Chrysallis

 On the worst day, it was the last day. If that seems like a Dickensian or Biblical beginning, this story does lend itself to something miraculous. 

It truly was the best of times, and the worst of times, although I did not know it at the time.

The day that I decided that I physically and emotionally could not take "it" anymore, whatever it was (some kind of existential matter I expect) was the day that "it" seemed to rear its head for the last time and then subside. 

The screaming was so loud that all 4 of our ears rang. They literally rang for hours afterwards. We both had to take post screaming pills.  The resistance was strong, the fighting raged, and the whining never ceased. I had forgotten what peace, and sleep looked or felt like in our house. And I was desperate.

Caterpillars, as you know, spend 14 days inside a little chrysallis they have made around themselves. Their bodies and brains are broken down whilst inside, and then reformed to create the body and the brain of something magical, wonderful, unfathomable. They are squashed inside this tiny, too small, hot, smelly, uncomfortable package for TWO WEEKS, while their beings are dying and then being reborn. imagine how grumpy you'd be in there. Then, finally, when they have changed into what they had always intended to be, their destiny, they burst out, free at last, into the fresh endless open air, spread their enormous wings, and fly. 

I parallel this completely with my Pickle. She goes through these chrysallis phases every so often, and although it's hell for us, and for her, I am just so relived when finally, triumphantly, she beeomes a butterfly. 

Thanks for reading x