Embracing the Fall: A Journey of Self-Discovery and Resilience

Have you ever taken a fall out on a rooted trail or found yourself tumbling down a metaphorical rabbit hole? It stings, doesn’t it? And not just physically—it bruises your pride. It’s not supposed to happen, right?

When we were kids, falling was a daily occurrence, and we didn’t think much of it. The ground was closer, and our bodies were more forgiving. But somewhere along the line, falling became a source of embarrassment. We were expected to know how to avoid it, to catch ourselves if we tripped, and to blame any stumble on obstacles in our way.

Recently, I experienced a metaphorical fall that led me into a spiral of stressful thoughts. Earlier this year, I underwent a profound awakening—a monumental shift in consciousness that turned everything I thought I knew upside down. If you’ve ever had such an experience, you know how disorienting it can be.

My understanding of life and the life force that animates us all was drastically altered. This shift ushered in what I can only describe as a mountaintop experience: a month of unparalleled peace and wellbeing. My mind was completely quiet. The idea of binge eating felt absurd. I experienced a freedom I had never known and believed I would never binge again.
After years of struggling up the proverbial mountain, navigating endless switchbacks, sliding back in the mud, and falling off cliffs, it felt like I had finally found a path that propelled me effortlessly upward. It was as if a gondola had appeared out of nowhere, lifting me off a heavily rooted trail and into a peak experience. Day after day, I lived in this blissful state, feeling it was my new normal. The skies were always blue, the sun always shining, and only puffy white clouds drifted through my mind.

But this wasn’t a permanent state. The insight I gained was just a beginning—a glimpse of what’s possible. Life on the mountaintop isn’t sustainable for most. The air is thinner, and it’s lonely at such high altitudes of consciousness. Ignoring the option of the gondola, I returned to the rooted trail of my overactive mind and fell into a binge hole again. It wasn’t as severe as before—nothing broke, but there were bruises, and bandages were required.

Binge eating activates deep feelings of discouragement and shame in me. I thought I was cured, but it turns out I wasn’t. What now? If I can’t claim 100% freedom from binge eating, how can I help others overcome their unwanted habits? My mind raced with stressful thoughts. I didn’t tell anyone at first—shame and embarrassment kept me silent. I imagined my fellow hikers, with whom I had been trudging a wide but arduous path, expecting me to fail since I had taken a different route. When I finally shared my experience with them, I discovered they were rooting for my success all along.

Thankfully, I have an amazing coach who helped me see what I couldn’t on my own. She reminded me that perfection isn’t a prerequisite for being of service and that my struggles will likely only make me a better coach. In coaching, many set themselves up as experts, painting themselves into a corner of inauthenticity. Life is a journey, and the concept of arrival is a mirage. The last thing I want is to present a false image. Authenticity is crucial for my clients and for my own growth.

Life is unpredictable, ever-changing. We cannot map it out perfectly. Hindsight is 20/20, but the future remains a mystery, unfolding one step at a time.

In my enthusiasm, I got ahead of myself, claiming I was cured of binge eating. The truth is, I’m not out of the woods yet. I can’t promise a permanent mountaintop experience. But through my coaching, what is on offer is a deeper understanding, peace, freedom, and joy than you’ve probably ever experienced.

I still get caught up in stressful thinking, just like everyone else. I’m learning to accept this as part of the human experience and to take it less seriously. Each time it happens, I learn something new about myself, and my internal GPS recalculates. Yours does too.
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Thank you for joining me on this journey. Remember, falling is part of life. It’s not the fall that defines us, but how we rise and learn from it.