My Metamorphosis

My Dear Intuitive Friends,

Surprise! Guess who's back? Back again? Me! This blog has experienced a year of silence. I know they say silence speaks volumes, but I realize you are not all mind readers (thank God), so, let me tell you what has been on my mind.

I was thinking today about butterflies. Have you ever seen their cocoons before they emerge? I have. 

In 2002, I went on vacation to Belize and stayed with my friend Tina at Francis Ford Coppola’s Blancaneaux Lodge on the top of a mountain in the middles of a vast jungle. Tina and I went on many adventures including swimming in a waterfall, riding horses through the jungle, and a boat ride through a Guatemalan cave. We also went for a tour of a Green Hills Butterfly Ranch near the resort. There, I found myself surrounded by so many beautiful butterflies, and so many cocoons with those yet to awaken. Some landed on me, others swirled in a majestic rainbow of color around us. I was in awe. I found out that they spend in fact, most of their life in silence before they emerge in all their beautiful colorful glory, gracing the world with their inspiring presence.

The metamorphosis that butterflies experience, is very silent process and it requires great patience. But in the end—in the end it is worth it.

Like the butterfly, I too have been in the cocoon dear readers, undergoing a metamorphosis. I have been through many transformations in my lifetime, but none of them quite like this.

So much was happening in my life in the past year, and there were so many big feelings that I have never experienced before. I was silent at least when it came to this blog until I knew how to talk about it.

Recently, I was watching the Netflix movie, “Goodbye June,” because I saw Kate Winslet, who directed, produced, and starred in it, speak on 60 Minutes. “Goodbye June,” is poignant and emotional, and it is exactly the trigger that I needed. I sat on my couch, tears streaking down both cheeks, and found that I couldn’t stop.

Finally knew what I had to say. I’ve been experiencing a spiritual metamorphosis this past year. I was living my life and writing about healing, dating, travelling, and then my mom. My mom’s health conditions, and her care, became the very center of my life. It caused me to go through a cascade of changes, necessary changes, in terms of my values, my priorities. It also forced me to “clean house” and rid myself anything negative and draining people, places, and things so that I could build up strength for the days ahead of me.

Looking back to last February, I realize that up to that point I was many things before in my life: a writer, a mom, a wife, an ex-wife, a teacher, a sister, a friend, a traveler, a recovering alcoholic, a person who is striving to overcome a rare autoimmune illness that is hard to pronounce and almost literally took my breath and life away. But the one thing I never was until this past year?

A caretaker. 

I have become, along with my older sister, a caretaker for my mom. My mom has congestive heart failure and it’s official, she has Dementia.

I realize that I am not talking about it, because it is hard to talk about, to live it, let alone to write about it. But staying silent is selfish. 

I am not the only one in America or in this world, or in the history of the world to be a caretaker. And by no means, not the only one who has a loved one facing Dementia or other neurological disorders. I am a writer though. So, I shall try to do my best to speak to you from my heart. To invite you into my world to acknowledge or witness my transformation.

I knew something was going to happen to me last winter, but I didn’t realize I was about to go into a metaphorical cocoon. I remember vividly, driving one Saturday to see my mom in the first rehab she stayed at in Lewes after her fall in upstate New York. It was part of my daily, sometimes twice daily, route, in addition to my full-time job as a mom and a full-time, remote IT professional.

I was driving slowly down New Road in Lewes, with a 1,002 things on my mind: did I bring her the right coffee for Mom? Do I have her sweet and low and did I remember to label all her clean clothes with her name? And Jesus, did I close the garage door? Will I make it to my son’s all state performance and then have time to visit her once more today?  I needed to see her as much as possible before going out of town soon to upstate New York to help my sister clear out my family home for my mom.

So, yes, I was overwhelmed. 

And at that exact moment, there before me I saw a beautiful Great Egret emerge from the marsh on the right side of the road and fly over the road right in front of my car only to land on the marsh on the other side of the creek. I slowed the car to drink in the scene. It took me out of my head and back into the present moment in a moment of splendor. I didn’t take a picture, but I know what I saw; because I saw a similar looking bird in 2024 at Chincoteague and I will include a picture of it in this blog.

I had to pull over and breathe for a second afterwards. The Great Egret was just so beautiful, and I had never seen one from below it before: its gracing long legs gliding in the air; its wide, wondrous, white wings, gracefully drifting above me. Such a different perspective and a magnificent sight to behold.

I can’t explain it, but I knew it meant something. That bird looked the same, but what he or she was going to a totally different place. Even though it was just across the street, while he or she appeared the same, everything around that bird would be different. I felt like that Great Egret in that moment.

That week, my mother had a “family meeting” to talk about her care plan. I had my sister on speaker phone from Boston. During the meeting, I expressed concern at my mom’s legs; they looked too swollen. But we finished the meeting – agreed that my mom was regaining strength and even able to walk with assistance down the hall again. Her mind, however, was not always the same. We wondered if it was delirium from being in first a hospital and then a rehab in another state. Or maybe the side effect of a medicine. Regardless, a week or so later, I was in my hometown of Vestal, NY, meeting my sister to clean out my mother’s house, my childhood home. Our intent was to gather the things my mother needed and prepare the house to sell. Mom’s doctors and nurses all agreed: she would never be able to live alone again.

The first night I told my sister and my youngest niece that I felt like something was going to happen and that they would have to come down to Delaware to see mom soon. She “is stable” they reassured me, “we won’t see her until it is time for her to stay with us for three months.”

The next morning, we were about to face an arduous task: cleaning out my mom’s home that we had grown up in and getting rid of the decades of papers, items, trash, and she had hoarded. I will talk about that next blog. Cleaning that home and what followed was step one of my metamorphosis. I will also explain how a phone call I received from my son that weekend, confirmed my intuition and took me on the next stage of my journey.

Much love to you all. It feels good to write again. Even if only 10 of you read it, I feel good being heard!

Love,

Jenn

Songs I listened to while writing this blog:

"Changes," by David Bowie

"Time for Me to Fly," by REO Speedwagon

"Keep Ya Head up," by TuPac

"Redemption Song," by Bob Marley & The Wailers