If you go to my website right now, you cannot see any reference to the work that I have been doing with entrepreneurs for the last six years.

You also would not know that I am still a practicing lawyer as Of Counsel at Morehous Legal Group where I serve small business clients.

I have worked for myself since 2015, but never quite sorted out how to fit all of the pieces of my work under one umbrella. And I stopped trying to force that issue a few years ago.

My recent newsletters have carried the thread of transformation . . . from the caterpillar turning into a pile of goo before it becomes a butterfly, to the discomfort that often comes before a leap.

Part of the evolution that I am in the middle of is the creation of a new brand to house portions of my work.

The butterfly is leaving the chrysalis, but my wings feel wet.

When we first step into unfamiliar territory, when we are expanding or growing or changing, when we have taken the leap, but not yet landed, things can feel fragile. And vulnerable.

I have been sharing vulnerably and authentically about my life and journey through the darkness of mental illness and the experience of healing for more than four years now.

But after my last few newsletters, I had a little bit of a vulnerability hangover. It caught me by surprise.

And as I have worked with a designer to develop a logo for this new brand, I found myself asking lots of people for their opinions.

Once I realized what I was doing, I was curious. Because usually, once I get clear on something, I don’t need other people to validate.

What was it about this experience that had me feeling insecure?

My wings are wet. I have emerged but I am not yet fully anchored in this new space. I feel excited but also a little ungrounded. The future feels hopeful, and new, and a little bit scary.

Sometimes it feels a lot scary as I shared in my last newsletter.

The experience of growth and transformation is complex. And while we like to show only the shiny and “successful” parts to the world, I also think we crave honesty and truth. And we are desperate to feel less alone in the murkier and mucky parts of the journey.

If you are emerging but still feeling fragile–much like I think so many of us have felt and perhaps still feel in the face of year three of the pandemic–be kind to yourself.

You aren’t doing it wrong if everything feels a little uncertain. If your confidence is shaky. If your wings feel wet.

Keep taking steps to support your tender nervous system that is waking up to new possibilities and new ways of being in the world.

And keep your grounding practices close by . . . a few deep breaths, a gentle walk outside, a cup of hot tea, barefoot in the grass . . . whatever helps you feel more firmly rooted in where you are now and where you are called to go
next.

I am right there with you.

Love,

Booth