I’ve spent the last 6-8 weeks riding waves of emotions that have turned me inside out, exposing my inner seams. Some are frayed, some are unraveling, some are loosening, others are bursting, but yet still others somehow remain stitched tightly woven together, holding me back from completely spilling out and over onto everything I touch. I’m frustrated. I’m relieved. I am both angst and peace. I am joy and stress bounding and striding in rhythm with the same heartbeat. My blood pumps feverishly hot through my veins, but my thoughts drag along in the cold sludge of my brain. Yesterday I was yes and breaking open, arching my back and thrusting my chest in the sunlight of all things new. Today I am no and folding inward, shrinking back, giving life to fear with the doubts that flow from my lips in ragged whispers. I can’t go back to where and who I was, yet I’m slipping and fumbling with each step forward and into the me and life awaiting embodiment. I am tiptoeing my way along the cusp of my greatest triumphs and current failures, looking for a break along the way to press myself in and abide. Sometimes this what breaking through is-navigating the time in between as it refines you for your life’s work and purpose. This is my metamorphic moment.