Finding Your Way Back

Sometimes growth isn't about becoming someone new. It's about finding your way back to yourself.

Yesterday, I shared something I've been quietly building for a long time. Today, I'd like to share why it exists.

For as long as I can remember, I've thought about how heartbreaking it is that we're expected to have our lives figured out in our twenties—and certainly by our thirties. Somewhere along the way, we're taught that success comes from deciding who we're going to be as quickly as possible and spending the rest of our lives proving we made the right choice.

I'm about to turn forty-three, and in many ways, I feel like I'm only just beginning to truly know myself.

For years, I was told to pick a lane. Find a niche. Choose one path and become known for it. No one ever suggested there might be another way. No one ever suggested that perhaps the work I felt called to do was never meant to fit neatly into one category at all.

It wasn't until I stopped trying to fit into one category that I realized every part of my journey had always belonged together. This isn't a new direction. It's the place where every part of my journey finally came together.

Branch & Balance Collective didn't begin with a business plan. It began with witnessing what happens when people are asked to leave parts of their humanity at the door. I saw it in workplaces, in leadership, in relationships, in wellness, and eventually, I saw it in myself.

It left me with one question:

How do we help people find their way back?

Back to their roots.

Back to their voice.

Back to the wisdom they've carried all along.

Because I believe something with every part of who I am.

We are worthy simply because we are human.

Not because of what we produce.

Not because of what we achieve.

Not because of how successful we become.

Not because of how useful we are to someone else.

Simply because we are human.

We live in a world that constantly tells us to become more—more productive, more successful, more efficient, more accomplished. Yet very little teaches us how to become more ourselves.

So we chase. We chase careers, expectations, accomplishments, and approval. With every leap forward, we often leave pieces of ourselves behind. We build walls. We wear masks. We silence parts of ourselves to fit into a role, meet an expectation, or live according to someone else's definition of success. Eventually, we begin believing those expectations more than we believe ourselves.

Somewhere along the way, we lose touch with ourselves. Sometimes slowly. Sometimes all at once.

We stop recognizing our own voice.

Leadership becomes performance instead of presence.

Work becomes survival instead of purpose.

Relationships become something we manage instead of something we experience.

Movement becomes another task instead of a way home.

We begin separating what was never meant to be divided. Our minds race ahead while our bodies carry the weight. Our intuition grows quieter beneath years of expectations until we forget what it feels like to live as a whole person.

We convince ourselves there is only one path forward because we've spent decades following the paths others laid before us. Rarely do we stop long enough to ask:

"Is this truly me, or is this who I've learned to become?"

What if growth looked different?

What if growth wasn't about adding more?

What if it began by creating space?

Space to notice.

Space to listen.

Space to reconnect.

Sometimes it begins with nothing more than a slow inhale and a slow exhale—a moment where the mind and body remember they were never meant to work against one another. From that place, something begins to shift.

We reconnect with the intuition we've always had but may have stopped trusting years—or even decades—ago. Growth stops feeling like another checklist to complete, another milestone to reach, another race to win. Instead, it becomes that slow in-breath and slow out-breath that leaves you feeling grounded enough to move forward with purpose.

This is why Branch & Balance exists.

To create places where people can return.

Return to themselves.

Return to authentic leadership.

Return to healthy relationships.

Return to organizations that remember their humanity.

Return to work that reflects their values.

Return to their own breath.

Return to their own body.

Return to the quiet wisdom that has always lived within them.

Return to the belief that their voice matters.

Return to the understanding that boundaries are not barriers—they are expressions of self-respect.

Return to the simple truth that their humanity has never needed to be earned.

Imagine what becomes possible when we stand fully in our humanity. Imagine the impact we could have in our homes, our workplaces, our communities, in the way we lead, and in the way we love.

Wherever we begin—as individuals and as a collective—let's begin now.

That's why every partnership begins with the same rhythm.

Pause.

Create space before reacting.

Witness.

Observe with curiosity instead of judgment.

Reclaim.

Reconnect with your values, your voice, and your inner wisdom.

Cultivate.

Practice what gives life through intentional daily choices.

Embody.

Live in alignment so your values become visible in the way you lead, work, move, and relate.

Whether we're practicing yoga, coaching a leader, supporting an organization, or redesigning a business, the practice is always the same.

Pausing gives us the opportunity to reconnect—to our beliefs, our intuition, our moral compass, and the quiet wisdom that often gets buried beneath expectations. From that place, we make decisions that are grounded instead of reactive, authentic instead of performative, aligned instead of expected.

We move forward because we know the path belongs to us. From there, we can face any challenge, repair what needs repairing, reconnect where connection is possible, and release what no longer serves us.

Then we begin to remember something we've been taught to forget.

We are not a checklist.

We are not a timeline.

We are not a KPI.

We are not our titles.

We are not our productivity.

We are not our performance.

We are human.

And our humanity has always been enough.

Perhaps that's what Branch & Balance has been trying to say all along.

Not that you need to become someone new.

But that somewhere beneath the expectations, the timelines, the roles, the titles, and the noise…

You have been there all along.

Waiting to be remembered.

Waiting to be trusted.

Waiting to come home.

Meaningful growth isn't something we achieve.

It's something we practice.

Welcome.

I'm so glad you're here.

— Casey♡

How Can We Provide Support?

These are just a small number of the questions I continue to ask myself as someone who has found themselves in the wellness / self help / coaching space. I often struggle with how to show up in this space because I both know how helpful it can be and also how not so helpful it can be. I often find similar language, processes, and structures in this space are just repackaged rules and regulations under the guise of empowerment and self help that I have been trying to get out of my whole life.

If I don't follow or lives up to these rules, am I a failure? Is this arena just another constricting box trying to make people fit into rigid and predetermined boundaries? Can we provide space and advice and helpful support without making them try to be anything other than authentically themselves - whatever that may be, however they may shift day to day? Can we support, show up for, and encourage without a list of DOs and a list of DONTs?

I share these questions for anyone who might find themselves asking similar ones and I'll continue to sit with them and see what comes up for me as I remain present to the ever-shifting dynamics of my life.

• Can we help others without guilt or shame?

• Can we empower others without creating shortcoming or weaknesses to overcome?

