Lost & Found: A journey back to self...
...through the vital missing piece that all of my self-help books failed to mention.
There was a point in my life that I slowly made the transition from avid fiction reader, to self-help book connoisseur.
As with every pathway, it was in no way a linear transition.
It began slowly… swapping out vampire lore for parenting books here and there.
But once I officially cracked the door open with my first true personal growth book (non-parenting related) and caught a peek of what was inside… let’s just say that I was most eager to bust through the door entirely.
I found however that opening the door, viewing all of its contents with eager eyes, and actually crossing the threshold into the new room… well those are two different things entirely. It felt like having a portal right in front of you that you can see leads to somewhere extremely beautiful, a place that you want to be most desperately, but not knowing how to physically step through it.
That realization remains most interesting to me. Here I am, mounds and mounds of self-help books and years later, clearly seeing how useless they all were without the final missing piece.
What good is seeing how great you can be, if you don’t know how to actually implement true change?
What is the missing link that breathes all of this knowledge into life?
At the time, it was something that I just couldn’t put my finger on… I read the books, enjoyed them, took the knowledge to heart and tried, desperately, to put it into action. Unfortunately, nothing never quite seemed to truly stick.
It was like my view kept getting better and better, yet farther and farther out of reach with every book that I read.
I see it.
I like it.
I want it.
But, I can’t reach it.
I developed an insatiable thirst for growth. Trying and trying to quench my longing with the knowledge these books contained, I continued to drown myself in them endlessly. Hoping, each time, that I’d finally found the one that contained the key to implementing it all.
Yet, the more I read, the farther away the possibility of reaching and becoming my ideal self seemed.
Then, in an eloquently winding and nearly torturous way, I discovered coaching.
During my dark-night-of-the-soul, I’d started a small Etsy shop. I made the most beautiful hair bows and genuine stone bracelets for little girls. They were truly gorgeous and blew out the competition in both pricing and aesthetic. Sadly, and much to my dismay, it never took off to the level I knew it was capable of.
I can see clearly now that that was God/The Universe allowing me to enjoy the hobby in the season that it so greatly served me, while protecting and redirecting me to my true calling, by not allowing the level of success that I knew that business was capable of reaching. Protecting me from what I thought I wanted and needed for something much greater— thank God!
A beautiful story on its own. But, I digress. It was because of this small shop that I met a handful of women in perfect sequence that ultimately let me to attend an event that I knew I had no business being a part of: The Champagne Society.
I wasn’t a real “working mom” as I saw it, I definitely wasn’t the successful entrepreneur of a large business, nor was I part of the “Old Greenville” club of women that would primarily be attending this event. Still, I felt called.
I would absolutely be the sore thumb and black sheep of the evening, I knew that for certain. Still, I had some bizarre and unexplainable knowing that I needed to attend this event. I knew it would be insanely uncomfortable. I knew those weren’t my people and truthfully, I was afraid. But when I couldn’t shake the feeling in my core, I bought a ticket and prepared to bite the bullet.
It was exactly as I anticipated. I felt completely out of place and floundered hopelessly in conversations the entire evening. The majority of the women in attendance had arrived together, already in the safety of their clicks and I was completely stag. The only woman I knew at that event, the one who had invited me, was co-hosting it. Understandably, she did not have time to hold my hand on that evening much less say anything other than “hi,” in passing to me in front of the profound group of worthy women before her so I put on my brave face and stuck it out alone and afraid.
There amongst it all, I witnessed the most beautiful little fairy drifting through the room that evening. Making her way, very pregnant and absolutely glowing, up to the stage, she settled in and sat amongst the panel of women. I realized at some point that this was the woman who was in charge of the event; the Champagne Society founder.
Every time she spoke, I felt less alone. When she shared, I felt connected to something bigger than myself. I enjoyed the panel of that evening immensely but when it was over, I still ran out that building as fast as possible.
It wasn’t for me, I knew that… but something about this woman I couldn’t shake. I followed her on social media and the months passed.
“What the heck is a podcast?” I wondered to myself. (Bless my heart y’all. I mean truly.)
I clicked the link and discovered that it was in fact audio. Something you could listen to in the car that felt in part like having a private conversation with a friend… an interesting platform for listening to wisdom or stories of your choice.
Neat.
I downloaded her very first introductory episode and that was that. I found myself listening to every episode as quickly as she’d drop them. Once was never enough. I found more wisdom in them each time I listened so they played on my car for months on repeat.
I found my self shaking my head in agreement and screaming, “Yes! OMG! Yes to all these things they are so true and I feel them so deeply.”
It felt like being seen, for the first time in years.
It felt like being understood by someone who actually GOT IT.
And surprisingly, it felt like being held in the most loving way by a complete stranger.
I don’t quite recall the exact order of events here because COVID left such a blur on 2020 for me… but somewhere amongst the quarantines, fear, and masks, God gifted me with a startling and glorious redirection.
