A counselor, a business systems guru, or the author of Fix This Next for Healthcare Providers.
But that’s not all that I am…
"I'm going to need you to stop reading my diary and posting it, thanks."
"I am SCREAMING. This is LITERALLY what my therapist said to me!"
"I think this is something that a lot of people can relate to; I certainly can. The idea of being human 'beings' not human 'doings' has always resonated with me--and you talk about this. In our struggle to 'be' enough, we try to 'do' enough... but, like you said, that's not where the answers are."
"So brave. So raw and real. I think many of us who are successful have these feelings and think we are alone. Like we are somehow a fraud and we are waiting for everyone to see how we are failing."
"I found myself reading a lot of the book to myself in her southern accent."
"Like Glennon Doyle and Rachel Hollis, Kasey’s style is highly emotional and relatable. It is chock full of strong visuals with a touch of southern charm."
"I would describe the author as genuine and insightful and I would say that her approach and style is so relatable."
I saw myself at 9am on a Tuesday.
I had dark brown hair pulled back in a tight ponytail and matching eyes. I wore blue light glasses over my olive complexion. I looked tired. I recognized that look and it was more than tired, but I was unsure what to call it at that moment. Behind me was a built-in full of books, color-coded and aesthetically on point. The dark blues on my left and yellows on my right. I sat perfectly centered in front of them, looking into the computer, searching for answers from the person sitting on the other end.
I talked about my business’s organizational structure and delved out the details about how to bring on someone to take over the final say-sos and linchpin responsibilities. About halfway through my conversation, I said, “I have another question — Do you ever feel like you just don’t give a fuck?”
The women looking across from me just stared. Maybe she was in shock at my language.
I continued, “I watch YouTube most of the day, organize my drawers, and avoid all the things that I should be doing.”
On the other end of the computer, I heard a voice. It said, “Yes, I know exactly what that feels like, but I’d like to hear more.”
“Well, sometimes I feel like a fake. I say I don’t care what people think about me, but really, I do. I feel judged for being young and successful. I feel like I have something to prove to everyone and the image I have worked so hard to create feels more like a cage.”
The woman hummed as if she knew exactly what I felt.
“I have spent so much time learning how to speak properly, stand with good posture, and engage a crowd. I have focused so much of my attention on meeting the expectations of others that I have forgotten the ones I have for myself. I don’t even know who I am anymore.”
“I know exactly why you feel what you feel right now, Sara. You’ve worked so hard and you lost yourself along the way. It does not matter what you do from this point forward. If you don’t stay in this feeling for a while, and sort it out, you’ll never move through it. Sara, I know this is hard, but it is a gift you’ve been given. You’re at the right time in your life, in the right environment; you’ve created the space to do the work without meaning to, so that you can find yourself again. Find your joy, Sara. It’s there and it’s big. I can feel it.”
I was Sara just six months ago.
I’d built seven businesses and counting. I had money in the bank, I’d done big things; I knew I could do bigger things, but something was missing. I’d already done all the things I was supposed to, minus the failure of my first marriage. I was hellbent on becoming successful; hellbent on raising my child with all the things I hadn’t had, so I worked and I worked hard.
I built things. I created revenue streams, offers, residual income, passive income, and hard-earned income. I did it all with blinders on. I put them there because I thought they were necessary. I had to ward off everything that didn’t move me forward toward my professional and financial goals. It worked. I was successful. Before I knew it, ten years had passed, two more children, and things had settled. I was tired and wanted to take the blinders off because I wasn’t at a point in my life where I needed that intense focus anymore. I needed a break, and the work I had done up until that point carried us financially.
I had the time and space to look up, so I did. I asked myself, “Is this it?” Not in a selfish way, and not in an ungrateful way. I was grateful for the opportunity, for the chance to build what I built. I wouldn’t change anything up until then. But still, I thought there must be something else. I asked myself questions like, “Should there be more? I thought there would be more.” Not necessarily a tangible more, but a feeling, more. “Shouldn’t I feel something more?”
Yes. Yes, I should, so I must.
In just a few short months since that time, I saw that former me in her tired eyes and recognized myself in her unfulfillment. That voice she heard; that was me. But it was a different me. It was the me that had just tasted a small spoonful of joy. The me that started to recognize herself in the mirror again. The one that was on a journey of self-exploration, open to difficult conversations, and excited about the future. That voice she heard was the new me coming up, and I was going to pull the Sara who felt lost, right along with me.
I’ve spent my career with my head down, building systems and processes, making things run better and more efficiently. When I finally achieved my goal of having all my businesses run without me, I had the freedom to step back and evaluate my life. It was then that I realized
Once I made this discovery in myself, I started to recognize it in the women I serve. It broke my heart. I had spent years trying to help women find that same freedom, only to watch them go through the same sense of loss and wondering where the more they thought they’d find was.
What if every time we have an achievement we are still unfulfilled? What if the partner we find, the success we drive for, and the joy we expect still leaves us empty inside? What if we discover that no matter what we have and no matter what we accomplish, we will never be happy? It’s the life of quiet desperation that Henry David Thoreau identified. And is the unnecessary journey of countless women. This book fixes it.
Raised in a society of expected accomplishment - be an amazing mom, be an extraordinary partner, be an incredible executive - women have lost the one thing that will ever truly fulfill them: self-love.