• Can we assist in making a shift or change without people feeling “less than” during the process?

• Can we provide advise or expertise without becoming the “expert” in someone else’s life?

• Can we provide support outside the binary of DO this - DON’T do this?

It’s Time You Belonged to Your Own Life.

I wrote this in my journal several years ago. I don’t even think I knew at that time what I meant by writing it, belonging to my own life, what does that event mean? I do remember feeling like my life at that time wasn’t mine, it didn’t fit, everything felt off, stifling, like I was on a path but did not know where the fuck I was going. I couldn’t get off of it, but I desperately knew I needed to.

There wasn’t a magical aha moment, or a simple declaration, I am going to live my life differently! And it all changed. But little but little, time and more time went by and I began to peal back decades of layers of expectations, judgements, requirements to see where I could start to really discern, am I making this decision because I want to or because I feel like I have to? It wasn’t easy, it’s still not. I still reckon often with this questions, why am I doing this, why am I making this decision, why am I moving in this direction? But each time it just becomes a little more clearer, and that I am grateful fo

I am the Expert of My Own Life.

I still struggle to embody this message myself, but it is such an important one for me to say out loud sometimes. This does not mean I can do it all on my own or that I have it ALL together. I still need help, support, love, understanding, feedback, care, compassion, listening. It just means that no one single person holds all the answers to my own life. I can seek help to navigate questions I have or old patterns and stories I wish to rewrite or retell. I can rely on a compassionate listener to allow me to hear my own words set out loud, to sit with me in the ‘stuff’ that is my life. I can desire validation that my pain or my struggle is real and true.

With a dire need to seek treatment for chronic health issues, to extinguish my anxiety and lift me out of my depression, for years I allowed many people to come into my life claiming expert status proclaiming they had the answers for me. When those answers did not fit me or my life, I became the problem, I was the one who did not follow through, did not work hard enough, did not do enough to make myself “better.” I was often dismissed with things I said or shared that didn’t fit a certain narrative ... “oh that’s not important to this.” I would want to shout -- um it’s important to me, so yes, it is important! But these conversations often came with a not-so-subtle veil of shame that would keep me small and keep me quiet always questioning myself and never trusting what I knew to be true.

People are the experts of their own lives; they hold the most information and understanding about who they are and what they have been through and where they want to be. They may need help accessing it, or putting the pieces together, or seeing the big full picture. I know I did and still do. I have had and still have some wonderful people in my life share their gifts and talents and expertise with me which has been life changing. But reminding myself and trusting myself that deep within I know what is right and what is best for me is a really important piece of the puzzle for my own life.

Cooking and Perfectionism … A Tale

Cooking, for me, has always been a deep dive down the perfectionism rabbit hole. My mind goes a million miles per second. I overheat almost immediately, my stress level goes through the roof, and an emotional wave of immediate failure and that voice saying “you know this isn’t going to turn out right, why are you even trying?” I mean I know, it’s just cooking right, why the emotional turmoil?

I’ve thought about this a lot and certainly have and continue to work on my deep need to show up perfectly in all sorts of areas of my life. I think it has a lot to do with control and following the “rules” – two things my perfectionism loves. I need to follow the recipe just right in order to control the outcome and if anything is off or did not go right – then it has to be my fault - I must have done something ‘wrong.’ I must be wrong.

Well, this morning brought a beautiful lesson of cooking and perfectionism. My husband recently had surgery. I wanted to do something special for him during his recovery, so I offered to make his absolute favorite dish – quiche. In making this offer, I knew I’d be up against that voice in my head – you are going to mess this up. The kitchen looked like I had just taken eggs and cheese and thrown it all up into the air. The pan I used was so warped that when I put it in the oven the quiche was tilted so much that it began to leak not only on to the sheet pan but down onto the actual oven, so the house started to smell like burnt eggs and cheese. I recognized my perfectionistic voice trying to tell me I messed up, didn’t do it right, I had failed. I heard it, I listened to it, and then I said to it, I am okay. These things that happened are okay. It doesn’t mean I am a failure, or even that this quiche is a failure. Doing something for someone I love is the reason I showed up in my kitchen this morning, NOT so I could show up and perfectly execute a quiche.

A few bites in, my husband proclaims, “well done, love, executed perfectly!” Perfectly .. no, because while perfectionism is powerful it is also bullshit. But this morning’s quiche was made with love and a true desire to do something special for the person I love the most

I am Scared of the Silence Because of What I Will Hear in My Own Thoughts

I found this sentence in an old journal of mine from a few years ago. It was during a time where I was struggling to make sense of my life. The best way I can describe it is, I would look at myself in the mirror and not recognize the face staring back at me. I was loved, I was grateful for my life, but things just did not feel right, and deep down I knew it. Avoidance and numbing were my go to's. If I could just ignore those feelings, drowned out the thoughts that something was amiss, life would just course correct and everything would make sense.

Well, life did not automatically course correct and no amount of avoidance or numbing made things better.

What did, and still does is beginning to answer the questions - who am I, really, and how is it that I want to show up in my own life. Not based on someone else's definition or expectations, but deep within my core - what does it mean to belong in my own life?

Sometimes the silence still scares me, avoidance can still be a go-to for me. But more often than not I listen to those racing thoughts, I pay attention to why I want to avoid and numb them away, and when I can and it feels right, I reframe them so that I can show up in my own life - for me.

One of the biggest lessons I did learn through this process was its much harder to do alone. Sharing those racing thoughts with others can be scary ... will they judge me? Will they not understand me? Will they reject me? All real and true fears we may feel when start to uncover some of the reasons why we've pushed aside those thoughts for so long. I am here to tell you don't have to do it alone. Truly belonging in our own life begins with true connection, it begins with being able to show up exactly as we are, even if we might know who that is just yet.

Do You Communicate From a Place of Fear or From a Place of Openness?

Communication can be the key to so much. Communication from a place of fear can cause breakdowns, misunderstanding, judgement, mistrust. Communication from a place of openness can provide empathy, understanding, care, supportive moments of vulnerability.

Understanding how and why we communicate and how those around us do the same is crucial in building a true sense of belonging because it cultivates an ability for all of us to be seen, to be heard, and to be validated.

