Bonus Lesson #14: Being Blindsided Isn’t Always Bad.

“Traveling therapist jobs” was my daily google search 14 years ago. 

Almost out of grad school - I was eager, inexperienced, barely paying rent, and a little out of touch with the reality of the job market. 

Fast forward a decade or so, and you would’ve found me in the middle of an epic 5-week solo road trip. Depending on the exact day, you might’ve seen me skiing in the Rockies, summiting one of America’s most dangerous hikes, looking out over the cliffs of Big Sur, hugging Redwoods, or soaking up the solitude of a remote island off the Washington coast. 

All of this - scheduled around Meredith’s divorce update, Sandra’s intake session, Fionna’s promotion that would require her to move to the East coast, Jake’s existential crisis, and an emergency session for the part of Becky that still wanted to die. 

Some days were heavy. Many were exhausting. It required expert level scheduling skills that I imagine only parents of six kids in multiple sports are able to perfect.  

But given my repeated search history from over a decade ago, I bet you’re not surprised to hear the words coming out of my mouth on a regular basis were:

“I can’t imagine ever not wanting to do this.”

I was living my dream career. 

So why then, less than a year and half later, was I out on the hike that ultimately led to burning my practice to the ground?

I guess maybe there had been some foreshadowing for this bonus lesson if I’d been paying attention…

Trusting yourself doesn’t mean you have all the answers. And the “next right path” isn’t always what you’d imagined it would be. Often, there’s more at play than what you can see close up. But when you have a strong sense of trust in yourself, you’re able to see the magic in the blindside. To see it as divine redirection. 

When I decided to close my therapy practice, I needed something to grasp on to. Anything really. Anything I could use to justify to myself why I was essentially taking a torch to the new financial security I’d grown accustomed to.

So I clung to the only thing outside of individual therapy that made any practical sense. Group work. I’d been offering retreats for over a year at that point. They were bringing income into my business. There was a waitlist to join the next rounds. Doubling down on groups made logical and financial sense. 

This is what led to me leading a group of 16 women into their next Self-Trust portal, just two days after I officially closed down my therapy practice. Followed by sending out 64 care packages over the next five months, continuing to run this online program while on my celebratory international trip, building out an entire backend system for evergreen online courses (twice), planning the next season of two retreat programs, and dreaming up seven other versions of group offerings I was excited to bring to fruition. 

I found myself doing way too many things. I joined a business mastermind, launched a Substack, created a Pinterest page, began networking, restructured my email list, entertained the idea of creating a short film with my husband, began writing a book about motherhood & indecision, and maybe most shocking - dabbled in TikTok.

Everything Everywhere All at Once is a good movie, but a pretty terrible way to live life. Thankfully, it only took getting hit by a car for me to realize it. 

Don’t worry, it really wasn’t that bad. Hours later though, I did find myself typing into the search bar, “spiritual significance of being hit by a car.” 

Google didn’t need to tell me I was doing too much. I already knew. 

I knew I needed to slow down. And if I wanted to do anything well, I knew I needed to do less. This led to a series of Radically Honest conversations with my husband and the reluctant conclusion to focus on just *one* thing in my business. 

“Do one thing well” became the mantra. 

This next part is fuzzy in my memory. I don’t remember exactly how we landed on “the one thing” to do well being the promotion of a little Substack series I’d written on lessons I learned from being a therapist. It definitely wouldn’t have been the choice if immediate financial security or focusing on something I was already confident in were at all part of the decision making process. 

But my husband’s response to reading the lessons was surprising… and added a little jet fuel to the whole thing. He pushed for the series to have a longer shelf life, telling me he finally understood what I’d been doing all these years as a therapist. Neither of us knew exactly what that meant. And publishing it as a book was not Plan A, B, or C. 

Somehow though, the mantra worked. Three months after the conscious decision to put all other ideas on hold and only focus on promoting the 13 lessons series, I guess I can call myself a writer now? And if you’re reading this, maybe even an author too? 🤯

Talk about being blindsided. Or maybe, we can just call it a plot twist. 

Recently, I was catching up with an old friend. Our conversation had me reflecting on what my days look like now. Early mornings without an alarm, daily tea & writing sessions, morning card pulls with our girls, leaning into creative urges, prioritizing time in nature, connecting with my husband in the middle of the day, and relishing in time flexibility. 

All of this - in between “Doubt” telling me I’m a horrible writer, “Fear” telling me I’m never going to make any money, and activation of all the old abandonment wounds, difficulty receiving, and fear of being seen.

Some days are heavy. Most are exhausting. It still requires expert level scheduling at times. But I’m guessing you won’t be surprised to read the words I often find myself saying once again, possibly drenched in their own foreshadowing:

“I can’t imagine ever not wanting to do this.”