What I’m Experiencing Right Now
It’s coming in waves.
And I’m riding them.
Today, I kept hearing this phrase: get your shit together.
It wasn’t aimed at me.
Or maybe it was.
I remembered I once did a training called How I Got My Shit Together. Then I saw one of the Business “Sharks” on TV say, “If I see an entrepreneur and they’ve let things go and life is hard, it’s always something personal. So get your mind right and get your shit together.”
That hit.
It was visceral.
It made me cry a little.
Over the last four years, I’ve been in a quiet struggle. Everyone who watches me sees strength and confidence…They see me having my shit together. They don’t see what’s going on underneath. They don’t see the silent battles, the identity deaths, the constant shedding that makes you feel like you’re having an existential crisis every three months.
On the surface, my main character’s role is a weight loss and health coach.
But underneath… I’m more.
I noticed long ago that people’s lives would change on a grand scale after hiring me as their “trainer” Those same people still message me today, years later, and say things like:
“Casey, you were the catalyst. Some of our conversations had me in tears, questioning my existence. I remember the talks way more than the workouts. That’s what I really needed.”
These people are incredible.
Most of them didn’t just have massive glow-ups. They left toxic relationships. Started businesses. Became wealthy. Some sent letters saying they wouldn’t be here on Earth if they hadn’t found my work.
Like… what the actual fuck.
Some finally got pregnant after being told it wasn’t possible. Others found love, autoimmune disease went dormant, landed their dream job, or felt happy for the first time after being written off by healers and medical professionals.
Back then, I didn’t think much of it. I just know I started taking on clients who wanted more than weight loss. I remember offering Zoom sessions to help them “get their shit together.”
Powerful people.
Army Rangers.
PhDs.
High-level C-suite professionals.
Business owners.
Celebrities.
And still, I thought of myself as JUST a health coach.
I had no idea I was operating way beyond my scope of practice.
I remember reading a book that changed me. It made me realize I needed to raise my prices and create new offers. So I did. I came home, fired up the mac and sent out the email! I created an offer, $3K for 90 days and $10K for a year, never once stopping to think, Wow, Casey… you’re actually a performance and life coach who specializes in fitness.
Not until I found the marketing world did I learn how to package myself. And even then… I hit a wall.
What I didn’t understand until years later was that outside coaching input was like poison to me. My best work comes from being deeply tapped into my internal creative source. That might sound woo, but creatives get it. The second I start following rigid rules and “shoulds,” I lose myself, my health, my magic, my money. Everything.
But I’ll never forget my first real marketing coach. The ones before him were fakes and wannabes… but that’s what I was a match for at the time. I hired them because I went against what I knew and let myself be persuaded by someone else. I didn’t trust my own inner knowing.
So I shelled out the money without knowing what “good” or “bad” coaching even looked like. I just knew I was hungry to make real money.
I’m glad I paid that $10K, though. It taught me more about myself than anything else. I took it as a win even though I failed miserably. A long time ago, I decided I would always pay to learn and that no experience is a failure. That I can walk away with a lesson without hardening my heart, without bitterness, knowing it was more about me than who I paid.
When I finally found my favorite marketing coach, the one I actually liked the most, he seemed so angry all the time. He was anything but flow state… He looked at my offer and said, “This sucks. It’s way too much. You need to simplify.”
That felt impossible.
He aggressively started drilling me with questions, “Why do people come to you? And what result do they get?”
The answer was obvious. They all came for weight loss. They all got results, and every single one said, “I came for weight loss and got so much more.”
And there I was… panicking.
Calling myself “just a weight loss coach” felt like cutting off the people I could actually help. Weight loss didn’t capture the deeper work that was changing lives on a soul level.
An identity crisis doesn’t even cover what I was experiencing at the moment.
But I did it anyway. I slapped a label on myself and packaged it as “the weight loss industry.”
“I help career women lose weight without cardio.”
That left out men which made me sad, because I loved working with men. I hated segmenting them out. And it brought in stay-at-home moms and every woman on the internet struggling with weight.
Which was… a lot for me.
Let me be honest.
I fucking hated working with just anyone trying to lose weight.
I quickly realized there were women I didn’t care about helping and others who felt like an honor to walk beside. I judged myself hard for years, feeling so bad because I didn’t like working with everyone. This transition also brought in poor people…not poor financially, but poor in emotional bandwidth and intelligence. Victims of circumstance. Always blaming. Always saying money was the reason they couldn’t move.
Same mentality with certain nurses, teachers, and social workers.
