I’ve spent this last year as I have many others: chasing happiness.
In places. In people.
In fleeting moments of adventure or validation.
Trying my hardest to fix and force relationships, environments, jobs, my own self-perception.
At first, when I was looking back on this past year, I really couldn’t help but focus on all of the failures.
Trips that didn’t go according to plan.
Relationships that fell apart.
All the goals that went unmet.
So much time seemingly wasted.
I told myself that this year would be different.
And on December 30th of last year, I moved to a Caribbean island.
So that I could start the year in a warm and beautiful environment.
Full of hope of a life of adventure and spontaneity and fun.
The kind of unpredictability and chaos I used to crave.
I imagined the island would be where everything would fall into place.
Where I would leave behind the cold of winter.
The shame I felt around being unemployed and living in my parents’ house in Baltimore.
And just the weight of my depression and overall dissatisfaction with my life.
But shortly after I landed—or honestly, maybe even before I left—I realized that island life was just not the best option for where I’m at in my life right now.
The pace on the island felt chaotic.
And the constant noise and lack of structure quickly started to wear on me.
If I had been there on vacation, it might have felt different.
But the idea of living like this while trying to stay disciplined and get sober and heal myself filled me with anxiety.
I know myself, and it would have been far too easy for me to get caught up in the world of indifference.
Island life has this unique ability to suck you in and make it very easy to continue to numb your feelings rather than face them.
So after being there for just one day, on January 1st, I decided I had to leave, and bought a plane ticket to Miami.
I thought buying that ticket would fill me with guilt.
That starting yet another year feeling like a failure—wasting money and changing my mind yet again—would be too much to bear.
But to my surprise, leaving didn’t feel like a retreat.
It felt like an act of trust.
Trusting that by stepping away from what no longer feels aligned, that I’d be making room for what does.
Lao Tzu allegedly once said:
What the caterpillar calls the end, the rest of the world calls a butterfly. 🦋
Meaning that what we often see as failure, or the end of the world, is really just a shedding of old skin.
A necessary step in the transformation process.
But when you’re the caterpillar, stuck in the cocoon, unraveling…
It doesn’t exactly feel transformative.
Transformation really only makes sense in hindsight.
In the moment, it can be so hard to see beyond the struggle.
What I normally would have perceived as failures now feel more like guidance.
Subtle nudges pushing me towards a deeper understanding of what really brings fulfillment.
I’ve always known that true fulfillment comes from within, not from anything outside of yourself.
But knowing that and actually living it are two very different things.
It’s one thing to understand a concept intellectually, ut overcoming the habitual patterns, fears, and distractions that keep you stuck in old ways of being…
That’s something else entirely.
The hardest part is rarely learning what to do- it’s unlearning.
And retraining the deeply ingrained habits and mindsets that have been reinforced time and time again.
Keeping you from doing what you know is right.
I now know that my time there was not wasted.
Just as I know that this past year hasn’t been wasted.
It’s been clarifying, in a way only experience can be.
I needed to go through everything I’ve gone through to reach this level of understanding.
If I hadn’t gone, I’d have carried around this lingering “what if.”
Clinging to some fantasy that happiness could be found in some idyllic tropical escape.
Alan Watts once said:
You are under no obligation to be the same person you were five minutes ago.
And that’s the beauty of being human.
We have the ability to pivot- to change direction.
To start again really, whenever we want.
I bought my plane ticket to Miami with that quote in mind.
I don’t feel like me choosing to leave after being there for just a couple of days is in any way an admission of failure.
Rather, I feel like it’s an act of self-awareness.
Why waste time staying and trying to force something to work yet again, if I know in my gut that it’s not where I’m supposed to be?
I’ve come to realize that what I truly want is structure, routine, and most of all- peace.
So this year, I have resolved to stop wasting time.
I am ready to face myself.
To just sit in my uncomfortable little cocoon.
And face all the feelings I’ve been trying to avoid.
Just as the caterpillar dissolves into chaos before becoming a butterfly,
We too must endure the discomfort of confronting our truths.
Learning to sit with all the unease that accompanies self-awareness, shedding old skins, and trusting the process,
So that we can emerge as new and brighter versions of ourselves.
What the caterpillar calls the end, I call the beginning.
Thank you for being here,
— Grace