I invite you to consider how do you communicate with those around you, in your home, in your workspace, in your community? How are those around you communicating with you in those spaces? Do you feel seen, heard, and validated and if not where is the breakdown? Communication is certainly not a one-way street; it takes commitment and willingness to move from fear to openness.

I believe that if we begin to communicate with one another from a place of openness and not from a place of fear, we can begin to build communities of true belonging.

I Feel Overwhelmed …

I feel like I need to have it all together to show up in this space. That is the real and honest truth. I feel like I cannot post the truth because it isn’t motivational, it isn’t inspirational, it isn’t supportive or business-forward. When I feel overwhelmed and tired and anxious and lost, I want to hide. I do not want to be seen. Posting on social media is literally the last thing I want to do because it feels raw and vulnerable and I feel exposed. I do not want people to see that some days hurt and are hard, that I don’t have anything inspiring to say or to share. How do I show up in my business when this is how I feel? When I write, I am drawn to write about the here and now and how I am feeling in the moment. And to be honest, a lot of the time that is feeling overwhelmed and tired and lost and very, very anxious.

I, of course, know there are tips and tools and things I can do to help with all of this. Believe me, I recognize how my breath can help, how journaling can help, how movement can help, how medication can help, how naming the emotions that I am feeling out loud or on paper can help. I use all of this in my life and it all has made a tremendous impact on my life. It all has its place and its ability to assist in sorting out what I am feeling. But I also have come to recognize that these tools I know so well are not simply a band-aid that if I just placed it over what I am feeling that suddenly I won’t feel like that anymore. That the impact they make or the helpfulness they provide can ebb and flow overtime and that is real and true too.

And I also believe to create true belonging in our lives means showing up exactly as we are with no edits or band aids to hide it all. It means some days sharing the overwhelm and the anxiousness without a fix-it addition at the end to make it all better.

Today, I showed up with the overwhelm and the anxiousness because that is who I am right now and how I am feeling.

I am Capable. I am Worthy. I am Enough.

Several years ago, I went through what I can only describe as a burnout and a breakdown. Both personally and professionally I was lost. I did not know which direction to look or to move and became frozen in my fear and my anxiety and my depression. I felt like I did not have a plan or a purpose and was just floating through my life. I needed something to ground me in the present moment to help me get my bearings. I did not feel capable, I did not feel worthy, and I certainly did not feel like enough as a person, as an employee, or as a partner and a friend.

These 3 short sentences became a touchstone in those moments of feeling unmoored and untethered. It was not a way to discredit how I was feeling or the idea that I could just repeat these words to myself and talk myself into a positive mindset. This was a way for me to discern what was real and true for myself and what my anxiety was trying to convince me was real and true.

In this week’s blog, I will share further how these touchstones in moments of ungroundedness became a glimpse of belief that these words were true for myself. That defining myself based on the work that I did, or the things I accomplished, or what I checked off a list did not define my capability or my worth. That simply being myself, however I showed up made me worthy and made me enough.

Feeling grateful for my life AND feeling like it doesn’t fit can exist at the same time

Have you ever felt the overwhelming feeling of gratitude for your life … and … yet somewhere in the back of your mind you feel a nudge, a pull, a stark contrast of disconnection to the gratitude that makes you close your eyes and wince if you let it any further into your thoughts?

For many years, I felt this. Trying to make my life fit rather than actually feel like I belonged to and in my own life. This has been a process, an ebb and flow between the gratitude and the disconnect to create true belonging for myself. But first came the recognition that both existed, and this was an important first step.

Feeling grateful for your life and feeling like it doesn’t fit can and DO exist at the same time. I’ll explore this more deeply in this week’s blog post. Stay tuned for more to come Thursday.

I am Allowed to Belong to My Own Life.

Have you ever felt the overwhelming feeling of gratitude for your life … and … yet somewhere in the back of your mind you feel a nudge, a pull, a stark contrast of disconnection to the gratitude that makes you close your eyes and wince if you let it any further into your thoughts? 

For many years, I felt this. Trying to make my life fit rather than actually feel like I belonged to and in my own life. It felt like the good days and the bad days flowed with such precision, it was like a river cutting its path through the limestone. One day I would feel like everything was flowing in the right direction, slow and steady resembling a calm and peaceful river and the next everything was chaos and fear, raging like an overflowing river. There was the person I felt I was on the inside and the person I presented to the outside. It felt like the person inside was watching from above the person on the outside move through our life towards a destination predetermined by someone entirely separate from us. The two versions of me yelling at each other asking which one of us was in charge, when all along we both knew it was neither of us. I was disconnected from myself trying to be someone I felt like others were telling me to be.

It took a lot of time and effort internally and externally to first even recognize this disconnection and then more time and work to heal it. Below I share a few things that I was able to realize through this process.  

Boxes to check as my road map

From the beginning of my adult life I felt like I was on the ‘right road,’ moving towards those ubiquitous boxes I needed to check in order to live a fulfilling and successful life. Good grades, good schools, good jobs. Check, check, check. These boxes became bigger - get married, buy a house, get a better job, buy bigger things, check, check, check, and check. I was doing everything I was supposed to do and yet felt like I could not breathe, my anxiety ran ramped nearly every day. I felt like it had to be the next box I checked off that would bring me that fulfilling and successful life. I was doing everything right; it had to be right around the corner. So, I kept checking the boxes and wishing and hoping that happy life that was just out of reach was waiting for me to check all the right boxes. More and more boxes checked … less and less my life felt like my own.

Shame and guilt as fuel to the fire  

Amid this back and forth of checking the boxes and waiting for my ‘perfect’ life to show up, the guilt and shame began to creep in. Slowly and strongly, it made its way in and took ahold of me. How dare I even question this life of mine? How ungrateful and spoiled could I be?  I had so many privileges and opportunities in my presence, shouldn’t I just shut up that voice in the back of my mind and tell it to cut it out already. We are good, we should be grateful for this amazing life. Guilt and shame are reckless emotions, they can cut you down so quickly and so forcefully you are paralyzed to make any move – forward or backward or anything in between. My shame and my guilt for waking up some days and feeling trapped and stuck in my life was overwhelming at times. I felt like I could not escape any of it.

