True healing doesn’t come from the people who caused the pain.
It comes when you stop looking for closure, validation, or understanding from those who never had the capacity to give it.
Let this be a reminder to reclaim your power—and choose peace on your own terms.
Slayers, I’ve got something super special to share with you today! I had the absolute joy and honor of being a guest on the Girls Talk Healthy Aging podcast, and the episode just dropped!
🎙️ Episode 80: “Discovering Your True Self: With Carrie Genzel”
Hosted by the dynamic duo Alli Kerr and Shawna Kaminski, this conversation dives deep into authenticity, self-discovery, and the journey of aligning with who you truly are.
We talked about embracing our evolving selves, shedding the labels and expectations that no longer serve us, and how I’ve navigated my own path—personally, spiritually, and creatively. It’s raw, real, and full of the kind of honest talk I know you come here for.
Whether you’re in a season of reinvention or simply curious about the ways we grow and show up fully in our truth, this episode is for YOU.
Here’s how you can listen: 👉 Spotify
👇 YouTube version embedded right here so you can watch/listen:
I’m so grateful to Alli and Shawna for holding such a beautiful, open space and allowing me to share my story. Give it a listen, and if it speaks to you, I’d love to hear your thoughts in the comments.
Slay On!
There’s a lot of talk about change right now—and that’s a good thing.
Awareness is the first step. Conversation is the second. But here’s the truth I’ve learned:
Real change begins with you.
It starts with how you show up in your life.
How you treat yourself.
How you treat others.
What you contribute to your relationships, your community, your world.
And the most powerful change I’ve ever experienced didn’t come from trying to fix someone else—it came from the moment I stopped pointing fingers and started looking in the mirror.
Before I began this path of healing, my default was blame.
If something wasn’t working, it was your fault.
If I didn’t get what I wanted, it was because you messed up.
I lived in a constant state of resentment, convinced the world needed to change—never realizing I had the power to change my world by changing myself.
The truth? That mindset kept me stuck.
When we expect others to adjust for our comfort, we end up in a loop of frustration and disappointment. Change can’t be something we demand from others—it’s something we must embody.
That doesn’t mean other people don’t have room to grow. But it’s not our job to mold them.
It’s our job to decide who we are—and who we want to be in relationship with.
Sometimes what bothers us most in someone else is something we haven’t fully healed in ourselves.
It’s like life holds up a mirror—and instead of facing what we see, we blame the reflection.
That’s the moment where growth begins.
That’s the invitation:
To stop reacting and start reflecting.
Even when there’s no direct mirror involved, change must come from the inside out.
If a dynamic no longer feels aligned, maybe you’ve outgrown it. That’s okay. Growth often means stepping out of what’s familiar and choosing what’s right—even if it’s uncomfortable.
The most impactful changes I’ve made in my life didn’t happen because someone else demanded them.
They happened when I decided I wanted something better for myself.
And you know what?
When I changed, everything around me changed, too.
Relationships improved.
Boundaries became clearer.
Opportunities showed up that had never been possible before—because I wasn’t ready for them until then.
Change starts within.
And from there, it ripples out to everything—and everyone—around you.
Do you tend to look outside yourself when things feel off?
Have you waited for others to change while staying the same?
When have you seen personal growth ripple outward into other areas of your life?
Who have you outgrown—and what might that say about the evolution you’re stepping into?
What’s one action you can take today to embody the change you want to see?
I’d love to hear from you.
What’s one way you’ve seen personal change impact the world around you?
Share your story in the comments. Let’s cheer each other on.
And if you know someone who’s been talking about change but unsure where to start, send this to them.
Sometimes, the most powerful shift happens the moment we turn inward.
I was listening to Andrea Bocelli’s moving performance of “Amazing Grace” recently at the Duomo cathedral in Milan. As I heard the words “I was blind but now I see,” it struck me deeply. I hadn’t really thought about that line before—just the song as a whole and what it meant—but it reminded me of the years I spent struggling.
