Becoming the Butterfly: Why do we fear the transition?

For anyone caught in the in-between.

With balloons, celebrations, and the promise of a brighter future, college graduates would expect to be thrown into a euphoric, whimsical, adulthood. One filled with a luxurious career in a New York City skyscraper, a closet full of beautiful clothes bought with our “adult money”, and friends that are just as close, and just as easy to keep as the ones we see in our favorite 20 something shows like Sex and the City, New Girl, and Girls.

What most of us get instead is what I’ve been calling the waiting room, the 20 something purgatory, and recently, the cocoon.

Maybe you’re in between cities. Maybe you’re pursuing another degree. Maybe you’re landing your first corporate job, or leaving it to start your own business. Maybe you have no idea what you want to do. Maybe you thought you did, but as the job rejections started to flood your inbox that used to be full of campus announcements and invitations you decided to settle for what was available. Maybe you’ve got it all figured out on paper, but feel like you’ve outgrown the person you used to be. Maybe you’re taking it day by day.

Luckily, if this transition is hard for you, you can breathe a sigh of relief. Seriously, it’s way more human to feel uncomfortable when things are falling apart. It’s normal to be angry and frustrated at the unknown, but unfortunately it doesn’t make it go away.

I was so sure for months that I wasn’t experiencing the waves of this change crash into me. I said goodbye to my college friends, professors, and organizations without shedding a tear. I decided to move away from my entire support system and go across the country to pursue my masters degree. Still, no tears.

I even traveled across the world to speak on a panel in Türkiye and you guessed it, eyes dry as a desert. Come to think of it, I think I spent the better part of 8 months unable to cry (unless I was laughing) because of how genuinely content I was with how my senior year played out.

It wasn’t until I spent a day working from home, struggling to send a simple email that it all came crashing down. I felt it, and I felt it hard. Suddenly, everything I missed about my college routine, friendships, and lifestyle overwhelmed me– even though I didn’t want to go back. I thought about the future too, of all the things that scared me, like higher bills, finding community in a new city, and getting serious about my routines and habits. I knew that I didn’t belong there yet either. And no matter how many times my friends, family, and strangers on the internet told me I wasn’t alone, it didn’t make it any less lonely.

So I did what I always do when I’m overwhelmed, and picked up a shift at my restaurant job.

Hours later after a long night shift, while I was washing my hair, I thought about change. How I’ve always had a problem with it and why. I’m sure some quote I thought of, during some point in my existential shower sparked it but suddenly, a metaphor came to mind that made everything made sense.

Even butterflies need to go through a dark, isolating time before they spread their wings and fly. They aren’t caterpillars, but they haven’t become butterflies yet. They’re in a dark, lonely cocoon. Remarkably, it's exactly how it feels being a young adult.

You aren’t an undergraduate student anymore, so you don’t have the naivete and irresponsible streak you did when you were 19. And you certainly can’t spend four days without any sleep partying, taking exams, and working doubles without some sort of consequence. On the flip side, the thought of getting engaged, paying a mortgage, and “settling down” is equally as nauseating.

You’re becoming the butterfly, but first, you’re in the cocoon. That’s why it feels lonely, scary, and sometimes it forces the covers over your head as you doom-scroll a perfectly good day away.

Even though this might be the way you’re feeling now, it doesn’t have to be. Which is why I’m starting a new series where I’ll be covering everything from outgrowing friendships, to navigating budgeting, balancing work and rest, and figuring out what comes next. More importantly, being okay with not knowing the answers, and riding the waves of young adulthood.

If we ever hope to get out of the dirt, and spread our wings, we first need to be willing to enter the dark, slimy, lonely cocoon, and see who we can become when we surrender to the changes.

Then patiently, gracefully, we can become the butterfly.