The Goo Stage

We're taught from a young age that caterpillars are very hungry. They eat their way through everything on the picnic table before wrapping themselves in a cocoon.

This may shock you, but it's not the whole story.

When they were younger, my kids would be quick to tell you that cocoons are for moths, and the butterflies' counterpart is actually called a chrysalis, but I digress…

Metamorphosis is complicated

There's a lot that happens during that rest period. Both moths and butterflies essentially digest themselves, and turn into goo before rebuilding their wings and bodies.

It was only a couple of years ago that I learned this. As kids, we learned all about the beginning and the end, but nobody seemed to mention the middle, where the growth actually happens.

No talk of the uncertainty, the perceived lack of safety, the total transformation happening beneath the surface, and the fact that you wouldn't recognize yourself during the process.

And no, I'm not talking about caterpillars anymore.

You want to, but you can't avoid it

Here's what I tell my clients when they're in their own goo stage—whether they're adopting a new sales methodology, shifting from product-focused to problem-focused selling, or building the discipline to professionally persist when prospecting feels uncomfortable.

It's a reminder that change is hard and results aren't immediate.

Whenever you learn something new, there's a period of accommodation that needs to happen. You don't just upload new skills like Neo in The Matrix.

Making learning stick requires behavioral change. Teams need new structures, and people need new habits. It's usually uncomfortable, and you need to be willing to lean in and stick with it if it's going to make an impact.

I remind them that sometimes growth is messy. The process isn't always indicative of the final form, and you may not recognize yourself in the meantime. But here's the thing—the results are worth it, and the end result is beautiful in ways you can't imagine right now.

Trust the process

You're going to feel lost in the middle. You're going to question if you're doing the right thing. You might even wonder if you've made a terrible mistake.

That's the goo talking.

First, remember why you started. This change was necessary. You believed the end result would be worth it, and nothing about that has changed—just your proximity to discomfort.

Second, trust your instincts. That voice in the back of your head that told you to pursue this? Listen to it. It won't do you wrong.

Finally, give yourself permission to be unrecognizable for a while. You're not supposed to look like the old you—that's the whole point. You're building something new, and that requires tearing down the old structure first.

The butterfly doesn't apologize for not being a caterpillar anymore. Neither should you.