What if the messy middle is where we grow?
I’m navigating multiple transitions at once, both personal and professional. I wouldn’t necessarily recommend it. The timing wasn’t mine to choose, and I’m still finding my way through the uncertainty and newness. But lately, I’ve started to lean towards the messy middle is not something to simply endure, but rather it might be where some of our most important growth happens.
Change can feel hard, messy, and scary. When we begin to see a little light, it can also feel exciting. I keep thinking about the transformation from caterpillar to butterfly. A caterpillar is alive, functioning, eating, and growing—with no awareness that it can become something entirely different. Are you picturing The Very Hungry Caterpillar eating his way through all that delicious food yet?
Then comes the part we rarely see. Inside the darkness of a cocoon, the caterpillar’s familiar form breaks down and reorganizes into something new. Human transformation can feel that way, too—private, disorienting, and isolating. We often see someone only after they have emerged, not while they are finding their way through the dark.
Eventually, we see the butterfly—beautiful, visible, and in motion. We admire it as it moves from flower to flower, but we rarely stop to think about what had to happen before it could fly.
That unseen part of change also reminds me of my daughter when she was younger. Transitions were hard for her, so I learned to give plenty of notice before it was time to leave the park: five minutes, two minutes, one minute. Those warnings didn’t eliminate the inevitable “No, I don’t want to go home!” But they gave her time to prepare for what was coming. Maybe adults need that same kind of grace—even when life gives us no warning at all.
Transitions can be lowercase “h” hard or capital “H” Hard. Either way, they ask something of us. The messy, dark phase may be temporary, but moving through it still requires courage, honesty, and a willingness to face some things head-on. I don’t expect to emerge fully ready to fly. For now, learning to trust my new wings feels like meaningful progress. Maybe growth isn’t about becoming a beautiful, thriving butterfly overnight. Maybe it begins with believing we will fly again. And shhh…please don’t remind me about the lifespan of a butterfly.
I’m especially grateful for the people who have stood beside me through this messy, dark season. They have reminded me of who I am, cheered for who I am becoming, and helped me trust that I will fly again.
If you’re in a transition right now, remember that your wings may still be taking shape. What is helping you move through the messy middle and who is helping you believe you will fly again?
