Hello, Lovely, I’m so glad you’re here.
Can I ask — how have you been? Not the version you give when someone asks in passing. The real one. The one that lives just underneath the surface of your days, in the quiet moments before you fall asleep or the ones right after you wake up.
That one.
I ask because I think we’re all carrying more than we let on. And one of the things I love most about this little space we share is that you don’t have to perform okay or fake fine here. You can just be wherever you actually are. So — welcome. Pull up a chair. Let’s be in it together for a few minutes.
✦ PAUSE ✦
The chrysalis is real.
The last few weeks have been hard in the quiet way hard sometimes is — not dramatic, just heavy. The kind of weeks where you’re doing the work, moving through the messy middle of growth, trusting that something on the other side of the struggle is worth it.
We talk a lot about butterflies as symbols of transformation, and we should. But we don’t always talk about what it actually feels like inside the chrysalis — the not-knowing, the waiting, the slow and unglamorous process of being remade. I’ve been sitting with that. Paying attention to the present, even when the present is uncomfortable. Choosing to be here for it.
✦ SEE ✦
And then — yesterday happened.
As if on purpose. As if grace has a sense of humor.
I spent the afternoon at Franklin Park Conservatory with two of my dear friends — and one of them brought her daughters, nine and six years old. We called it Girl Gang Day. The five of us wandered through the butterfly exhibit together, the two little girls darting ahead of us, arms outstretched, trying to coax a wing to land. The flowers were extraordinary. The light was bright, yet soft. And I watched those sweet girlies move through that space like it had been made just for them — because on Girl Gang Day, it had. The girls said to their Mama, our friend – Auntie Maggie and Auntie Stacy are so nice.
And then I thought about the past several months, and the time I’ve gotten to spend with my boyfriend’s three-year-old niece. She is all energy, joy, giggles and has absolute certainty about who she loves. She loves me. She tells her parents. She talks about me when I’m not there. And I love and adore her.
Driving home, I said out loud to my boyfriend: every girl needs an Aunt.
✦ BREATHE ✦
To a little girl, an Aunt is magic. She’s the one who kneels down to your level, looks you in the eye, and makes you feel like the most fascinating person in the room. She gives the best hugs — the kind that are warm and long and unhurried, the kind that make a little girl’s whole body say I am safe, I am loved, I am home. She takes you somewhere beautiful and lets you run ahead. She doesn’t rush you. She watches you chase butterflies with her whole heart and thinks — there she is.
There’s my girl.
To a young woman finding her footing, an Aunt is a lifeline. She’s the one you call when you don’t know what to do, when the world feels too big and you feel too small. She doesn’t panic. She doesn’t lecture. She just says — I’ve got you. Tell me everything. She sees who you’re becoming before you can see it yourself, and she calls it out of you like she’s known it all along.
And then somewhere in your thirties and forties, something shifts. The Aunt becomes a companion. A co-conspirator. She’s the one riding shotgun with the windows down and the music up, singing at the top of her lungs without apology. She’s the one who orders dessert with you, who laughs until it hurts, who knows your whole story and loves you anyway — not despite the hard parts, but including them.
An Aunt is not trying to fix you. She’s not trying to raise you or redirect you or manage you. She is simply, fiercely, joyfully for you. She roots for you in the quiet and she celebrates you out loud. She will go to battle on your behalf and hold your hand when you screw up — and she will never, not once, make you feel like you are too much.
That is what it means to be delighted in. And every woman — at six, at twenty-six, at forty-six — deserves someone who delights in her.
✦ GROW ✦
We get to be the women they remember.
We are the encouragers and the truth tellers. We are the I’ll go to battle for you and the I’ll hold your hand when you screw up. We are the giggle instigators, the ones who make ordinary afternoons feel like a gift.
The little girls in our lives are watching us. Not just their mothers. All of us. They are chasing butterflies, asking questions, learning what it means to be a woman in this world — and we are part of that answer.
You don’t have to have a title. You don’t have to show up every week. You just have to show up — with your whole, unhurried self — and let her know: I see you. I’m rooting for you. You are worth chasing butterflies with.
Be the Aunt.
A GENTLE QUESTION TO SIT WITH…
Who was an Aunt to you – and whose life might be quietly changed because you decided to be one?
With Big Hugs, So Much Love, and a Butterfly or Two,
Stacy
Stacy Bergman
Founder and Head Coach, Brisalo
Always Rooting For You!
Brisalo Coaching & Wedding Services
Brisalo exists to help women stop performing for others and start trusting themselves. You’re receiving this because you signed up for The Gentle Pause. To unsubscribe please respond to this message and you will be removed, no questions asked.
Local Services: Columbus, Ohio + Global Services
March 29, 2026 | Brisalo | The Gentle Pause — Issue 07, 2026
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