Becoming a butterfly is no small thing. You spend so much time in the cocoon—growing, changing, waiting. And then one day, you emerge. You stretch your wings, feel the lightness of your own becoming, and take flight.
People notice. They see your strength, your beauty, your ability to move with ease. And then, little by little, they begin to place things on your wings. You can handle this. You’re strong. You’re a butterfly, after all.
At first, you agree. Yes, I can carry this. Yes, I can take on more. And for a while, you do. Until you start to feel it—the weight pressing down, pulling you toward the ground, making you wonder if you were ever meant to fly at all.
But here’s the thing about transformation: It’s not about proving how much you can hold. It’s about knowing what allows you to keep soaring. Some weight is needed—it strengthens your wings, teaches you resilience. But too much, too soon, and you risk being pulled back into the cocoon you worked so hard to break free from.
Part of staying a butterfly is learning when to release. To say no, this is not mine to carry. To trust that lightness is not weakness. And to practice flying with the strength you have now, so that when you are ready—when your wings have steadied, when you have found your rhythm—you can take on more without losing yourself in the weight of it.
What are you carrying that is no longer yours? Where can you practice steadiness before adding more?
