Borboleta

I am sitting in a café in Lisbon. It is Wednesday morning, and it is raining. The place is crowded. Everyone is working. Right in front of me, a Portuguese designer is discussing something with a client. I don’t understand a word. After years of travelling back and forth to this city, I am ashamed that I still don’t speak the language. If I really move here, I will learn. Promised.

Change happens so slowly. Sometimes I don’t understand myself. I wish I could shed my skin like a snake and step into a new form overnight. Like a chameleon that effortlessly adapts to its surroundings.

Instead, I feel like a caterpillar that has forgotten how to become a butterfly. Stuck in the in-between. Not quite a caterpillar anymore, but not yet a butterfly. Just a cocoon, waiting. Waiting for whatever is going to happen.

Change is in letting go. It is lifting the anchor, releasing the brakes. Progress comes from simply pressing the gas pedal a little harder. But real change, real transformation happens after surrender. Surrendering old stories, outdated identities, throwing away clothes that no longer fit. Before we can become, we have to create space. We have to lighten the load.

I think I know what I want. The dream. The vision. The butterfly.

I want to contribute to a world that is a little kinder. A world where listening is taught in schools just like math and science. Where deep conversations are as normal as small talk. Where we collectively support each other to express our fears and chase our dreams. A world that doesn’t just revolve around status and money, but around other forms of wealth. The wealth of feeling the grass beneath your feet, hearing the ocean, hugging a friend, the luxury of moving at a slower pace.

But right now, I still feel mostly like a caterpillar.

I work at a bank, helping to launch new tech products. It pays the bills. It is safe. It is stable. It is enjoyable. But sometimes, it feels so far removed from the dream. From flying.

And yet, I know I can’t, I won’t stay here forever. Not really. The process of transformation has already begun.

So why is this process so terrifying? Financially, of course. We all need to pay our rent. I need to pay rent. And the judging eyes of others. And because of the safe identity, I would be saying goodbye to. The caterpillar is accepted by society. The butterfly? I am not so sure.

But maybe it’s not society I fear. I am afraid of the opinions of those closest to me. The ones I know I can always come home to — my safe haven no matter how lost I am.

When I am choosing to try to fly — choosing a path that might confuse them, disappoint them, am I not stepping into unknown territory without a safety net? In chasing my dream, am I becoming an outsider to the people who have always been home?

Change isn’t about certainty. It is in moving forward even when we feel the fear, even when we feel the doubt. Testing the wings, trying to fly — succeeding, and crashing down. And maybe realizing that we were never truly alone.

I look up and smile. I remember that I know the Portuguese word for butterfly. Borboleta.

The process has already begun.