That, perhaps, is the difference between a crisis and a chrysalis. One keeps us frozen in fear. The other slowly reshapes us.
Technically, I’m not even fully in my midlife years yet.
And yet my body arrived early to the party.
A complete hysterectomy fast-tracked me into conversations I thought I still had years to prepare for.
Ironically, some circles don’t allow me in to the conversation because I’m “far too young” to know what menopause is.
It seems my reproductive system retired before society was emotionally prepared to handle it. Medically, I pass the test but I always get ID’d at the door.
I was medically launched into menopause with all the glamorous perks.
Hot flashes. Joint pain. An increasingly fragile relationship with sleep. And the deeply humbling realization that apparently your underarms and mid range can become flabby despite hours of working out at the gym.
(Nothing prepares you for sneezing incorrectly in your 40s.)
My body has adopted the classic expired warranty strategy, catastrophic synchronized failure. I’ve entered the ‘everything squeaks, leaks, or spasms unexpectedly’ chapter of ownership. My body has moved beyond ‘minor repairs’ and into ‘have you considered replacing the whole unit?’ territory.
Which is why a phrase I recently heard on the podcast Hello Menopause! grabbed my attention.
“Midlife chrysalis.”
Not midlife crisis. Midlife chrysalis.
The episode featured Chip Conley talking about reinvention, and I chose to listen to this episode because crisis sounds like collapse. Losing control. Becoming less.
Like panic bangs and plans to live “off-grid” and taking up emotional support hobbies. Sourdough starter anyone?
But chrysalis?
That sounds like transformation.
Messy. Strange. Hidden. Uncomfortable. Necessary.
A chrysalis says. You are not falling apart. You are simply changing form.
I think many of us who have experienced chronic illness, disability, grief, loss, burnout, etc. arrive at this transformation long before the culture expects us to.
Some of us are forced into reinvention before we even finish becoming who we thought we would be.
The Crisis
Be patient toward all that is unsolved in your heart.
Sometimes crayon. When I need a little more whimsy in my days.
There were years where survival became the main objective. Years where my nervous system felt like a shaken vending machine full of stress hormones. Years where I thought resilience meant pushing harder instead of listening deeper.
And then came the hysterectomy.
One of those dividing-line experiences where life becomes Before and After.
Before, I still secretly believed if I tried hard enough I might someday return to the old version of myself.
After, I slowly began realizing there may not be a way back. Emotional landslides and experiential cave-ins had blocked that passage way.
Forward and through became my only options. Through self-realizations. Humbling concessions. Constant negotiations between mind and body.
And maybe that is where the chrysalis begins.
The Chrysalis
And the day came when the risk to remain tight in a bud was more painful than the risk it took to blossom.
A chrysalis does not look impressive from the outside.
It looks still. Inactive. Even broken down.
But inside? An extraordinary reorganization is happening.
And I think that’s what midlife (or medically-induced midlife-adjacent existentialism) can become.
Not a crisis to survive. But a transformation to participate in. Whole-heartedly.
Chip Conley talked about how the first half of life is often about accumulation.
We gather. Relationships. Responsibilities. Possessions. Roles. Expectations. Obligations. Dreams that once fit.
And eventually we become emotionally overstuffed.
He described midlife as “a great midlife edit.”
As I listened I considered the fact that chronic illness forces the edit whether you volunteer readily or not.
You simply cannot carry everything forever when your body already feels like it’s carrying a weighted backpack full of loose cutlery.
At some point you must ask important questions.
What still fits?
What actually matters?
What has become lukewarm in my life?
Do you know what a lukewarm life looks like? One of the lines from the podcast,
Pouring out part of your tea allows you to pour some hot new tea into the cup.
Because some things are not meant to last forever. Not every friendship. Not every role. Not every expectation you once had for yourself.
And maybe releasing those things is not failure. Maybe it’s pruning.
The forest understands this better than we do.
The Forest
One of the reasons forest therapy has become so meaningful to me is because the forest never panics about transformation.
Forest therapy has taught me that stillness is not the same thing as stagnation. Sometimes what appears dormant is actually becoming. I wrote more about that in this post, Nourish Your Nervous System: Forest Therapy Insights
Deadfall becomes nourishment. Burned places grow new life. Trees release entire branches to survive harsh seasons. These changes that seem negative are essential to a healthy forest.
Humans also require those experiences that appear negative and are actually essential for a healthy life.
