The caterpillar eggs under your leaves: What my cauliflowers taught me about hidden sabotage

The day I realised something was eating my dreams (And I’d been helping it)

I was standing in my patio garden, absurdly proud of my cauliflower plants, when my stepfather Barclay pointed to the leaves.

“See those yellow dots?”

I squinted. Barely visible specks peppered the underside of the leaves.

“Caterpillar eggs,” he said calmly. “If you don’t remove them, your plants will be gone in a day.”

My stomach dropped.

I had been celebrating the increased butterfly activity in my garden. Turns out, I’d been cheering on the very thing that would destroy everything I was trying to grow.

That moment, staring at those tiny yellow dots, changed how I think about personal growth, coaching, and why smart, capable people still struggle to flourish.

Let me explain what I mean.

From Pot Gang to life lessons: How a beginner’s garden became my greatest teacher

Six months ago, I planted a few seeds from a Pot Gang subscription. Nothing fancy, just trying something new.

Today? My patio looks like a mini market garden. Veg Trug overflowing. Tomatos climbing. Cauliflowers spreading. I’ve somehow become the person who checks on her plants before her emails.

I expected to learn about soil and watering schedules. I didn’t expect gardening to become a masterclass in human psychology.

But here’s what happened: Every problem in my garden revealed a pattern I see constantly in coaching. Every solution I discovered for my vegetables applies to the people sitting across from me, wondering why their lives aren’t flourishing despite all their effort.

The caterpillar eggs were just the beginning.

The things hiding under your leaves (that everyone else can see)

Here’s what made the caterpillar egg moment so jarring: I had looked at those leaves dozens of times. I never saw the threat.

My stepfather spotted it in seconds.

This is the exact dynamic that happens in coaching and why even the most self-aware people need outside perspective.

You cannot see the underside of your own leaves.

Think about it:

  • The talented professional who doesn’t realise their people-pleasing is sabotaging their leadership
  • The dedicated teacher who can’t see how their boundary-less giving is breeding resentment, not respect
  • The high-achiever whose perfectionism looks like “high standards” to them but reads as “impossible to work with” to others

These aren’t character flaws. They’re blind spots. And blind spots, by definition, are invisible to the person who has them.

You need someone who knows what to look for, who’s seen these patterns before, and who cares enough to point at the tiny yellow dots before they hatch.

That’s what a coach does. That’s what my stepfather did for my cauliflowers.

The three-solution framework: How to protect what you’re growing

When Barclay showed me the eggs, I panicked slightly. “What do I do?”

He laid out three options, each with trade-offs. As he talked, I realised he wasn’t just teaching me about gardening, he was handing me a decision-making framework that applies to virtually every problem in life.

Solution 1: Catch the butterflies (Confront the problem head-on)

What this means for gardens: Actively hunt down the white butterflies before they lay more eggs. Direct, immediate, exhausting.

What this means for life: Address the issue directly. Have the difficult conversation. Quit the toxic job. End the draining relationship. Set the hard boundary.

When to use it: When the threat is clear, present, and actively causing damage. When avoidance will only make things worse.

The cost: High energy. Emotional discomfort. Immediate disruption.

The payoff: Fast resolution. Clear results. No more wondering “what if.”

Solution 2: Pour soapy water over the leaves (Build daily habits)

What this means for gardens: Wash off the eggs regularly. They’ll keep coming back, so you’ll keep washing. It’s maintenance, not a cure.

What this means for life: Develop rituals and routines that manage the problem. Daily meditation to counteract stress. Regular coaching to process difficult emotions. Weekly friend dates to maintain connection.

When to use it: When the problem is ongoing and can’t be eliminated completely. When consistency matters more than perfection.

The cost: Requires discipline. Never “finished.” Can feel like Sisyphus pushing the boulder.

The payoff: Sustainable. Becomes automatic over time. Builds resilience through repetition.

Solution 3: Buy a net (Create boundaries and systems)

What this means for gardens: Invest in physical barriers that prevent butterflies from reaching your plants. Higher upfront cost, but protects everything long-term.

What this means for life: Build systems and boundaries that keep threats out automatically. Hire help. Automate decisions. Create non-negotiable rules. Invest in tools that protect your energy.

When to use it: When you’re tired of managing the same problem repeatedly. When the upfront investment saves endless future effort.

The cost: Money, time, or social capital upfront. Possible pushback from others. Requires planning.

The payoff: Long-term protection. Mental space freed up. Problems prevented before they start.

The uncomfortable truth: Sometimes you just do your best

Here’s what I’ve learned from six months of amateur gardening: Not every plant makes it.

Despite my best efforts, some tomatoes split. Some lettuce bolts. Some seedlings just… don’t.

And that’s okay.

In coaching, I see people torture themselves over outcomes they couldn’t control. The client who got let go despite excellent performance. The relationship that ended despite your best efforts. The child who struggles despite your devoted parenting.

