Maybe it is Time to Molt

I was speaking to someone recently who is very close to my heart. He was experiencing some pretty intense feelings and old stories. In our conversation, we hit upon the metaphor of an insect molting.

An insect molts when it outgrows its protective skin. The shell that once kept it safe becomes too tight and restrictive. At some point, what once felt like protection becomes the very thing holding it back.

The same is true for many of us emotionally.

What if our anxieties and fears are not signs that something is wrong with us? What if we can see them as beacons signaling that we’re brushing up against the edge of an old protective layer?

What if the racing heart, the tight chest, and the wave of unease are invitations to a new freedom?

But we often miss or turn down the invitation.

Instead of turning toward the feelings, we recoil. We tighten up.

We retreat to our intellectual safety zone and get to work figuring out what we are feeling and why. We believe that nailing down the cause will make these feelings go away and stay away.

We analyze, and spin repeatedlv…believing that just one more lap around the mental racetrack will produce a victory over these unwanted feelings.

We cling desperately to the shell that no longer fits us, convinced it’s the only thing keeping us safe.

Often we feel trapped.

The irony is that in trying to preserve what once protected us, we end up prolonging our suffering.

Imagine if the insect refused to molt. Imagine it gripping its old skin with all its tiny might. What would happen? Natural growth would stop.

And yet that’s what so many of us do. We hold onto old defenses, outdated strategies, and tired stories about ourselves. Because they once made sense. Because letting go feels terrifying.

But the feelings themselves are not what is causing the distress - it is the resistance to them.

Instead of turning away, we can turn toward the feeling and look right at it, breathe with it, and stay present with it. We can see its true nature. We can discover that it is not a wall, but an opening. Not a punishment, but a signal. Not a monster, but an invitation.

When we see clearly, the old layer loosens. We don’t have to rip it off. It falls away on its own. And what’s left is space. Room to grow. Room to breathe. Room to live a larger life.

So the next time anxiety or fear arises, maybe ask yourself: What if this isn’t a problem to solve, but an invitation to look and let go?

Growth doesn’t happen by tightening around the old. It happens by opening to the present.

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I am Dave.

I help people discover peace in the presence of pain and anxiety, calm in the presence of upset, and compassion in the presence of anger.

You do not have to struggle or improve to be happy.

Are you ready to grow?

Reach out.