Once Upon a Time, I Was a Snail

I love snails—tiny, slimy, and oddly adorable. There’s something about their slow, deliberate pace that has always fascinated me. In many ways, my life mirrored that pace for the longest time.

My early high school years were filled with excitement and rapid change. I was wide-eyed, curious, and constantly on the move. But the middle years? They felt heavier. Slower. Full of unexpected detours—challenges, hurdles, and the hormonal rollercoaster of pre-menopause, menopause, and yes, peri-menopause. (Does it ever end?) But even the tiniest steps I took during that time held meaning.

Snails carry their homes on their backs. Their most recognizable feature is that beautiful, spiraled shell—a shield from predators and harsh environments.

Speaking of shells… I had the coolest invisible one. No one knew about it. It was my secret.

I always wore a smile, always projected calm, like I had it all under control. I remember once when a relative asked, “How are you smiling and staying so calm with everything going on?” I nodded wisely, shell firmly in place, smile fixed, and said, “I’ve got it under control.”
Yeah, right!

The truth? Inside that shell, I was learning. Healing. Growing. It didn’t look like much from the outside, but a lot was happening underneath. That slow pace was my survival. It was my becoming.

Today, I’ve shed that old shell. My steps are lighter. There’s a bounce in my rhythm and a new energy that flows through me. But I still carry the lessons from those slow, quiet years—lessons in patience, persistence, and the quiet beauty of moving at your own pace.

Yes, once upon a time, I was a snail. And I’m so grateful I was.

“Nature does not hurry, yet everything is accomplished.”

— Lao Tzu