Sometimes, you do everything right and the caterpillars still come. The weather doesn’t cooperate. The soil wasn’t right to begin with.

The lesson isn’t “try harder.” The lesson is “learn, adapt, plant again.”

My failed lettuce taught me about timing. My split tomatoes taught me about watering consistency. My devoured kale taught me about pest management.

Each failure made me a better gardener not because I’m a genius, but because I paid attention and adjusted.

This is exactly what coaching offers: A space to examine what happened, extract the lessons, and design your next attempt with wisdom instead of blame.

Every Plant Has Unique Needs (And So Do You)

Walk through my little patio garden with me.

The tomatoes crave full sun and constant water. The lettuce needs shade and cool soil. The herbs want neglect—too much attention kills them. The brassicas need protection from butterflies but can handle cold that would destroy the peppers.

What works for one plant would destroy another.

Now think about the advice you’ve been given:

  • “Just be more confident!” (But you’re naturally reflective—confidence without thought isn’t your strength)
  • “You need to network more!” (But deep one-on-one relationships are where you thrive)
  • “Set work-life boundaries!” (But your work is meaningful—the problem isn’t hours, it’s purpose)

Generic advice is like giving every plant the same care. It kills more than it helps.

In my coaching practice, I see the damage caused by one-size-fits-all solutions:

  • The introvert exhausted from trying to be an extroverted leader
  • The creative punishing themselves for not thriving in rigid corporate structures
  • The helper feeling guilty for needing different boundaries than their colleagues

You’re not broken for having different needs. You’re just a different plant.

My job as a coach—like my job as a gardener—is to understand what YOU specifically need to flourish. Not what worked for someone else. Not what “should” work. What actually works for the specific, unique human sitting across from me.

What’s hidden under your leaves? A coaching assessment

You know that uncomfortable feeling you get when something’s “off” but you can’t quite name it?

That’s often the moment right before you notice the caterpillar eggs.

Ask yourself these questions honestly:

The blind spot check:

  • What feedback do you keep hearing from different people that you dismiss or minimise?
  • What pattern keeps repeating in your life despite your best efforts?
  • If your best friend described your biggest challenge, what would they notice that you can’t see?

The solution assessment:

  • Which problems in your life need confrontation (catch the butterfly)?
  • Which need daily habits and rituals (soapy water)?
  • Which need better systems and boundaries (buy the net)?

The growth audit:

  • What “failures” are you still punishing yourself for instead of learning from?
  • Where are you following advice that works for others but drains you?
  • What would “flourishing” actually look like for you—not for someone else’s version of success?

The protection question:

  • What threatens your growth that you’re currently celebrating (like my butterflies)?
  • What boundaries would you set if you truly prioritized your wellbeing?
  • Who in your life sees your underside-of-the-leaves clearly enough to warn you?

Why smart people still need gardeners (And coaches)

I’m a reasonably intelligent person. I can read gardening books. Google “cauliflower pests.” Watch YouTube tutorials.

But when Barclay visits, he sees things in five minutes that I’ve missed for weeks.

Not because I’m incompetent. Because:

  1. He knows what to look for (pattern recognition from years of experience)
  2. He’s not emotionally attached to my plants (objective perspective)
  3. He can see the whole garden at once (systems thinking vs. individual focus)

This is precisely why coaching works—not because you’re incapable, but because you’re too close to your own garden.

The executive who can transform entire organisations but can’t see their own leadership blind spots.

The therapist who helps others set boundaries but works themselves into exhaustion.

The teacher who develops every student’s potential but neglects their own.

You’re not broken. You’re human. And humans cannot see the underside of their own leaves.

Your next step: Tend your garden differently

If you’ve made it this far, you probably recognise yourself somewhere in this post.

Maybe you’re celebrating butterflies that are actually laying eggs on your dreams.

Maybe you’re trying to grow in conditions that don’t match your needs.

Maybe you’re doing your best but wondering why nothing is flourishing despite all your effort.

Here’s what I know from both gardening and coaching: Every plant can produce something wonderful. Including you.

But you need the right conditions. The right protection. The right care. And sometimes, you need someone who can spot the tiny yellow dots before they hatch into something that devours your potential.

Work with Me: Coaching for growth

I work with doctors, teachers, headteachers, and helping professionals, people who spend their lives tending to others’ gardens while their own goes unexamined.

Together, we’ll:

  • Identify the blind spots hiding under your leaves
  • Determine which problems need confrontation, habits, or boundaries
  • Design conditions where you specifically can flourish
  • Build protection against the threats you can’t see coming

Because you deserve to grow without being devoured.

Stop celebrating the butterflies that are destroying your potential. Let’s build a garden  and a life where you flourish.

What’s one “caterpillar egg” you’ve discovered hiding under your own leaves? Share in the comments, your insight might help someone else spot theirs.

Know someone who needs to check their leaves? Send them this post.

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