Numbing as survival

To deal with the shame and guilt, I began to numb. I cannot remember when it really started. Like the shame and guilt, the numbness crept in slowly and strongly until I was so far in, I could not recognize it. I numbed with alcohol mostly, sometimes food or hours of tv, but that was always accompanied with alcohol. If I was going to spend the rest of my life just making everything fit and then feel guilty and ashamed for not being grateful, I was going to numb it all away. I was numbing away these feelings significantly for many years, until the numbing became too much, too scary, creating even more disconnect in myself. For me, I was trying to numb away the anxiety, the guilt, the shame of not loving every bit of my life, while in fact I was fueling that all more and more each time I had a drink. I started to try short stints where I did not drink, a weekend here, a few weeks there. Yet, it always found me again, the deep and shameful desire to numb away my life. I did a solid 6 months in 2017 where I was able to start to really get some clarity about this feeling of gratitude AND my life just not fitting right. It found me later that year though, taking its hold again. In 2018 on January 1st, I gave myself 365 days without alcohol to see what I could make of my life. This fully changed the trajectory of my life. I began to see how deeply I had desired to make my life fit into the boxes, escape the guilt and shame, numb it all away. I knew the way I had been living was not how I wanted to continue. I needed to start working on healing this deep disconnect that had existed in me for so long.

Communication as healing

The biggest healing came from when I started to truly communicate with myself. I set aside the boxes to check, the roles to fulfill, the desire to fit into what I believed others wanted for me and from me. I began to ask myself questions like, at the end of my life, will I be proud of how I lived it? Is what I am striving for something I genuinely want, or is it only because I think it’s what I should want? Who do I want to show up as in my own life? No one is going to invite me to my own life, so when am I going to invite myself? Creating true communication between the person I was on the inside and the person I presented on the outside allowed me to begin to bring these two versions of myself into alignment. This began to transform how I also communicated with others. I was able to say yes fully and authentically to things I wanted and/or needed and to say no to the things I really didn’t want and/or need. I was beginning to define my life on my terms and no one else’s. I was able to be honest with myself and others in ways I had never really had been before. I was able to fully name my anxiety and the guilt and the shame I held. I was able to really begin to understand what I loved about my life and what I had been holding on to only to make me fit into my life.

Belonging as true gratitude

The more and more I uncovered about who I was and who I wanted to be, I was able to recognize the pieces that were missing and the pieces I needed to let go. I could still be grateful for the pieces I was letting go and also be grateful for the space I was making for the pieces I needed to welcome in. I was learning that to truly belong to my life I needed to move through it from a place of connection. It was up to me to connect the pieces in a way that created true belonging for myself. That it was okay to evaluate and reevaluate and continue to ask myself … is this who I am and who I want to be? If something feels like I am just trying to make it fit, why is that? I can still be grateful for my life AND work to make sure I am not compromising true belonging to just make something fit because I think that it should or because someone else tells me it should. For me, this will be an ongoing journey I take myself on. Today, I am incredibly grateful for my life AND I am also very much aware that my gratitude can and will always exist among my doubts and fears and desire for more. True belonging begins with letting go of what is no longer working and letting in what is truly meant to be – this is where I continue to anchor myself when the river begins to feel strong and the current faster. I am allowed to let go so that I can let in what is truly meant to be. I am allowed to belong to my own life.

What Are Communities of Belonging?

When I first began to think about what I wanted to offer clients both on the induvial and organizational level, I kept coming to, I just want people to feel like they belong! That they belong in and to their own lives, that they belong in and to an organizational they help run or lead, that folks can show up exactly who they are and be fully seen, heard, and validated.  

This had been a goal of my own for quite some time. Feeling like I did not belong in my own life, like I was trying to make myself fit into predetermined boxes and check lists. A life where I was not really showing up for myself or for the ones I loved because I was so busy being someone I really was not.

I was inspired to making a shift from feeling like I was just “fitting in” to actually feeling like I fully belonged to my own life when I came across this distinction in Brene Browns book The Gifts of Imperfection. Her research showed her that while many of using fitting in and belong interchangeably, this is not really the case. She writes,

“Fitting in is about assessing a situation and becoming who you need to be to be accepted. Belonging, on the other hand, doesn’t require use to change who we are; it requires who to be who we are.”

Too much of my time had been spent on changing myself to be accepted in my own life and in my own workplaces. I had to edit myself, shift myself, create different identities of myself. I was spending all of my time trying desperately to fit myself into what I thought I needed to be rather that letting myself just be.

This took a toll on me mentally, physically, and emotionally. Trying to fit in was not good for me, it was not good for my relationships both personal and professional. It was not good for me as a spouse, as a friend, as a coworker.

What I have come to recognize in myself and in others is that we do a lot better when we feel like we can show up just as we are without edits, without shifts, without changes. When we can be seen and heard and validated for exactly who we are. We are better community members, better partners, better friends, better coworkers and employees, better leaders.  

In creating communities of belonging, I help foster better communication, connection, empowerment, and stronger relationships. Knowing you belong rather than feeling like you are just trying to fit in can make all the difference in our communities at home and our communities at work.

It is at the intersection of letting go of what no longer is working and letting in what is truly meant to be.

Right Now … This Is The One Thing I Can Do

I am not sure even what to say or how to put words together or even if I can put words together if they will make any sense, but I think I am going to try and see what comes of it.

For these last few weeks, I have been paralyzed with fear - with anxiety - with anger – with frustration. with the unknown - with the unreachable.

I keep asking myself what can I do? Where I can step up? How do I help this world, my community, my family? Should I share the ways I take care of myself like running or working out in my basement, or how I have been journaling every day to put some framework to my thoughts, or how I hug my dogs and my cat and my husband a little bit longer and a little bit harder these days. Yet, it all lands flat for me right now. What do I do when my husband asks me should he go to work and risk getting sick or should he stay home and we deal with the financial fallout of putting his health over money? How do you answer that? How to you help your friends whose small businesses are hurting or for friends who have lost their jobs all together? How do you not endlessly worry about family and friends on the frontlines in the hospitals going in every day knowing their risk of exposure is high? How do you help the incredible public employees you work for as they continue to stand up and show up in this crisis? Some of them begging for us to stay home telling anyone calling for services to provide crucial information so they can protect themselves when they answer those calls. while others, had to  just in a few shorts days change their job description all together from teaching in a classroom to teaching from home. How do I help them? How do I support the state employees helping all of our citizens who have lost work and are trying to get services to help keep them and their families afloat? What do you do? What do you say?

