Somewhere Between the Questions

One of the things I've come to appreciate about these weekly questions is that they almost never take me where I think they're going to.

Every Sunday I ask a question on the podcast, and then I spend the rest of the week living with it before I sit down to write this reflection. I've learned not to rush to an answer because when I do, I usually end up writing what I think I should say instead of what I'm actually learning. If I simply stay curious and give myself enough time, the answer almost always becomes clear.

This week's question was, "What is your next step?"

When I recorded the podcast, I thought I already knew my answer. I was convinced this reflection would be about Becoming and where it's headed. I wanted to write about the Becoming Circle, opening the online community, recording conversations with guests, and how this work is slowly becoming much bigger than me sitting alone in my office writing books and recording podcasts. I still believe that's true. In fact, I think inviting more people into the conversation is one of the most important next steps for Becoming.

But that isn't where the question led me.

A few days after recording the podcast, I celebrated my forty-ninth birthday. Somewhere between celebrating another year of life and buying an air conditioner for my bedroom for the very first time, I realized I'd probably received a birthday present I wasn't especially excited about. Apparently menopause had decided to arrive right on schedule.

I'll be honest, I hadn't given menopause much thought before now. I knew about hot flashes and weight gain because those are the symptoms everyone talks about, but that was about the extent of my understanding. Then I started reading.

The list seemed endless. Sleep disruption. Brain fog. Joint pain. Muscle aches. Anxiety. Fatigue. Digestive issues. Mood changes. By the time I got to the part that said symptoms can last seven to ten years, I actually laughed out loud and thought, Come on... really?

As I kept reading, I realized that many of the things I'd been experiencing over the past several weeks suddenly made a lot more sense. The sleepless nights. Feeling too hot one minute and freezing the next. Waking up exhausted after what should have been a full night's sleep. Feeling like I wasn't quite myself.

Last weekend Dave and I spent the day at the Highland Games in Glengarry. It should have been one of those carefree summer days that you simply enjoy together, but if I'm being completely honest, I spent much of the day feeling uncomfortable. I hadn't slept well the night before, my stomach wasn't happy, and I couldn't seem to regulate my body temperature. At one point I looked around at all the people walking by and found myself wondering if they all felt this miserable too or if it was just me.

I remember saying to Dave, "I can't imagine that this is just how I'm supposed to feel for the rest of my life."

What I didn't say out loud was something much deeper.

As I sat there beside him, I found myself wondering if I was any fun to be around anymore.

Even writing those words surprises me because I'm not sure I've ever admitted them to myself before. I don't think that thought suddenly appeared because of one difficult day. I think it had been quietly sitting beneath the surface for a long time, and this week I simply became aware of it.

I've always been more reserved than outgoing. I'm usually the one thinking ahead, planning, paying attention, and making sure everyone else is okay. I'm not naturally spontaneous, and I've often wondered if I think too much or too deeply. I don't actually believe those qualities are weaknesses. In many ways they've become some of my greatest strengths. They're the reason I coach the way I coach, write the way I write, and ask the questions I ask.

But I also know that not everyone lives there. Sometimes I wonder if I'm simply too thoughtful or too intense for some people. Sitting there that afternoon, not feeling well physically, another question quietly emerged. If I don't feel good most of the time, if I'm always hurting somewhere or tired or recovering from something, why would anyone want to spend their time with me?

I never asked Dave because I already knew what his answer would be. He loves me exactly as I am, and that has never really been in question. The real question was whether I still saw myself that way.

As soon as the thought crossed my mind, I realized it wasn't really about that day at the Highland Games. It wasn't even about menopause. It was an old belief that had quietly found a new reason to introduce itself.

As I sat with all of those thoughts, I realized I had quietly come full circle. The two questions I'd been carrying with me all week suddenly found their way back into the conversation.

Do you trust yourself?

What is your next step?

The answer to the first question hadn't changed at all. If anything, I trusted myself more than ever. But I also realized that trusting myself now meant something a little different than it did a week ago. It wasn't just about trusting my decisions. It was about trusting my body. Trusting that it isn't working against me simply because it's changing. Trusting that it's communicating with me the best way it knows how, and believing that my responsibility is to stop fighting it long enough to really listen to what it's been trying to tell me.

As I continued reading, I found myself looking at the different treatment options. Hormone replacement therapy was one of the first things that came up, and I completely understand why many women choose that path. Every woman's experience is different, and there isn't one right answer for everyone.

But one sentence caught my attention. It talked about how nutrition, movement, stress management, sleep, and other lifestyle changes can significantly improve many menopausal symptoms.

I smiled because I realized I'd already made my decision before I ever finished reading.

