The Wings We Cannot See

Not just seeing them, but truly watching them.

Watching how they move so effortlessly from flower to flower. Watching how their wings catch the sunlight. Watching how something so beautiful can seem so free.

As I sit here today surrounded by the sounds of nature, I find myself reflecting on my own journey. Not because I want to live in the past or spend my days replaying old memories. Not because I want to dwell on the pain, the heartbreak, or the struggles that once consumed me.

I look back because sometimes I need a reminder.

A reminder of where I started.

A reminder of what I survived.

A reminder of how far I have actually come.

The truth is, growth can be difficult to see when you're the one living it every day. When you're taking tiny steps forward, they often don't feel significant. Sometimes it feels like you're standing still. Sometimes it feels like everyone else is moving ahead while you're fighting battles nobody can see.

Yet when I think about healing, I think about a butterfly.

A butterfly's story doesn't begin with beautiful wings.

It begins as a caterpillar.

Slow.

Small.

Grounded.

The caterpillar spends its days crawling, eating, and preparing for something it cannot yet understand. It has no idea what it is becoming. It doesn't know that one day it will soar. It simply keeps moving forward, doing what it needs to do, one day at a time.

I think there have been many moments in my own life where I felt like that caterpillar.

Moments where all I could do was focus on making it through the day.

Moments where healing felt impossible.

Moments where I questioned whether all the hard work, all the tears, all the therapy sessions, all the setbacks, and all the effort would ever amount to anything.

There were days I felt completely broken.

Days when I wondered if I would ever recognize myself again.

Days when the voice inside my head was louder than the voice of hope.

Days when surviving felt like the only victory I could claim.

But then I remember something important about butterflies.

Before they get their wings, they enter the cocoon.

And from the outside, it doesn't look like much is happening.

The world sees stillness.

The world sees waiting.

The world sees nothing at all.

Yet inside, everything is changing.

Inside, transformation is taking place.

Inside, growth is happening in ways no one can see.

I think healing often looks like that.

People see the outside and assume they know the story.

They don't see the work happening beneath the surface.

They don't see the courage it takes to get out of bed some mornings.

They don't see the tears that fall when nobody is watching.

They don't see the strength it takes to choose recovery, choose healing, choose yourself over and over again.

They don't see the countless times you wanted to give up but didn't.

They don't see the battles you fight in silence.

They only see the finished product.

But those hidden moments matter.

In fact, they are where the real transformation happens.

There have been times during my journey when I felt frustrated by how long everything was taking.

I heard people say things like, "You should be over this by now."

"You need to move on."

"Why aren't you further along?"

Even when those words weren't spoken out loud, I felt them.

I carried them.

And if I'm honest, sometimes I said them to myself.

Sometimes I became my own harshest critic.

I measured my progress against other people's timelines.

I questioned my pace.

I doubted my growth.

I forgot that healing isn't something you can rush.

Growth doesn't happen on a schedule.

Transformation takes time.

A butterfly cannot force its wings to appear before they are ready.

And neither can we.

Every scar.

Every lesson.

Every setback.

Every victory.

Every moment of choosing to keep going when quitting felt easier.

All of it becomes part of who we are becoming.

Sometimes I wish I could see myself the way others see me.

Because there are days when all I can see are the places where I still need to grow.

The places where I still struggle.

The places where I still hurt.

Yet the people who love us often see something entirely different.

They see resilience.

They see courage.

They see strength.

They see growth.

They see wings forming long before we ever notice them ourselves.

Maybe that's one of the hardest parts of the journey to believe in our own transformation when we can't yet fully see it.

To trust that growth is happening.

To trust that healing is taking root.

To trust that all the effort matters.

Because it does.

Every step forward matters.

Every boundary matters.

Every tear matters.

Every brave decision matters.

Every day you choose to keep going matters.

Today, as I watch the butterflies drift through the wilderness, I am reminded that transformation is one of nature's greatest gifts.

The butterfly does not spend its life wishing it were still a caterpillar.

It does not carry shame for where it began.

It simply becomes what it was created to be.

Perhaps that is the lesson.

Not to look back with shame.

Not to look back with regret.

Not to define ourselves by our hardest seasons.

But to look back with compassion.

To honor the person who survived.

To thank the version of ourselves that refused to quit.

To recognize that every difficult chapter helped shape the wings we carry today.

Growth is not about becoming someone else.

It is about becoming more of who you truly are.

And while we may not always see our own wings, they are there.

They are built through perseverance.

Through healing.

Through hope.

Through choosing ourselves again and again.

The butterflies remind me that it is never too late to change.

Never too late to heal.

Never too late to grow.

Never too late to spread your wings.

And maybe the most beautiful part of the journey is realizing that you were never meant to stay a caterpillar forever.

You were always meant to fly.

"Self-love won't give you butterflies, but it will give you wings."

With Love,

Alizabeth