Embracing the Butterflies

Here in SW Ontario, it would appear that spring has finally sprung. At the very least, spring is making a valiant effort to keep winter in its place (you know, behind us for this year) and burst forth in all its glory. 

When I think of spring, I think of new birth, gentle breezes, rain (there’s always rain), green grass, trees beginning to bud, and beautiful spring flowers: hyacinths, crocuses, tulips – I do love tulips. I also think of animals and insects waking and coming alive. And butterflies – for some reason I always associate butterflies with spring, even though they are around all summer too. 

This past week, I have had numerous opportunities to reflect on butterflies, both of the actual and the metaphorical variety. It’s the latter that I want to write about a bit today. Why? Because I notice that so many folks think of the metaphorical butterflies – the ones that we associate with nervousness – as a bad thing.

“Oh, no! I’ve got butterflies!”. 

“I’m so nervous, I’ve got butterflies in my tummy.”

“I wish these butterflies would go away.”

“These butterflies make me want to throw up.”

You get the idea.

In several of my recent coaching interactions, I’ve noticed a way that butterflies – nerves – are held as undesirable. A lot of time and effort seems to go into getting rid of the nerves, dismissing the butterflies, and somehow equating their presence with imminent failure. I actually heard one person say “when I’m nervous it means I’m not confident.”

Um, no. That’s not what nerves mean. Or, perhaps more accurately, it doesn’t HAVE to mean that. 

There may be truth in the notion that you aren’t confident in the scenario at hand. In my experience, however, being nervous – having the butterflies – isn’t really about confidence. It’s about how much skin you have in the game. It’s about what’s at stake. It’s about knowing that whatever is about to transpire, matters to you. 

Most performers, speakers, athletes – pick a demographic – get nervous before an event. It doesn’t matter what the event is. It doesn’t matter whether or not they’ve done it before. In every circumstance, there’s the presence of nervousness. When you hold that nervousness as a bad thing, you set yourself up to fail, or at least, to fall short in some way. 

Luckily, there is another way to be with the butterflies. You could actually embrace them. Notice them, and let them be. 

Don’t judge them.

Don’t make them wrong.

Don’t try to dismiss them.

Take them for the cue that they are, and heed their message, which is this: whatever you’re about to engage in is important to you. And knowing that this is important to you, that this matters in some way, you can give yourself permission to stand in that truth. In other words, the butterflies are nothing more and nothing less than a reminder that whatever you’re about to engage in? There’s something at stake. 

Once you start to see butterflies from this perspective, you can start asking different questions. Instead of, “what’s wrong with me” or words to that effect, you can ask one of the following:

What exactly is important to me about this?

What is at stake here?

Or, my very favourite: what do I need to be honest about right now?

Any of these questions will help you to connect and ground within yourself. And the question about honesty can point you to what you need to say – and to whom – just to quiet the butterflies. Remember, it’s not about getting rid of them. It’s about embracing them and letting them inform you, so that you can show up fully and authentically, with whatever is true in the moment. 

Folks, your nerves are not bad. They are important. From where I stand, and in my experience, if you don’t ever experience butterflies? You’re not as invested and engaged in the world around you as you could be. It may be time to turn up the dial a bit. Start embracing the butterflies. Let yourself know and honour what matters.