🦋 On Cocoons & Wings of Change
How names shape our stories and growth (Letter 229)
Aloha fellow learn-it-all 👋
Greetings from Grosse Pointe, Michigan!
It’s been fun walking these doggies each day. They’re always so joyous and grateful.
It’s felt familiar and unfamiliar living in this house I grew up in. I have my favorite Dutch cheese in the fridge, which I enjoy daily under a fried egg on top of toasty bread. At night, I watch Sci-fi romantic movies of dad’s choosing, nestled in a fuzzy blanket beside my mom with a purring cat on our laps. I get acquainted with seeing my artwork in my bedroom which somehow means more than it did at the time, but get frazzled as the kitchen is emptied to be renovated. Like I said, familiar and unfamiliar all at the same time.
Now, let’s dive into letter 229 from a learn-it-all. Enjoy!
❓Question to think about
What’s it like in metamorphosis?
🖊️Writing
Yesterday morning, I found a journal cover in my desk drawer that reads, “Change allows you to continue growing as you try on your wings.”
That idea has stuck with me as I’ve been reflecting on change—how it feels, happens, and shapes us.
Last week, I attended a wedding for a couple I introduced ten years ago at Miami University. The bride was my freshman college roommate, and she was the one who coined my college nickname “Jenny V.” Everyone in our Scott Hall called me that, and then their friends called me that. And so it goes. It spread far beyond that year, with even distant acquaintances in business frats and opposing swim teams remembering me by that name. At the wedding, I found myself in a strange moment of reintroducing myself as Jen, only for people to excitedly call me “Jenny V,” a name that holds much nostalgia.
It made me realize something—I’ve never really chosen my name. Without questioning it, I’ve let family and friends name me J, Jen, Jenny, or Jenny V. I’ve always felt that no harm was intended, so I let it slide. But names are influential. They define us, yet we often don’t get to choose the ones people remember us by.
This isn’t the first time I’ve thought about my name. I still vividly remember the second week of public high school. I was sitting in a spacious cold lab room on the second floor of the S Building in an Honors Biology classroom above my locker 3202 (whose com I still remember), sitting to the far right of the room in the second row behind Sydney, next to Mandy. Mrs. Roethenbuhler passed out quizzes except for mine. Confused, I waited until the end of class when she told me she wanted to make sure it was my quiz because I didn't write my last name. I was embarrassed. I had never written my last name before. Coming from a small Christian school where all my teachers knew me by my first name, let alone recognized my handwriting, that simple mistake exposed me. It was the first time I realized my name and identity were changing as I navigated this bigger world.
As I walked through Chicago last week, visiting old neighborhoods, those memories of who I used to be and my identity kept surfacing. I ran by my brother’s quaint old apartment on Elm that smelled like running shoes, the lake area off Ohio St where I open-water swam for the first time, the softball field where I prayed that no ball would hit my face while playing catcher, and the grassy patch where my roommate’s Shih Tzu Leo liked to tinkle. While biking the lakefront, I recalled the giddy laughter from my other roommate when we picnicked, and she popped bubbly on her 25th birthday. As the wind hit my face and my tear ducts leaked, I remembered the tears from the news of my New Year’s date ending our relationship. I retraced my old train route on the brown line from Sedgwick to Quincy— it was mostly empty and still so noisy. I walked to the Sears Tower, where I used to scan my key card for the 7th floor, and recognized the door and its wavy glass walls. Next to it, I passed the Starbucks, where Korn Ferry’s business partner Darryl introduced me to the medicine ball drink I still love. While taking the bus to the Cubs game, I saw the Sluggers bar, where I batted balls in a cage between beers, and the Old Crow bar, where I’d pretend to adore country music.
On a boat architecture tour, I noticed that the wavy 859-foot St. Regis aqua tower was completed, but besides that, it feels like it’s stayed the same in the past three years. Chicago hadn’t changed much, but I have. The nostalgia was thick, making me realize there was a gap between who I was then and who I am now.
This change feels like a metamorphosis. Like how a caterpillar enters a cocoon and transforms into a butterfly. The caterpillar doesn’t choose this—it simply happens. Our changes may not be as visible, but they are real, unfolding over time. It’s a gradual evolution, and though it’s sometimes hard to put into words, it’s exciting and a little scary.
Part of my personal evolution includes my name. In the future, I don’t know what exactly I’ll be called or who I’ll be. It’s exciting to imagine the new identity that will come with change, bringing me back to the importance of names. My Dutch great-grandparents, for example, had wanted a boy named Arnold, but when my grandmother was born, they named her Arnolda. She reinvented herself by going by Nolly and later decided I should call her Omi instead of Oma. That small act of creativity gave her name a new, fun meaning.
As I’ve been designing the book cover for my new book, I’ve been thinking about what name I should use. I’ve decided to put my full name, “Jennifer Vermet,” on the cover, even though it’s not a name I use daily. It feels like a declaration, honoring all the versions of myself that have grown and changed since my creation.
Change is inevitable. Whether it’s how we’re known by others, the places we leave behind, or the personal growth we can’t always see happening, change shapes us. Just like a caterpillar doesn’t choose its transformation, we can’t always predict how life will mold us. It’s happening constantly, often without our awareness, and that’s both exhilarating and terrifying.
So, as I step into this new phase away from Hawaii—embracing new names and shedding old ones—I invite you to reflect on the changes in your life. How have you evolved without realizing it? What names, identities, or memories have shaped your journey?
Here’s to all of us in the process of becoming and metamorphosing out of cocoons into butterflies again and again across our lives.
📜🖋 Poetry Corner
Shared from a beautiful tweet from my friend
, a poem by Rainer Maria Rilke :
🎧Listening
Scott Street by Phoebe Bridgers
In this song, that feels like a diary entry, Bridgers makes me feel like it’s okay to be lonely:
Walking Scott Street, feeling like a stranger
With an open heart, open container
I've got a stack of mail and a tall can
It's a shower beer, it's a payment planThere's helicopters over my head
Every night when I go to bed
Spending money and I earned it
When I'm lonely, that's when I'll burn itDo you feel ashamed
When you hear my name?I asked you, "How is your sister?
I heard she got her degree"
And I said, "That makes me feel old"
You said, "What does that make me?"
🐦 A nugget on loneliness
I found this resonant and validating from Sahil Bloom, originally shared on Twitter here.
🔍Word to define
cocoon | kəˈko͞on | noun
• a silky case spun by the larvae of many insects for protection in the pupal stage.
• something that envelops or surrounds, especially in a protective or comforting way
• a covering that prevents the corrosion of metal equipment.
🌟Quote to inspire
“Let everything happen to you: beauty and terror. Just keep going. No feeling is final. Don’t let yourself lose me.” — Rainer Maria Rilke
📸Photo of the Week
To the city I thought I’d live in for a long time, but I guess two years was long enough.
🙏Shoutouts
Shout out to anyone that lives in the LA area. Tiago Forté’s #SecondBrainSummit next week is sparking me to have an extended trip there for three weeks. I’d love to meet up and appreciate your recommendations on where to go and what to see.
I appreciate you reading this!
If ideas resonated, I’d love you to press the heart button, leave a comment, reply to this email, or reach me at vermetjl@gmail.com.
Keep on learning 😁
Mahalo 🌺
Jen
PS - in case you missed last week, I shared on the balance between ⚖️ Discipline or Grace?
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