding.

    If the metaphor doesn’t help, find a new one. Find one that inspires you, because there is a shoe that’ll fit and uplift you. And as I say every time I comment on your posts – You are amazing just in the fact that you are here, and you wrote today. It still makes me smile and makes me feel strong seeing you here. Cause if you can do it, so can I. We can be better than this thing, and we will.

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    • Thank you. I may well be inside the cocoon – it’s certainly dark enough!!! Ho, ho.

      I have to work on remembering that we can be better than all this … it’s true. It’s TRUE! Attagirl! (Ok, maybe I overcompensated there πŸ˜‰ )

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  4. Maybe you don’t need to be a caterpillar. Maybe you’re already a butterfly but you just need to fly in another direction. Sorry, that was pretty lame of me to say. Hugs!

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    • Not lame at all. I always appreciate what you have to say. Thank you for thinking that shitty little me might be a butterfly πŸ™‚ sorry, but you know how it is when things seem very dark – it’s hard to accept a compliment!

      You’re right. I may indeed be a butterfly, flying in an interesting direction. Thank you. I have just had a long talk with the S.O. and seen one way I can turn around the “wrong” (for want of a better word) direction I’m flying in.

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