There was a time when I didn’t believe I was worth saving, a time when I had lost hope. Back then, I was blind. I was blind to myself, my life, my behavior—thinking I was someone I wasn’t, living a life I wasn’t. I saw only what my mind told me to see, not the truth of what was really going on.
I was living in the darkness of my mind, while the real me—the person I truly was—slowly slipped away under the layers of garbage I kept piling on.
We tend to see what we want to see, don’t we? Whether it’s good or bad, we often paint ourselves a picture we choose to believe. Some of us hide behind a picture-perfect fantasy; others choose to cloak everything in doom and gloom.
But the truth is, life usually falls somewhere in the middle—often not as extreme as our minds want us to believe.
I used to use distractions and numbing behaviors to avoid the truth. Even during this time of isolation and home seclusion, those distractions are still available. Facing the truth is uncomfortable. It’s so much easier to stay behind the veil of the story we tell ourselves.
For me, the truth was standing right in front of me, and I could no longer hide. It took realizing that continuing to hide from my truth would ultimately destroy me. When I finally sought help, that veil was lifted. And while seeing the truth was painful at first, it was also freeing.
The truth was my chance to make changes. To see the mess my life had become. To recognize the lies my head had been feeding me.
At first, it was easier to hide and live in a world of my own choosing, but things were never going to get better in that place. I was lucky to have seen the truth when I did, and that I was still able to do something about it. Not everyone gets that chance.
When we are willing to face the truth, we give ourselves the opportunity to change what we don’t like. Or at least, to improve things. Truth gives us clarity to make better choices and to see how those choices affect not just us, but those around us.
It’s within truth that real change is possible. It’s where we find the opportunity to become someone we are proud of—someone who lives a life we want, not one we’re pretending to live.
So take off the glasses that may be clouding your vision. Look at your life for what it truly is, and use that vision to build a life you are proud to see.
SLAY on.
Do you typically see things as they are, or do you see them as you choose to see them?
What do you see? Do you like it?
How much of what you don’t like is a result of your own choices?
What can you change to improve what you see?
Write an example of something you chose not to see and how it became a bigger problem.
Do you tend to overlook the good in your life? Why?
What good can you see if you look for it? How can you find and create more good?
When we face our truth, we gain clarity. And clarity gives us the opportunity to make changes—big or small—that can lead us to a better life.
I’d love to hear from you.
What truth are you ready to face in your life?
Share your story in the comments. Let’s support each other in seeing things clearly.
And if you know someone who might need this reminder, send it to them. Sometimes, the first step is simply acknowledging we’re ready to see.
I used to believe my biggest problem was everything outside of me. The people. The situations. The pain I carried. But when I got still—really still—I realized something that rocked me to my core: my real issue was my thinking.
That truth was a hard pill to swallow. I saw myself as smart, self-sufficient, capable. So to admit that my own mind was the source of my suffering? That was humbling. But it was also the key to my healing.
For years, I tried to fix my life with outside solutions. Food, alcohol, work, relationships—anything to distract or numb the noise in my head. But no matter what I used, the chaos always came back.
Because the problem wasn’t what was around me. The problem was what was going on inside me.
My thinking had become a bully, one that convinced me I was broken, unworthy, and doomed to stay that way. And the more I listened, the more I suffered.
The turning point came when I hit my emotional and spiritual bottom. I had to face the truth: My best thinking had gotten me here.
So I stopped trying to outthink the pain, and I started getting help. Recovery work. Support groups. Therapy. People who understood this path and weren’t afraid to tell the truth. The more I shared, the less power my thoughts had over me.
I began learning new tools—meditation, reframing, gratitude. I started asking for perspective instead of assuming my perspective was fact. And I promised myself I would stay teachable, because the moment I think I know it all? That’s when I’m in trouble.
Our thoughts shape our perception. And our perception shapes our choices. If your thoughts are rooted in shame, fear, or scarcity, your life will reflect that.
