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As a professional coach, I have the kinds of conversations that you wish your best friend was trained and willing to have with you: highly intuitive, no bullshit, and consistently relating to you as your best self.

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“Arms down by your sides, please.”

I released the death grip of my arms across my chest as I stood at the front of an unfamiliar conference room in a hotel in NYC, a million miles from home.

“Team, please write down your judgements about Carrie.”

I mentally scrolled through an inventory of my own familiar self-judgements, and wondered if any of mine would make my teammates’ lists, or if they would have their very own judge-y perceptions.

“Could you please stand still?”

I did my best to make my squirminess less apparent, although my heart continued to flutter as if a hummingbird had suddenly taken up residence inside my chest.

“Would you do us a favor and please take off your jacket?”

I cocked an eyebrow at the lead facilitator as I peeled away the soft, snuggly armor of my jacket. I looked out at the sea of 20-some faces of my fellow Life Coach trainees, locking eyes with a few. Some looked back blankly; others offered the gift of soft smiles and compassionate eyes. They had each had their turn at the front of the room already. I wondered if they were each secretly relieved that their turns had come and gone. I imagined they probably were.

“Introduce yourself to us, please.”

I shared a few safe, surface-y facts. Name: Carrie. Occupation: social worker-turned yoga teacher. Marital status: used to be. Likes: yoga, obviously. My dogs. Travel, far and wide.

“Team, what can you distinguish about who Carrie is ‘being?’

My coaching peers offered the following: Calm. Peace. Beauty. Grace.

And then: Sad. Guarded. Ashamed.

My eyes widened. My jaw dropped. Oh, hell. Here we go. How did they know?

The leaders sidled up to the front of the room. There were laser-sharp, bullseye questions (them). There were tears (me). There was slow, deliberate peeling off of metaphorical bandages from metaphorical wounds that I had been almost positive were already healed. More tears (me, again). And: honesty. Allowing myself to be raw and imperfect and seen. Recognition of my highest and best qualities, as well as all of the shit that’s in the way. Acceptance of myself, from myself and from others. Healing. Empowerment. Motivation. Awareness that a piece of my mission and service as Coach is this:

I am here to Be BOLD, for myself and for others, rather than to play a small game by rules that are not my own. I am here to Be BEAUTY, for myself and for others, rather than to disguise and minimize and hide my radiance. I am here to Be BADASS, for myself and for others, rather than continuing to apologize for refusing to live in complacency and mediocrity. I am here to CREATE and INSPIRE and SERVE.

How about YOU? Have you ever suspected that you are secretly a BOLD, BEAUTIFUL BADASS in disguise? If you feel yourself timidly raising your hand (or vigorously waving both arms in the arm and jumping up and down), answer the call and send me a note . Now accepting beautiful badass-in-disguise coaching clients who are ready to come out of hiding. It’s time.





  1. Mom says:

    Always! You’re always bold beautiful & even badass in my eyes & I’ll always love you for you.

  2. Meghan Sharron says:

    Thank you for sharing your bold & inspired self with the world through your coaching work – we are all better for it!

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