Yes. I trust Myself.
- Carrie Woodcock
- Jul 29
- 6 min read
This morning I walked into my garden carrying a new hummingbird feeder.
For the last couple of months, I've been trying to capture a picture of one of the hummingbirds that visits my flowers. If you've ever watched one, you know they're almost impossible to photograph. They're fast, unpredictable, and never seem to stay still long enough. More mornings than I can count, I've stood quietly in my garden with my camera, hoping this would be the day I finally caught one.
For my birthday, Dave gave me a hummingbird feeder with a camera built right into it because he knows me well enough to understand that it wasn't really about the feeder. It was about giving me another chance to capture something that has become meaningful to me.
This morning, as I walked outside to fill it, one was already waiting. It hovered nearby while I finished setting everything up, almost as if it was patiently reminding me that breakfast was running late. The moment I stepped away, it flew to the feeder, and for the first time, I captured the picture I'd been trying to get for years.
Standing there in the stillness of the garden, surrounded by flowers, I couldn't help but think how perfectly that moment reflected the week I'd just had.
There is something almost ironic about spending an entire week recording a podcast that asks, Do you trust yourself?only to realize that life has quietly been asking you the very same question. Not as something to teach, but as something to live.
When I chose that question for this week's podcast, I thought I knew where the conversation was going. I imagined talking about confidence, resilience, and learning to believe in ourselves again. I had no idea that before I ever finished recording the episode, I would spend the entire week answering the question myself.
The truth is, this wasn't a week filled with noteworthy decisions. It was a week filled with ordinary ones.
Wednesday morning I almost convinced myself to skip my weekly reflection because I was tired and running behind. No one would have known if I'd waited until later, but I would have known. So I published it before leaving for work because, somewhere along the way, I realized that keeping promises to myself matters just as much as keeping promises to anyone else.
I also delayed recording the podcast, but not because I was avoiding it. I wanted to be fully present for that conversation. I wanted to sit quietly in my studio, light the candles, and give the question the attention it deserved. Looking back, I don't see that as breaking consistency. I see it as honoring the work.
My birthday arrived in the middle of all of this, and I found myself surrounded by reminders of just how fortunate I am. There were thoughtful texts, phone calls, flowers from my mom and Lisa, a walk with Nicki, dinner with Dave, Will, and Kali, and even a song from the members at the Drop-In Center that made me smile. Every conversation reminded me that I have extraordinary people in my life.
As I looked around my kitchen this weekend, covered in flowers and cards, I found myself thinking about how easy it would be to call myself lucky.
The truth is, I don't think that's the right word.
If we're talking about luck, there have been seasons of my life when I would have described myself as incredibly unlucky. Life has brought its share of heartbreak, disappointment, loss, and uncertainty. None of us get through life without those chapters.
What I do have, though, is a life that has been built intentionally.
Over the years, I've learned to know myself. I've learned what brings me joy and what drains my energy. I've learned that authentic relationships are worth investing in and that healthy boundaries don't push people away—they create space for the relationships that matter most to grow.
When I look at the people in my life today, I don't see luck. I see years of choosing honesty over people-pleasing, connection over performance, and authenticity over trying to become who I thought everyone else wanted me to be.
None of that happened overnight, and it certainly didn't happen by accident.
As I reflected on everything that had happened over the course of the week, I realized something I hadn't expected. I thought this podcast was going to be about confidence, but it wasn't. It was about integrity.
Every small decision became an opportunity to let my actions reflect what I already knew to be true. I say Becoming matters, so I showed up. I say my relationships matter, so I communicated honestly. I say this work deserves my best, so I gave it my best.
Somewhere in the middle of all those ordinary decisions, I realized I wasn't building confidence at all. I was strengthening the relationship I have with myself. Every time my actions reflected what I already knew to be true, that relationship grew a little stronger.
I think that's what self-trust really is.
It's not believing you'll never experience doubt. It's not believing you'll always know exactly what to do. It's knowing that even when life feels uncertain, you'll continue acting in alignment with your values. Every time you do, you reinforce something that can't be given to you by anyone else. You deepen your trust in yourself.
On my birthday, one of my closest friends asked if I spend time visualizing what Becoming will become.
I smiled and said, "No. I don't have to."
Not because I know exactly what the future holds, but because I know this is the work I'm supposed to be doing. I don't need to convince myself of that anymore. I already believe it.
As I begin my forty-ninth year, I don't feel like I'm chasing the life I want anymore. I feel like I'm living it.
This week reminded me that self-trust isn't something that suddenly appears one day. It's built quietly through hundreds of ordinary decisions that no one else ever sees. It's built every time we choose to act in alignment with what we know to be true, even when it would be easier not to.
Maybe that's why the hummingbird felt so significant this morning.
For months I stood in the garden trying to capture one. This morning, I simply showed up, slowed down, and paid attention. It was already there, waiting.
The more I thought about it, the more I realized that maybe the hummingbird wasn't the gift at all.
Maybe the gift was everything else.
The flowers sitting on my kitchen table. The birthday cards. The messages that kept coming throughout the day. My mom stopping by with flowers and a beautiful card. Lisa surprising me with flowers. A walk with Nicki. Dinner, a movie, and laughter with Dave, Will, and Kali. A song from the members at the Drop-In Center that made me smile from ear to ear. So many reminders that I am surrounded by people who know me, encourage me, and love me.
As grateful as I am for every one of those moments, I kept coming back to the same thought.
People might call me lucky.
I don't.
That doesn't mean I take any of it for granted. Quite the opposite. I am deeply grateful for every relationship in my life. But when I look around at the people who have become part of my story, I don't see random chance. I see years of intentional choices.
I've spent years learning who I am. I've spent years discovering what brings me joy and what no longer serves me. I've learned that relationships flourish when we show up authentically, communicate honestly, and invest in them consistently. I've also learned that not every relationship is meant to last forever, and that's okay too.
The life I'm living today didn't happen because everything always worked out. It didn't happen because I got lucky. If we're talking about luck, there were many seasons when I felt anything but lucky.
It happened because I kept becoming.
Little by little, decision by decision, conversation by conversation, I've built a life that feels deeply aligned with the person I want to be.
That doesn't mean it's perfect. It means it's authentic.
And I wouldn't trade that for anything.
As I begin this next year of my life, I feel incredibly grateful—not just for the birthday wishes, the flowers, the hummingbird, or the beautiful weekend I was given, but for the quiet realization that this life is no longer something I'm hoping to create.
It's the life I'm living.
If this week is any indication of what lies ahead—and I genuinely believe that it is—then I'm excited for whatever comes next. Not because I know exactly where the path will lead, but because I trust the person walking it.
Yes. I trust myself.
Becoming, always returning,
Carrie
Founder, Total Transformation
NBC-HWC Health Coach
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