In the forest, decay and renewal, soft and hard, smooth and sharp are all happening simultaneously.
And honestly, that feels like midlife too.
Especially for those of us living in bodies that have known pain.
We have experienced days where tears of pain rolled down the left cheek while tears of joy rolled down the right.
We know how to hold grief and gratitude at the same time.
That depth changes a person.
We know what it is to laugh in waiting rooms. To find beauty in tiny victories. To feel gratitude and grief sharing the same chair.
I have learned that emotional pain cannot simply be numbed away the same way physical pain can. There is no ibuprofen for identity loss. No heating pad for disappointment. No prescription for becoming someone new.
And while suffering itself is not noble, I do think deep experiences deepen people.
My chronic comrades know this.
Pain can also make people bitter, stuck, isolated, hardened.
That, perhaps, is the difference between a crisis and a chrysalis. One keeps us frozen in fear. The other slowly reshapes us.
If we allow ourselves to learn from it. We can become more compassionate. Tender. Wise. Present. Better able to sit beside someone else’s suffering without looking away.
As they said in the podcast,
Our painful life lessons are the raw material for our future wisdom.
I believe that in my soul.
The Offering
Sometimes our culture subtly teaches that the people worth listening to are the successful ones. The polished ones. The credentialed ones. The endlessly productive ones
What can we do about this imbalance? If you ever deem somebody less than you… ask yourself what they can teach you.
Because some of the wisest people I know have had their lives interrupted.
Some had to abandon dreams they loved. Some never got the education they were capable of and deserved. Some are rebuilding lives with parts and pieces they never would have chosen.
And still. They carry wisdom.
Do not think less of yourself because your life required adaptation. You are not behind because your path bent unexpectedly.
Some of us have earned emotional depth the hard way.
And if you cannot live the exact life you once pictured?
Find something to run toward anyway.
Even if your pace looks different now. Even if you have to limp toward it some days. Even if your dream has changed shape entirely.
A chrysalis does not become what it originally was.
That is the whole point!
A Forest Therapy Invitation: Chrysalis Walk
The next time you’re in a forest, park, or tree-lined path, try this:
Walk slowly and notice signs of transition.
What is decomposing?
What is emerging?
What is shedding?
What is adapting?
What still carries beauty despite visible damage?
Then ask yourself:
What version of myself am I grieving?
What no longer fits?
What wants to emerge now?
What if this season is transformation instead of failure?
You do not need immediate answers.
The forest is always becoming new. Slowly. Over time.
The Question
One question from the podcast we can all ask ourselves,
Ten years from now, what will I regret if I don’t learn or do now?
Conley called anticipated regret a form of wisdom. Chronic illness teaches you that later is not guaranteed. Perfect timing is imaginary. And someday can become never surprisingly fast.
So maybe this chapter is not about trying to reclaim who we once were.
Maybe it is about becoming more fully ourselves.
Hot flashes. Heating pads. Existential growth. And all.
What the caterpillar calls the end of the world, the master calls a butterfly.
A great hope fell. You heard no noise. The ruin was within.
-Emily Dickinson
The purpose of this post is to encourage you. Do not enter the new year with those words of Emily Dickinson as your guide. It can be easy to over shoot in our plans for the celebration of this night. Followed shortly thereafter by overwhelm at the thought of executing our way through the year itself.
I posted the following on Instagram this week. As taught by Jack Cornfield. If you aren’t connected to me there, look me up @sunbeamacres. The pictures are from one of my more recent forest therapy walks.
Author Kristin Neff said,
We hold ourselves to unrealistic standards of perfection and then we judge ourselves when we don’t live up to them. The thing is, we aren’t supposed to be perfect. But we are supposed to transform.
Are New Year’s Resolutions For You?
Goals are great. But they don’t have to start at the beginning of the year. And when January 3rd comes around and you missed a day, it is not the end. You can actually try again. And here’s the kicker, you don’t even have to feel bad about it!
Shocking, I know
It can be overwhelming at this time of year to hear everyone talking about their resolutions. Especially if that isn’t your thing. (It does not have to be your thing, shh it’s a secret! Don’t upset the status quo.)
IF you are a goal setter. And IF you find renewed strength to try again at the beginning of the year, I applaud you. The rest of us will be over here attempting not to be intimidated and feel bad about ourselves around you.
We will just keep doing our best.
But where to start?