Each day seems to bring with it a new deluge of information and new decisions to be made based on that information. For those like myself who try and gather as much information and data as they possibly can to relieve a growing and building anxiety inside themselves, this time has been an ongoing anxiety attack for days on end. I cannot get enough information to quench the anxiety and the more information I gather the larger and more brutish my anxiety grows. Nothing seems to lessen this growing and yet ever changing feeling of being overwhelmed with the state of the world and overwhelmed with how it will impact my life, the lives of those I love and cherish, and the lives of millions I will never meet.

I have come to the raw and real conclusion at this moment, the one thing I can do right now, the absolute one thing in my control, is to stay sober. While gratitude abounds from my heart that I have a roof over my head, I have clean water, the people I love the most in this world are at this moment safe and healthy, I cannot diminish that I sit here, in today, in the midst of it all, 816 days alcohol-free. For someone who for decades used alcohol to dull, to escape, to numb all fear and anxiety and pain and panic away, it seems like if there was any time to do so it would be now. The unknown makes me feel so out of control and the alcohol could help make me feel less out of control … if only for a moment. And the thought of that one moment seems like the relief I so desperately need right now.

Yet I know the promise of relief and of peace and stillness that I think it will give me -- it will not. It will set fire to the anxiety, it will bruise my sense of safety, it will diminish my capacity to feel my true emotions, it will not allow me to hold space for my husband so that he can also process what is happening to him and to those around him, it will dull my gratitude and my ability to recognize my own resilience.

Staying sober is what I can do right now. It is the one thing I will do right now. It may seem so little in comparison to what others are doing at this moment, and yet, I know it is the most courageous thing I can do for myself. And in doing so, I will be able to find ways to help those around me, to be present to what is happening in the world and in my community, to be there for the people I love the most in the world. Staying sober is not easy on any day, let alone a global crisis. It hurts, it is painful, it is lonely and I feel like sometimes I want to scratch my way out of my own skin. But for my life and for my family it is crucial I sit in the pain and the hurt and allow it to wash over me without trying to get rid of it through a drink. So today, I don’t make any promises to stand up or stand out at the moment, but I do promise that I will be brave enough and resilient enough to know that when I am ready to stand up or stand out or simply show up, I will be sober when I do. I will be proud that I remained sober when all my anxiety is telling me to do is to push it down and numb it away. I will be proud that I felt every single thing I am feeling and survived it.  

So for right now … that is the one thing I will do.

Forgiveness

In working with clients, forgiveness is often a topic that rises to the surface of our conversations and often in the context of forgiving ourselves. Forgiveness ... forgiving others or our ourselves is a very intimate and personal journey, and one that often does not come easily. Forgiving myself was over a decade in the making, it was not easy and for a long time I held on to a lot because I felt like it was my necessary punishment for mistakes in the past to hold on to the guilt and shame. This practice of putting my words of forgiveness on to paper and sharing them was a cathartic and necessary one for me to let go of the guilt and shame and allow in joy and belonging.

—

A few days ago I was speaking to someone about all of these exciting things I am inviting into my life. All of these new opportunities and challenges -- ALL things I want to do. Yet, in the same breath I was telling this person I also felt a little overwhelmed, worried I won't have the time or the energy to do it all, worried that my new joyful additions will begin to feel like expected obligations I must complete. I told her that for so many years I had been living a life out of expectation and not out of joy, and now that I was trying to reverse that, I was worried I would turn everything into expectations and push all the joy away.  I would then be right back to where I was several years ago. I explained to them that I felt frustrated because I had wasted so much time doing things I didn't want to do, and was worried and sad I wouldn't be able to do all of things I wanted to because I let so many years go by without doing the things I truly wanted to do. 

In finally taking a breath to pause myself and allow this person to speak, I was waiting for the, you just need to get organized, make sure your calendar is up to date, create lists, use every moment you can to get something done. Small things first, big these next. 

Instead slowly and with intent, they explained to me that what they were hearing in all of the expectations and obligations and frustration and sadness of  "wasted" time was forgiveness. That perhaps I needed to forgive myself for the ways in which I had spent my time before this moment and leave that behind as I moved into a new timeline of my life.  

Forgiveness. Forgiveness. Forgiveness.

This word, softly spoken and handed to me like a fragile piece of glass hung both heavy and effervescent in the air. Tears filled my eyes and I sat completely still for a few moments. I have not forgiven myself. I have forged ahead, creating a new life that centers joy and love and creation. A life where I am leading with my heart and intuition and not out of some predetermined box of expectations I must fit in to. However, I just moved ahead. I did not release the past, release myself from the past, but instead I picked it ALL up and have been carrying it with me this entire time. 

Today, I decide to put it all down, to let it go, to begin my new life timeline now. I do this without blaming and shaming myself for the things I did with my time in the past and I do it with hope for the future. 

• I forgive myself for living so many years out of expectation and obligation.

• I forgive myself for putting myself in situations I did not want to be in.

• I forgive myself for putting others in situations they did not want to be in.

• I forgive the little girl I was, so consumed by anxiety and fear that she stayed small and quiet or erupted in bursts of anger and frustration because she did not have the words to express what she was feeling inside.

• I forgive the teenager who felt like she need to "be someone" defined by others and the college student so focused and determined with getting that letter grade she left no time to explore the world around her.

• I forgive myself for so many drunken regrets.

• I forgive myself for the morning and days wasted feeling hungover and sick.

• I forgive myself for trying to be perfect ALL OF THE TIME.

• I forgive myself for hating my body and not believing it was capable of so many incredible things.

• I forgive myself for trying so hard to fit in when all I wanted to do was belong.

• I forgive myself for chasing status rather than contentment.

• I forgive myself for spending so much time trying to numb the pain away.

• I forgive myself for setting expectations so high that I forced myself to believe I was a failure when I could not reach them.

• I forgive myself for staying small and quiet because I was afraid.