I received a text out of the blue one evening, from someone that I’d spent a decade of my life dedicated to loving & serving selflessly, telling me that our friendship was done.
We weren’t fighting. Nothing crazy had gone down… it was just a true, out-of-the-blue WTF slap-in-the-face moment.
In the aftermath of that loss, I went on a profound inner journey.
I grieved for a time and, little by little, came to see the reality of what that relationship had actually been. Removed so far from it, I could finally see the abuse I’d endured. With my eyes finally wide open, with the gift of time, my grief turned to relief— I was so thankful God had protected me in a way that I’d been in capable of doing myself.
Then, I took the time, for the first time in a long time, to pause long enough to look around me and take a good look at the life I’d created.
They say you can’t come home again.
Sadly, I think I really believed that.
When I finally paused and took stock of everything around me…I realized that I was completely lost. I stood so far from where I’d started, I had no idea how to find my way back. After spending so many years of my life showing up inauthentically in every area of my life because I was desperate to please everyone…living to try to be the version of Carrie that each of them wanted of me… all completely different, I had no idea who I truly was anymore.
What’s worse, is even when I’d vaguely remember, I didn’t feel safe enough to truly be her. I was too addicted to the “safety” of my lies. I thought that I needed show up for everyone in the way they want me to, or I wouldn’t be worthy of showing up at all.
What’s hilariously ironic about the way I was living, and what I was doing, was that by continually showing up as this fake version that I thought they wanted, I was driving the people I cared about most farther and father away.
I’d lost myself… I’d lost someone I considered to be a dear, lifelong friend, and was on the brink of losing my husband too.
While I was navigating the waves in this is storm of awakenings, Gervase began taking private coaching clients. I KNEW immediately that it was the next right step for me.
The timing of my world being flipped upside down and me landing face first on the pavement, completely lost, coinciding with Gervase sending down an outstretched hand to pull me back onto my feet cannot be ignored.
It was a miraculous gift that I will forever be grateful for.
Had I not been so desperate. Had I not been so lost and at the height of my ‘suffering threshold’… I would have continued on this path of complete self destruction, too afraid to plunge into a coaching container.
Her hand was right there, all I had to do was reach out and take it. But somehow that final battle proved to be the most difficult.
Why was it so hard to take the plunge into therapy?
I fought my inner knowing that it was the right step, and most desired choice, tooth and nail because I was convinced that I wasn’t worthy and I was afraid of what people would think.
Invest in my children? OF COURSE!
Invest in something to hang in my closet… makes sense.
Invest in… my soul?…
Who the hell do I think I am to toss money away on something for me that I can’t feel, touch, hold or see?
These were the real, crazy, thoughts that I battled against.
But at the time, they didn’t feel crazy. I felt insane for considering spending actual money on a coach.
Although I have no true experience with traditional therapy, I was immediately drawn to this coaching opportunity. I already knew how lit up and safe this woman made me feel simply from listening to her podcast. I could only imagine what could come from an actual session.
Coaching though… what was it? It seemed to be deeper than my vague understanding of traditional therapy… more than someone lightly asking, “how does that make you feel?”
Boy was I right.
Working with the right coach changed everything for me.
Little by little, session by session, and tissue box by tissue box, we began to peel back all of the intricate layers of: me.
We broke down the stories I’d been telling myself for years…
We took fresh eyes to the subliminal judgements I’d held over myself and others…
We dug down into my habitual self distractive behaviors that I knew existed but had been incapable of rewriting alone.
We got to the core of every lie I’d been clinging to…
We slowly removed each and every mask that I’d been wearing to the world…
Little by little, we dug deeper and deeper until we finally got back to: Carrie.
It was hard.
It was painful.
It was freeing.
It was scary.
It was wild.
It was healing.
It was needed.
It felt like finally coming home again.
It was hands down the best decision I’ve ever made in my life. That is not an understatement.
There were so many things that I didn’t even realize I’d been holding on to that had formed a significant impact on the foundation of my being (and not in healthy ways). It took a loving, un-judgmental witness to show me what I’d been overlooking & allowing to consume me all along.
Together, with Gervase as my mirror and my North, we ventured onward and inward for two years.
Uncovering and healing.
Tearing down and building up.
Crying and laughing.
Collapsing and growing.
Together, we did the work.
That was the piece I’d been missing all along: inner healing.
Tearing down the lies, cleaning the b.s. away, we cleared the foundation my real truth to emerge. Not the ‘truths’ I’d be conditioned to uphold, not the ‘expectations’ I felt that I needed to meet because of my Southern culture… together we unmasked, Carrie.
So that’s it. If you feel that you’ve been in a season of stagnant energy and cannot seem to break through to the next level, I absolutely recommend that you find a coach who you connect with, and trust. Allow them to hold space for you while you navigate the wild waters of your inner-healing journey together. The missing key, it turns out, is doing the dirty, inner-work.
I've included a link below to my coach's Podcast & website.
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