I've never been someone who wants to put medication into my body unless it's absolutely necessary. That isn't a judgment of anyone else's choices. It's simply the way I've always approached my own health.

The more I thought about it, the more obvious my next step became. I want to return to the basics that I've spent years teaching other people. I want to pay closer attention to my nutrition, make sleep a priority again, continue strength training, reduce inflammation where I can, and become more intentional about the daily choices that either help my body or make its job harder. Not because I'm trying to turn back the clock, but because I genuinely believe my body deserves every opportunity to do what it was designed to do.

As I continued writing, I realized something else that caught me completely off guard.

I've said many times that I feel rooted in the season of Expression right now. I'm writing, recording podcasts, building the Becoming Circle, and putting my work into the world. Yet somewhere in the middle of this reflection, I became aware of something I'd never really put words to before.

It reminded me that the Becoming Framework isn't something we move through once and leave behind. It's a circle. Even though I feel firmly planted in Expression, Awareness still continues to show up. Every time I become aware of something new, I'm invited back into Alignment to decide what I'm going to do with that awareness before I continue expressing it in my life. I don't leave one season behind and move on to the next. They continue working together, deepening one another as life unfolds.

As I finished my Foundations Habit Journal this morning, I found myself making a few adjustments to my long-term goals and rewriting some of the daily habits I want to focus on over the next several weeks. The interesting thing is that my goals haven't really changed. I still want to feel strong. I still want to have energy. I still want to enjoy this life I'm creating with the people I love.

What's changing is how I'm going to get there.

The more I sat with this question, the more I realized that I don't actually have this all figured out yet, and maybe I don't need to. I don't know exactly what changes are going to make the biggest difference. I don't know which foods my body is going to respond well to or what this new season is ultimately going to ask of me. What I do know is that I have a place to begin.

I know how to return to the habits and foundations that I've spent years teaching other people. I know how to slow down and pay attention instead of simply pushing through. I know how to become curious instead of frustrated, and I know how to make one intentional change, observe what happens, and then allow that experience to guide the next step.

Looking back now, I can't help but smile because this reflection ended up being nothing like I expected. I thought my next step would be another project or another way of growing Becoming. Instead, the question led me back to my own foundation. Before I continue building the work I've created, I need to continue caring for the person who's creating it.

What strikes me the most is that, if I'm being completely honest, I've felt a little off for the past week or two. Yes, some of that was physical. I wasn't sleeping well, I didn't feel like myself, and I knew something had shifted. But looking back now, I don't think it was only the physical symptoms that were affecting me.

I think I also felt unsettled because I didn't know what my next step was.

Not with Becoming. That part feels surprisingly clear right now. I know where I'm headed with the podcast, the Becoming Circle, the books, and the community I'm trying to build.

But me...

I didn't know what my next step was.

And I think there's something exhausting about carrying questions when you don't yet have a direction. It's not that we need all the answers. It's that our minds keep searching for somewhere to begin. They keep trying to make sense of what's changing.

That's what this reflection gave me. Not the answers, but it gave me a direction.

As strange as it sounds, I already feel lighter because of that. Nothing has changed physically since I started writing. I'm still standing in the same season of life. I'm still figuring out what my body needs. But I don't feel helpless anymore because I know what I'm going to do next.

I'm going to return to the basics.

I'm going to pay attention to what my body is telling me instead of fighting against it. I'm going to become curious enough to learn everything I can about this new season of life, make thoughtful changes, and then let those experiences guide whatever comes after that.

I have a feeling this isn't the end of the story. If anything, I think it's the beginning of another one.

I'm certain this season is going to lead me to new questions. It's going to make me curious about how our bodies change as we age, why they respond differently than they once did, and what it really means to care for ourselves well through every stage of life. I don't know where those questions will lead yet, but I've learned enough over the past several months not to rush ahead looking for all the answers.

I only need to know my next step.

Maybe that's what taking back control really means. Not controlling everything that happens to us, because life simply doesn't work that way, but taking responsibility for the things that are still ours to influence. The choices we make. The habits we practice. The way we respond when life invites us into a season we didn't see coming.

And maybe that's another gift these weekly questions continue to give me.

They don't always give me the answers I was looking for.

But they almost always give me enough clarity to take the next step.

For today, that's enough.

The rest will reveal itself the same way it always has—one question, one reflection, and one intentional choice at a time.

Becoming, always returning,

Carrie

Founder, Total Transformation

NBC-HWC Health Coach

ACE Personal Trainer, & Behavior Change Specialist

PN Level 1 Nutrition Coach

Mental Well-Being Certified Fitness Professional