• I forgive myself for not believing I was capable of anything.

• I forgive myself for believing I was not worthy of loving kindness from myself.

• I forgive myself for not believing that I, in my all my beautiful messiness, was enough.

• I forgive myself. I forgive myself. I forgive myself.

Today I let it all go. I set down the burden of shame and self-blame. I look forward, my life timeline starting now, taking the lessons I have learned with me, but leaving behind the should haves, could haves, wish I hads.

Each and every day moving forward from this point I promise to remind myself that I am Capable. I am Worthy. I am Enough. 

And that after all of it...forgiving myself means loving myself...unconditionally. 

My Year Without Alcohol

In 2017 I spent nearly 6 months sober. Quietly and without telling anyone, I stopped drinking at the end of January that year. This was after years of small breaks – 1 week here, 2 weeks there, even a 30-day Dry January challenge the year prior. At all points, I found myself pulled back into the delicious first sips of red wine and the giddy jolt of that first taste of a very cold beer. As 2017 started coming to an end and I found myself drinking again, I knew I wanted to make a serious change. A change to my life’s direction, my daily patterns, my coping mechanisms. That is when I decided I would give myself one-year, 365 days to see what would come of my life if I chose not to include alcohol in it. On January 1, 2019, I completed my 365 day challenge to myself. Here is what I am walking away with and taking me into another year of adventure, joy, challenge, and growth.

I am an introvert at heart
In my teens, twenties, and even the beginning of my thirties I felt like I needed to be a “social butterfly.” I needed to be surrounded by people – meet for drinks after work, parties on the weekends, drinks, drinks, and more drinks. I think I easily present myself as an extrovert. A lot of training, socialization, and necessary interactions have taught me how to present myself in social settings. For many years, I believed I was an extrovert. A lot of that was because when I drink, I become much more able and willing to interact, talk, chat, etc. Yet, it was painful to do so sometimes. I felt like I needed to drink if I was going to be social. In the moment, it helped remove any feelings of anxiousness and worry of the unknown. It provided a strong commitment to make sure everyone around me was having a good time.

This is not to say I don’t love spending time with family and friends, I do! There is a certain energy I get when I am around wonderful, authentic, and genuine people that I cannot get when I am alone. However, now that I have removed alcohol I recognize much better the moments to say yes to social engagement and the moments I need to say no. Recognizing that I prefer quieter and intimate engagements to loud and chaotic interactions. In this recognition I can now be more present in all moments I find myself – recognizing my strengths and the things I still struggle with.

I am better spouse
I have loved the same man for over 17-years. Each day we work in what I consider a true partnership. We trust each other, we respect other, we challenge each other when necessary, and every single day we show a deep and long-lasting love for one another. Drinking made me a subpar partner. It made me cranky, mouthy, judgmental, and disconnected. Not every time. Not every drink. But on average, I was not the spouse my husband deserved, nor was I the spouse I wanted to be. Never once did he hold this against me, nor did he meet my drinking with guilt and shame. He was and still remains my biggest supporter. Yet, when you know someone as well as I know him, I saw the disappoint and frustration behind his kind and beautiful eyes more than I ever wanted to see.  I knew I was not living up to the potential he recognized in me.

I think if you were to ask him, this last year has created a whole new level to our love and commitment. Being clear minded every morning and every night allows for more connection, communication, and of course, laughter. True laughter deep from the belly that often ends in a snort out my nose and further giggles from him. I am very grateful for him as my friend who did not for one moment judge me and who quietly stood by my side as I transitioned into the spouse, partner, and friend we both deserved. 

I am anxious and I am okay
Trying to contain anxiety with alcohol is like trying to contain a fire with gasoline. Not only does it not contain it, it sparks it into a feverish roller coaster of high intense anxiety to very low bouts of depression. Trying to numb anxiety and depression by using alcohol just pushes it further into the future to deal with at a levels so high you can barely breathe when they hit. Drinking never got rid of the anxiety, it just sent it away to patiently wait for those few moments I finally felt peace to wallop me.  While I thought it was helping me manage my stress and my anxiety around work, social outings, and daily life responsibilities, it was in fact growing my anxiety so hard and so fast I felt like I was spiraling into some type of anxiety attack nearly every day.

To think I could have lessened my anxiety years ago if I had just stopped trying to medicate it with alcohol - what a concept! Yet, I am thankful to have learned that lesson this year. Yes I still have anxiety and yes I still have very rough days. But the rebound is so much more gentler now. A lot of my anxiety was created by the shame and guilt I felt after my drinking. Oh god, what did I say? What did I do? Was I out of line or did I upset anyone? Removing all of those moments of possible anxiety right off the top was incredibly uplifting. There were so many mornings I woke up anxious and filled with guilt for drinking. Not once, not one single morning in the past 365+ days have I woken up feeling guilty or anxious for NOT drinking. That was and still is a profoundly powerful feeling for me.

The world is messy and beautiful

There is a difference between balance and avoidance. Drinking was often a way to avoid the anxiety and the chaos that can be every day life. I was trying to strike what I thought was a balance, but in reality what I was doing was ignoring all of the stress, issues I didn’t want to deal with, and the overall messiness of life. Once I recognized I had anxiety, I thought I had to just do whatever I could to “get rid of the anxiety.” Getting rid of the anxiety meant ignoring life, it meant mindlessly watching tv or scrolling social media with a glass of wine in my hand. I thought you know what, I need “balance” in my life and so my coping through drinking became my balance to the chaos. Yet, this was not balance, this was avoidance. This was not dealing with the messiness of life, and in doing so, just made life messier. Life is messy and it is beautiful. It is both and there is no way to avoid either side of that. The balance comes from being able to ride the wave between messy and beautiful. It means trying not get knocked off by the messiness and staying open to the beauty. It also means accepting that life will always be both, never just one or the other.

I am courageous and I feel fear
Like anxiety and alcohol, fear and alcohol was nearly the same for me. I thought one was helping me deal with other, but in fact it was not. It’s incredible how I thought alcohol made me braver, how it made me step out of comfort zones and face the world.  It did none of these things. At the end of the day, it made me more fearful. Instead of facing my fears, I could hide behind the alcohol and tell myself I will face them another day. Being sober has brought forth this beautiful relationship with fear now. Fear use to hold me back, now it drives me forward. I am okay with being afraid because I am also courageous. I face my fears now - from meeting new people - to defining my life for me and me alone - to climbing 4000 foot mountains - to running alone for many miles at a time .