Suzuki Roshi said,
The most important thing is remembering the most important thing.
How do you know what your most important thing is? It will be different for you than for others. And it will change at various seasons of your life.
Intention
The word intention has become muddled in recent years. But if you think of it as where the compass of your heart is pointing. What is your intention for this year?
We get to decide. We get to set where the compass points. But what will be most transforming for us is to follow those glimpses and glimmers our heart is giving us. I suggest this is what lines us up to our true north. Set your compass to your true north for exponential transformation.
Mindful like a… Sniper?
If you were to sit mindfully to consider your upcoming year. What thoughts and ideas would you be open to find? Which brings up another muddle-y word of late. Mindful.
To be mindful is to be present, to see things clearly. But if that alone was the criteria then snipers would be the world’s most mindful people. If you were to picture a mindful retreat, are snipers the central figures? It confused AI. This picture would not generate without all the guns being pointed at one another.
Oooooohm. Does the process know we are trusting it?
To be mindful then, we are attempting to see clearly. AND we need to know why we are being mindful. There needs to be purpose. Your purpose at this time might be setting your intentions for the year. AND finally, we need to be aware of how we are paying attention. Is it with attitude? Or judgment? Pause to consider how that difference would affect your ability to be mindful. And in tune to the intention of your heart.
To put this all together. To define mindfulness. It is intentionally paying attention in a kind and open way.
Join me in intentionally paying attention. In a kind and open way. As we decide where the compass of our individual heart is pointing. To combat any New Year overwhelm.
A New Pattern to Transformation
I also suggest a new pattern, Instead of goal, success, success, fail, success, fail, give up. How about, Rhythm. Rest. Renewal, Restoration.
Your rhythm is your own. Are you familiar with your rhythm? It is your tempo. Your beat. Your movement. One must sit still, alone, long enough to sense their own rhythm. Where are you going too fast? Where do you need a more consistent pace? Find your rhythm. Sense it. Protect it.
Rest is healing. Rest is right. Rest is not lazy. Rest is not wasteful. Rest is often the most profitable thing you can do for your body and your soul. Rest is when growth happens. When you go to the gym and push your muscles. The fibers of those muscles sustain damage or injury. AFTER the workout, the body repairs those fibers by fusing them which increases the mass and size of the muscles. When we seek higher learning. We push our minds to take in and retain information. It feels like the information is going to start leaking out of our ears. There is hardly time to sleep. But in getting less sleep the ability to take in information is more challenging. In resting comes growth and renewal.
Renewal is to replenish. To make effective for an additional period. What if we take time to rest and are made more effective for an additional period? Instead of pushing ourselves to the brink and then resting. I am still learning how to do this myself. I have to keep going back to my rhythm. Not feeling pushed to match the rhythm of others around me. At this time of renewal of glad tidings. Of goals. Of generosity. Take time for renewal of yourself.
Restoration. To bring back into existence. To bring back to a former state of health, soundness or vigor. There are days I need to be brought back into existence. This can happen at the end of a long day or sadly, the very beginning. While my desire to have my former state of health is considerable. I will take any amount or form of restoration that comes from this pattern.
In a Nutshell
Set your goals within reach. Do not strive for perfection. Seek instead for transformation. Find YOUR most important thing. Sit mindfully to set the compass of your heart to know where and how the transformation can take place. Have your new pattern for this year be rhythm, rest, renewal, restoration. Find and protect your rhythm. Enjoy and seek rest. Recognize the renewal that opens to restoration. Rinse and repeat.
Chronic Comrades
My sweet broken- feeling chronic comrades. Chronic mental and physical illness, chronic pain, chronic fatigue. The following verse makes my heart both melt into it because somebody is speaking to my soul. While at the same time it cringes for what we have suffered.
Maybe one intention for the year would be to make peace with our “monsters”.
every night she sings lullabies to her burdens and fears because that's what has to be done. the monsters have to fall asleep before she can. -JmStorm
Know you are seen and understood comrades. Then work to diagnose and soothe your “monsters”-physical and mental, seen and unseen. In any way that works for you. Forest therapy is among the tools in your toolbox.
Crushing it…
My greatest intentions for the year will be in this forest therapy business. Stay tuned to see my rates, days & times, 6 wk starter packs, subscription boxes, etc. I am excited to finish developing and start sharing with all of you for the spring.
Take care my friends. I sincerely hope it is a Happy New Year.
SUNBEAM ACRES 