You're a Badass Butterfly at Every Stage of Life

Pursuing Transformation When You're Not Sure What You Want or If You're Allowed to Change

When I was a little girl I dwelled in a near-complete state of certainty about what my future would look like.

I was laser-focused on getting out of Ohio and moving to New York City. Unfortunately I had to wait through seventeen tornado seasons before I could emerge as my true self and fly the heck away. But I didn’t think too far beyond that goal, so it made things appear simple. Just get there.

Si jamais ! (If only!) Well, I did get there, first leaving Ohio with a globe-trotting magician I may have already mentioned, then returning briefly to save up money and pack up my dreams. One hot summer day, I pulled into Manhattan in a yellow taxi with a steamer trunk my mom had bought me and my heart beating out of my chest.

My mom and me in NYC, somewhere around 1988

Fun Fact: I still have that trunk nearly thirty-five years later, its hand-written label still detailing my destination: Katharine House, West 13th Street, Manhattan. It was one of the few things I brought with me when I moved to France in 2022. Now it’s only used for stocking little worthless treasures from the Very Fun Early Adventures of an American Girl. It’s kind of my portable Room of One’s Own, I suppose.

It's a bit hard to see, but that's the trunk, underneath the glass cabinet.

The point is, though, after I got there, to New York, nothing at all became immediately clear except for that I might not have enough money to eat and that I was definitely not the prettiest nor most compelling nor most talented person in any room I entered. This existential shift from a place of obsessed clarity to one of complete uncertainty was devastating to me. OK, I got here. Now what?

Have you ever felt the same? After achieving a goal you thought would define your success? Upon learning that your best plans and intentions didn’t turn out as you’d envisioned? Or even just at a moment when it dawns on you that, well, you want something different? Have you ever felt that kind of inner quaking where you only want to f-ing figure it all out, right damn now instead of waiting for life to unfold?

This year, my second in France, is serving me up all kinds of that type of sentiment. In picking up my whole life to move to France for love, I knew I’d have to reinvent my career. No big deal, right?

I have always been a happy risk-taker, confident that I can generally land on my feet. And I’ve always been lucky to find opportunities tucked here and there waiting for me to activate them, to give them attention and intention, and to pursue the ones that spark something real in me. As a creative and an entrepreneur, it’s been the only way I’ve been able to work—I have to spot something shiny of spirit that makes me want to dig in deep and learn and grow and become better at it and then to hopefully add something of my own, to contribute, to share.

But as we evolve in our careers and our expertise, it’s funny how we can feel both hemmed in by the cocoon-like layers of what we’ve already spent years creating (families, resumés, products, client lists, research, reputations, programs, profits, portfolios—whatever!) and at the same time a little (or a lot) stifled or stymied by what and how we would do something different if we could. It can feel like we’re tangled up in the stickiness of it all, and that we can’t get free without cutting it all to shreds.

Butterflies are solid #goals for self-transformation. They know when to be patient and when it’s time to break the f*** out

Personally, I’ve struggled a lot with black-and-white thinking—you know when you either gotta do this or you gotta do that and you can’t have both, don’t be ridiculous. This intellectual (or emotional) failing is tough for me to admit because my true interests are so varied and in my heart I actually don’t believe we need to limit ourselves. It’s just that there’s this nagging inner Whoever (I named mine “Bitchie”) who needs to shut up and let us pursue the fullest expression of what fulfillment means to us. Can I get an Amen?

For the last few decades I’ve been pretty clear on what I wanted to do at any given time, but moving to a completely new country with its new culture, new language, new ways of just being…it’s been more challenging than I originally anticipated. Of course, even if you move across the world to work for a company who is helping you with your transition, it’s not easy. But navigating solo in the work world can have an extra-isolating effect. Of course Monsieur B is a great help to me in all things, but as he himself would say, Je ne sais rien du tout du metier d’entrepreneur. (I don’t know anything about being an entrepreneur.)

The first year here in France was mostly just pinching myself. What? I live in Paris! I’m married! The second year became more about really installing myself and feeling less like a giddy game show winner and more like someone who lived here but couldn’t seem to get a French driving license to save her life. And now, I feel very focused on figuring out what I’m going to Do next, which always leads to the adjacent question. Qu’est-ce que je veux faire ? What do I want to do?

Most of the questions I ask myself around my future work involve whether or not I want that future work to involve my past work. When you have a long history of successfully working at something or as something, it may seem like a no-brainer, especially to those who view what you do from the outside. Just keep doing more of that, right?

But this moment feels to me a much bigger opportunity—and one I’m really grateful to have—to rethink things, to imagine other possibilities. It’s likely the combination of feeling “new” in France, along with the ending of several big projects that wrapped up recently, leaving all kinds of space and time.

But the uncertainty and inner roilings are real. I tried for a few months to motivate myself into thinking about things practically. You know, why don’t you do this? It would be easy. Sadly, Bitchie wasn’t having any of that, and this time, I was inclined to listen to her because I had a feeling she was trying to point me toward something fascinating if less safe.

So I’m trying a new approach, which I’ve dubbed “active curiosity” because that sounds better than just “screwing around.”

I’ve decided to give myself this year to do one dream project (writing a new book; more on that later) and to focus on learning through a variety of outlets—courses, workshops and just deeper dives where things look interesting.

Bref, je me suis rendu compte (In short, I realized): Before I can really create something meaningful in France, I need to spend a bit more time in my new chrysalis, observing and absorbing, just trying to understand how it all works so I can emerge ready to fly—and to feel—a part of my new world.

Yesterday over a three-hour lunch in a fantastic vegan restaurant in St. Honoré, one of my good friends here (she’s a Canadian who’s lived in Paris for a number of years) said something helpful.

“Don’t put yourself on a North American timeline.”

She was talking about my book project, but I took it further to mean that I shouldn’t assign an imaginary hard-stop success date to my search for something as important as where I want to spend my creative energy for the next period of my life. That energy and the intention behind it are both precious to me. And you know what? It takes how long it takes.

But adopting the “actively curious” approach to discovering is very different than simply waiting around for something to happen. I believe strongly that when you are gently stirring up waves of possibility, opportunities begin to flow all around you. So it’s a daily practice of both eagerness and patience, of opening the mind and heart, of asking questions, of peeking around corners, of wandering here and there, and of listening carefully to yourself and to how you feel.

If you’re in a transition right now, big or small, maybe tell your Bitchie, tais-toi ! (be quiet) and then go ahead and stir things up a little. I’m sending you lots of active curiosity and big butterfly vibes for your next colorful, winged chapter!

Bises,

Karen

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