I communicate with my body
I have to say the biggest thing I am taking with me into the rest of my life is just how absolutely incredible my body is. I never considered myself an athlete or a strong and physically capable person. Yes, I played lacrosse in high school, and was a dancer for many years, and even attempted the crew team freshman year of college. Not even during those times, did I think of myself as someone who was capable of great physically enduring activities. This year changed all that. I have done more to challenge my mind and my body when it comes to physical activity than in the previous 34 years of my life. The most amazing thing is that in challenging my body, I have also learned how to take care of it. To give it rest when its needed, to not push it when it shouldn’t be pushed, and most importantly to listen to it. For years I ignored the messages my body was sending me because I didn’t want to hear them. Now I listen, now I show it respect, and we are in a reciprocal relationship instead of a one-way street.  

​I feel joy  
Real joy. Pure joy. Joy you feel deep in your bones. I am not sure if it ever really existed before this year. This is not to say I was never happy or I didn’t feel love or goodness in my life. But the thing with alcohol is that if you are using it to numb the pain you will also numb all the wonderful emotions you are capable of feeling, including joy. With alcohol in my life, I lived in a dim haze…somewhere between hiding from the world and being fully alive. The deepest depths of gratitude now exist within me because I know what pure joy feels like, I know what belief in myself feels like, I know what the impact of trust and intuition and patience can make in my life. Allowing myself to feel the full range of my emotions from the fear and anxiety to the joy and love showed me just how amazing life can be, how rich and full of beauty it can be. Even within the rough, hurtful, and painful times, there can be joy in the simplest of moments.

How 13.1 miles changed my life

Have you ever wanted to try something, but were afraid to? Have you ever had a dream that one day you would do something, but fear held you back? Did you ever say to yourself, "one day I will give that a shot," but one day never actually seemed to come? For me, my life was lived by these questions. Hesitation, fear, doubt often limited my vision of my future and my abilities. It felt like as soon as an idea would pop in my head, all those roadblocks flooded my brain until the idea was run out of town, never to be heard from again.  

Idea exists. Fear intervenes. Idea no longer exists. 
In the spring and summer of 2018, I remember two distinct times I said to myself, I wish I could run some type of marathon, ya know, that is something I really want to do. The first came in April when I was watching a reality tv show where someone was training for and preparing to run the NYC marathon. I thought wow, the dedication and commitment this type of training takes, I want to do that someday. That thought stayed with me until the next day when during a Crossfit class I struggled to run several 400 meter intervals. Well, there you go, I thought, you can't even run 400 meters how would you ever run multiple miles? Idea exists. Fear intervenes. Idea no longer exists. The second was at a yoga retreat in July. Several of us were talking about triathlons, endurance sports, and marathons. This was the first time, I really said out loud to people, I really want to run a marathon, but with heavy self-deprecation, joked I couldn't even run 400 meters. They all pushed right passed that, and one woman said, "you should just do it! Give it a try, you'll be so proud of yourself that you did it." Just give it a try? How do I just try something I have never done before? How do I know I can even make it?  I can't even begin to comprehend how people just do things without any guarantee of success or completion? Perfectionist much! Oh yes, the dreaded perfectionism reels its ugly head and once again - Idea exists. Fear intervenes. Idea no longer exists.  I quietly responded, "Um, ya, maybe....," and the subject matter changed back to the incredible weekend we were having at the retreat, and we all moved on. 

Facing the Fear
Just 2 or 3 short weeks later, my husband and I were at our local coffee shop and there hanging on the wall was a poster for a local half-marathon that was taking place in late October. My husband said, "Hey, look, you should sign up for that." All casual like as if this was something, he instinctively knew I should do. I stared at the poster for a good minute or two. Here it is. My chance to face my fear and my hesitation and my doubt. This feeling of determination and empowerment very quietly began to rise in the back of my mind. Could I do this? Could this be the race - my race? I took a picture of the flyer. On that hot July morning, the fall foliage scene with the golden hues of fallen leaves, made me long for October. Did I want October to come so I could enter this race? Was I being pulled by the beautiful photo, or by something bigger?  We grabbed our coffee, and we moved on.

For the next 5 weeks, I researched everything I possibly could ... the trail path, the gains and losses in elevation, the predicted weather for that location at that time of year. I looked up YouTube videos of people who had biked/walked the path to get an idea of what it looked like, where the possible hill climbs would be. I went over the course map more times than I can remember.  I thought if I did all this research, gathered all of the information I could, the answer to register or not would shine through it all like a lighthouse on the shore making the decision for me. Well, we all know it doesn't really work that way and at some point, we need to go all in or let it all go. On a quiet and sunny Sunday morning while my husband and animals were still sleeping, I sat with my cup of coffee and my laptop open to the registration page. I began entering my information, my excitement and nervousness and my "what the hell am I getting myself into" growing with each click of the keyboard. I entered my payment method and with a big breath in and exhale release I moved my mouse over and hit REGISTER. Here I go -- I am all in. 

Planning Does Not Always Make Perfect
After I hit the registration button, I knew my training timeframe was short. I had exactly 8 weeks between saying hell yes!, to saying here we go!, and hearing that race horn blow. I started with a few short miles--2-2.5 in length, then I built up to 4, then 5, then 6, and even did two 8-mile runs. The thing was each run felt absolutely amazing! I could not believe my legs were carrying me for these miles I had never run before in my life. I felt strong and capable and like wow, I really am going to do this. I am not kidding when I say tears would fill my eyes on every single run. After spending so many years in pain (see previous blog entry - Is the Healing Complete?), I was amazed at how easily my body was moving. How incredible it felt to feel each foot hit the pavement and bounce right back up to take another step and another step and another step. My breathing felt good and in control, my arms were strong and helped propel me forward mile after mile. 

