Cocoons are ForReals

Is cocoon and chrysalis the same?

What is the difference between a pupa, chrysalis and a cocoon? ... While pupa can refer to this naked stage in either a butterfly or moth, chrysalis is strictly used for the butterfly pupa. A cocoon is the silk casing that a moth caterpillar spins around it before it turns into a pupa.

Since I would consider myself to be closer to a moth than a butterfly, I would like to tell you about my cocoon.

I’ve been encased in it for a year and a half now, ever since my wife asked for a divorce and then left. I have been living in this tight ecosystem very, very carefully. There is very little room for error, if any. The rebuilding, or rebirth, of my earthly soul is happening in this delicate encasement of protection. I must move carefully, whether in haste or in serious consideration. My life, the quality and happiness of my life, depends on it. Carefulness, caution, serious consideration of actions and inactions are all taking place within my cocoon.

I’ve used the time wisely. I was able to depart from a 25 year career in the restaurant industry on the precipice of the Covid 19 tidal wave that decimated the industry in 2020. I took a job in the Continuing Care Retirement industry. At the time this was a daunting endeavor. Nursing homes were a soft target for the carnivorous pandemic. I didn’t care. I realized I was in a precarious position in regard to the divorce. There didn’t seem to be a chance of me ending up with the family house with a waiter job, especially with the pandemic broadening and casting a dubious shadow over the hospitality industry. When I accepted the job, I was asked if I wanted to wait for a couple of weeks to see if the pandemic was progressing or subsiding. I chose to start immediately. Something deep inside me told me to go and don’t look back. If I didn’t end up with the house I was going to gradually, tragically, slip away from the kids little by little. That was the last thing I wanted to happen.

I jumped into that new job feet first and hit the ground running. I worked my tail off and much to my ex’s surprise, I landed a mortgage and refinanced our home into my home. Well, my home and the kids’ home. They wouldn’t have to grudgingly visit me on the shady side of town living in a sketchy apartment building adjacent to the train tracks and power station at the end of the lane where the seedy woods begin. We now had our home. Their home. The one they were born into and grew up in. This was the biggest, and best, development that occurred within the past year and a half of our separation. This happened in my cocoon, with all the care in the world that I could muster up. I made sure all the ‘t’s’ were crossed, all the ’i’s’ dotted. Great credit, continuous employment, paperwork and deadlines. There really wasn’t any room for a misstep. The cocoon protected me. Shuttered and cautious, my main focus was the house and the kids. With a will to live a happy life knowing who I am and who I am not, I lived my life one day at a time. How can I make myself better, was and still is my mantra.

When it comes to the glass being half full or half empty, I’m a half full kinda guy. Inside my cocoon I wrestle with depression and self-doubt. The glass is half full, I remind myself. Not half empty. The depression consists of ghost clouding my judgement. Ghosts that make me second guess my job security. Ghosts that cast a doom and gloom forecast in my mind if I were to lose my job. Ghosts that turn my ample alone time at the house into loneliness. Ghosts that convince me that I’m too old for the women I am attracted to. Ghosts that play the con game of the morning’s dawn, Go back to sleep~it’s not good.

I feel as if the time is near for my emergence from my sheltering cocoon. To say sheltering chrysalis would sound more lovely and noble, but again, I feel more moth than butterfly. I am amazed at the moths that venture on to my front porch in the summer and sometimes make their way into the house. They’re quite stunning in a cool, down to earth, working man’s lunch-pail kinda way. For the most part, they’re not spectacular like most butterflies but they are overlooked and underappreciated in their seemingly mundane elegance. Like me, moths need a closer look-see, a more scrutinized inspection to register the grandeur that is. Like me, they cling to the house and stay, not venturing off. I enjoy them because of their ceaseless variety and their thirst for the light.

My emergence will come with human contact. The human touch. I am starting to yearn for it. A romance. Not just sex. Companionship, close, intimate, and sensual. Not asking too much, am I? My eyes are everywhere in that regard.

However, I don’t want to end up like a spinning top out of control. I don’t want callous encounters and messy breakups, so I’m keeping my attractions close to the vest. I don’t want to embarrass myself either. I have found, what I believe to be, mutual attraction with someone I work with. I think about her a lot, especially as I turn out the night light. I wonder if she thinks of me as I do her, or if at all. I wonder, greatly, because of the age gap, if I’m delusional. I try to compartmentalize all of my romantic thoughts. Are they obsessions? Fantasies? Or just the garden variety infatuations?

I truly don’t know. But I’m taking everything slowly. A cocoon is a protective shield but it can be fragile itself.

She greeted me with an exuberant wave and a sincere, friendly smile when we saw each other this morning at work.

I may be delusional. I may be reading into something that just isn’t possible. Or…or, things could get real. Like real real. ForReals.