These people never found me before I became a “marketer”
It sucked.
Before I wrapped myself in a pretty marketing bow, I attracted competitors, career women, and very few women who needed their husbands’ permission to grow.
When I was just Casey being Casey, I attracted different people.
But I was also broke.
Back then, I worked with anyone who could pay me. I even feel bad admitting that stay-at-home moms or “regular women” are less-than. I don’t mean that. I just didn’t understand women who didn’t have their own money. Or women who had to ask permission to invest in themselves, like personal growth, were signing away their firstborn child.
I wasn’t used to that.
The people I was used to working with came ready. They were already reading self-help books. Invested in themselves. Had a different mindset.
Those are my people.
High-level corporate. Entrepreneurs. Hustlers. Creatives. Business owners. Military. High performers.
We think alike. I understand them.
But I wanted money. And I had money trauma.
So I did what every hungry entrepreneur does: I followed the strategy of the person with more money than me. Because if they had more money, they must know better than me. Or so I thought.
I never stopped to ask if our values aligned. Or if they were actually operating from flow. Most weren’t.
In fifteen years, I’ve found maybe one or two mentors who truly do whatever the fuck they want and make bank. It’s rare. I’m grateful they showed up online. My life changed because of them.
Back to selling out to make money.
Yes, I was working with people I’d never give two seconds of my time and attention to. But when my bank account started filling up, wildest-dreams numbers-type shit… I told myself this was just part of it.
Money is supposed to be hard, right?
I grew up believing you do whatever it takes. Choosing how I’d make money and trusting that I’d be okay if I turned down business felt like a fantasy world I didn’t yet trust.
But soon would.
Years flew by. I started making real money. $400K. $800K. $1M. Close to $2M.
And I was exhausted.
Years of “doing whatever it takes” trauma piled up. I was tired of the mask. Tired of clients who drained me.
Like… you can’t exercise or eat breakfast because your kid is sick? Your parents went to the hospital, and you didn’t get your work done? blew your diet… and think you just need to do more inner child work? Are you fucking kidding me?
I saw the full spectrum of humanity. And honestly, I got disgusted. I got dragged down trying to save people who didn’t want to grow. Most weren’t a match. They had no growth mindset. They wanted me to fix them.
The weak feminine energy triggered the hell out of me because it reminded me of my mom.
It was a mess.
Twelve years in, it became clear: women don’t actually want weight loss. I was sick of pretending I was selling a magic hack just to get them in the door and make money. Most wouldn’t do the inner work anyway. They obsessed over macros and quit the second life happened.
And yet some needed very little guidance and changed their entire lives.
Those were my people.
So I offered deeper packages. Identity. Patterns. Relationships. Parenting. Money.
That work lit me up.
But I was at a new threshold
I ended certain programs and added new ones. Some followed. Some didn’t. That hurt. I was overspending. Overbuilding. Using the exterior structure to prop up something internal, all to hang on to an old identity that I had outgrown.
Sales teams. Closers. Setters. Six calls a day. Life on top of it all.
And finally, I saw it.
The thing that pissed me off most about my “shit clients” was the same thing I was avoiding.
The internal work.
I had chased money, strategy, systems and lost myself getting the result.
I thought I was doing the inner work. Trauma. Inner child. Shamans. Plant Medicine. Journaling.
But I missed the simplest truth.
The work was this:
Write.
Be in nature.
Be still.
Do the boring shit.
Repeat what works.
Trust my body.
Flow isn’t fancy. It’s boring. It’s clear.
I used to be addicted to urgency. Pressure. Fixing. Hypervigilance. I didn’t know ease. Or trust. Or play. And when I felt it, I braced for impact.
All that did was erase me.
Now, I’m asking different questions.
Will I ever feel safe for long?
Will this always live in my body?
Or is this just being human?
For now, I choose to believe it’s human.
Because I’m tired of wishing I felt different.
I grieved. I went to therapy. I did DMT and ayahuasca and still got lost. I outsourced my intuition to psychics, religion, seers, and coaches, and I ignored my own signals until I crashed.
Now I listen sooner.
I still get coached. But with discernment. Less input. Clear signal.
I trust myself more.
I’ve come to terms with the fact that fitness is how people find me.
Business is what makes them stay.
Depth is what changes their life.
This season is messy. Honest. Human.
My wish is that we stop bypassing ourselves with purity culture, religion, spirituality, or exercise and learn how to stay.
With ourselves.
Through sickness and health.
Thick and thin.
No numbing. No escaping.
Just coming home.