Then one beautiful Thursday morning in September as I headed out for a 3.5 mile run after Crossfit, my ankles seized up. Like literally stopped working with 1.5 miles left in my run. I had to slowly and gently and very awkwardly walk myself back to the gym. It took me over 45 minutes to walk back. I thought okay, well I guess that was a little too much, so time  for me to slow it down. I rested for the day and when I woke up the next morning and stood up to get out of bed, I knew something was definitely not right. I had been running mile after mile, all of these amazing runs where I felt strong and capable in shoes that had minimal padding and support. As much mobility as  I had thought I was bringing to my ankles to support these runs it wasn't enough at that time. My ankles and calves took on too much too fast and I was left barely able to walk, let alone run. At this point I was 4-weeks out from the race, which may seem like enough time, but the condition my ankles were in I knew I would be cutting it close, IF I could even make it to the race. 

I could have easily say to hell with it, I messed this all up, I hurt myself, and now my goal, the goal I had wrapped up so many emotions into was out of reach. Pack it in, stop running, stop training, its all over. Believe me, I would be lying if I said those thoughts did not enter my mind, if I said I did not throw myself 1, 2, maybe even 3 pity-parties during this time. Yet, what is so incredible is when you let people in, tell them what’s going on, and ask for help and advice, it pours in. I had two incredible women step up and help me through those 4-weeks - and while a lot of it was my responsibility, I firmly believe I would not have been able to make it to race day without them. Their advice, support, and just downright belief in me made such an incredible difference to the condition of my ankles, but more importantly the condition of my mind and spirit. If they thought I could do this, there is no way I am not going to still give it a shot. With some focused exercises, a lot of rest, multiple ice packs, daily turmeric, and new supportive running shoes, I was 100% ready for race day. 

Race Day

On a blistery Saturday morning in October, I awoke early, drank my coffee in the silence of the morning, ate a small bowl of oatmeal, talked quietly to my dogs, telling them how excited and nervous and proud of myself I was about what was to happen later that morning I woke my husband with a kiss and a cup of coffee. He had only gotten home from work 6 hours ago and had slept a total of 5 hours and 20 minutes before rising again.  He would be driving me, staging himself at the beginning, end, and one place along the way to keep pushing me and cheering me on. We left in the dark, heading north to the start of the race. It was windy, definitely chilly, and every once in awhile a small amount of snow would fall from the sky. We arrived very early, Andre would say, very VERY early, probably one of the first 10 racers to get there. I checked in, received my bib number and settled in to wait for the start. An incredible energy filled the room, something I had never felt before. It resonated in me as a mixture of excitement and strength, somewhere between courage and fear. I was going to do this, I was absolutely going to fucking do this. 

As we headed out for race announcements 20-minutes before start time, I was not prepared for the snowstorm that hit me in the face as I exited the building. Oh damn, it is snowing and the wind is blooooowing. Not just a breeze, like full on windstorm. Ahh...am I going to do this? I headed back in after announcements for what I think was my twentieth stop to the bathroom -- nothing like an already nervous pee-er on the morning of her first 1/2 marathon. And then it was time, it was time to say goodbye to Andre, to put my earphones in, to turn on my pace tracker, and head to the start line. 

Life Changed 
There really are no words I can access to describe what that day was like. I had set myself 3 goals: first - just finish the race. just finished however you can, cross that finish line. second - run the whole thing, keep moving forward, change your pace but don't stop, don't stop moving your legs. third - stay within :30 seconds of your training pace minute mile average. Hitting one of these goals I would have taken as a huge win. Two? Absolutely. All three? The most wonderful undeniable feeling of power/strength/self-worth/self-belief/accomplishment/pride/love. I ran the hell out of that race. I ran that race for some many reasons -- for the people in my life who loved me through some of the hardest years of my existence, for those who supported my goals and my training, who believed in me from day 1. Most importantly, I ran that race for me.  I ran that race for those years it hurt to even walk, to even get off the couch.  I ran that race for every fear and doubt that had filled my head for the past 35-years of my life that no longer existed. Those fears and doubts that would no longer and could no longer take up room in my mind-space telling me I couldn't do something. I ran that race to show myself I could do it. I could fucking do it and nothing, no fear or doubt would ever stop me again. 

Making the day even sweeter, I saw the love of my life face light up every time I saw him along the way. Whose arms enclosed me at the end, holding me steady but allowing me to stand on my own knowing how much this race meant to me and how it was my moment to let go of all of the things I would no longer allow to stand in my way. I saw my amazing brother and sister-in-law come out from behind a small crowd of supporters at the halfway mark, cheering me on, taking my raincoat from me without hesitation as I quickly tossed it over the fencing before turning around to run back, who returned to the finish to hug me and tell me how proud they were when I came across. 

Completing 13.1 miles -- It may sound simple to some, who have been athletes or runners their whole lives. It may sound simple to some who have never let fear stop them from doing something they have always wanted to do. It may sound simple to some who did not spend years in pain, who could not bend and unbend their legs without wincing at the feeling piercing through their whole legs when they did this. But for me -- for someone who had never considered themselves an athlete or a runner, for someone who had let fear rule their world for far too long, who 2-years prior was crying in a medical office with very little hope left -- this was my moment. This moment would define the next 35-years of my life. This moment where I would choose courage over fear, choose belief over doubt, choose challenge over comfort. For me, these dualities will always exist side by side. Fear will always be a part of my life, doubt too. Even moments will exist where I will find myself wanting to shrink into the background over facing anything ahead of me. But the thing is, I had a choice on October 20, 2018 to face those doubts and fears and chose courage and belief instead, and I have a choice today and every day from here on out. I will allow myself to feel the fear but I will choose courage. I will recognize the doubt when it creeps in, but I will choose belief. I will notice when I am feeling like I'd rather be comfortable then face what lies before me, but I will choose the challenge instead. Not to say this is an easy or straight forward process. Even today, it takes some time to make the choice. But I will make these choices because in those moments between holding myself back and going for it, is this beautiful moment of clarity so crystal clear that it feels like no fear or doubt will ever hold be back again. That feeling envelops me completely from head to toe, from my heart to brain, leaving me simply at peace. This is something I plan to feel and believe in for next 35 years of my life. 13.1 miles changed my life so deeply and so thoroughly there is no going back to where I was before I crossed that finish line. 13.1 miles changed my life. 13.1 miles changed my life.....

Casey McCabe