But when you begin to challenge those thoughts, you shift your reality.
Today, I ask myself:
You don’t have to believe everything you think. And you don’t have to let your mind run the show.
If your thoughts have been taking you down, know this: you can take back the pen. You are not your thoughts. You are the one witnessing them.
With support, honesty, and consistency, you can rewire your mind. You can heal what once felt permanent. And you can choose thoughts that empower rather than destroy.
Don’t let your thoughts bully you out of the life you’re here to live. Shine a light on them. Bring them into the open. Then take one brave step in a new direction.
SLAY on.
SLAY Reflection
S-L-A-Y:
Call to Action: Join the Conversation
I’d love to hear from you.
What thought are you ready to stop believing today?
Share your story in the comments. Let’s cheer each other on.
And if you know someone who’s stuck in a negative thought loop, send this to them.
Sometimes, all we need is a nudge.
Overthinking is something most of us know all too well. Whether we’re trying to talk ourselves into a decision we know deep down isn’t right, delaying a choice we don’t want to face, or spinning our wheels in solo analysis instead of asking for help—we waste a lot of time trying to force a result that usually isn’t meant for us.
I’ve done it more times than I can count. I would think a situation to death, trying to make it make sense or to justify an action I wanted to take. And almost always, that thinking led me in circles. No resolution. No peace. Just more confusion.
There’s value in pausing to make a thoughtful choice. But when that pause becomes paralysis? That’s usually a red flag.
In my past, I often sat in silence with my thoughts. I wouldn’t share them. I wouldn’t ask for help. I just stayed stuck—spinning in fear, doubt, and self-sabotage. My negative inner voice had full control, and the longer I stayed in my head, the more power I gave it. That thinking nearly cost me my life. Because at some point, I had to face the truth: my thinking alone wasn’t always trustworthy.
Recovery taught me something vital: just because I think it doesn’t make it true. And just because I want something to work, doesn’t mean it’s right.
When we find ourselves overthinking, it’s often because we’re trying to:
Sometimes, our mind will fight our gut. Our fear will argue with our truth. That’s why it’s so important to stay honest—and to talk it out with someone you trust.
You don’t have to think your way out of everything alone. Insight often comes when we open up, ask questions, and let others help us see clearly.
Long thinking is often a mask for fear. But taking action—even one small step—can break the loop.
If you’ve been stuck in thought, ask yourself:
Not every decision needs weeks of thought. Sometimes, you already know the answer—you’re just scared to act on it.
Trust yourself enough to try. And if it’s the wrong move? You can course correct. But don’t let thinking be the reason you stay stuck.
SLAY on.
I’d love to hear from you.
What’s one decision you’re ready to stop overthinking and finally act on?
Share your story in the comments. Let’s cheer each other on.
And if you know someone who’s stuck in their head, send this to them.
Sometimes, all we need is a little clarity—and a nudge to begin.
We live in a world obsessed with recognition—likes, shares, shout-outs. But what if your greatest impact comes from what no one sees? What if your legacy isn’t built on applause, but on quiet action? What if you stopped needing credit and just… did the thing?
That was a tough pill for me to swallow. I used to chase validation like it was the prize. If I didn’t get credit, did it even count? I justified everything I did—calling it generous, kind, helpful—but really, I wanted to be seen. I wanted acknowledgment. I wanted control. But all of that masked a deeper truth: I needed to feel enough.
When I began my recovery journey, I was given a powerful suggestion: do something kind for someone—and don’t tell anyone about it. At first, that felt… impossible. If no one knew, how could I feel worthy? But I tried it anyway. And you know what? It worked. Doing good for the sake of doing good shifted something in me.
Let’s be real—most of us were raised in a world where “good behavior” came with gold stars. We learned that praise = worth. But here’s the truth:
When you stop seeking applause, you start discovering real power.
Doing the right thing just because it’s right builds integrity, resilience, and self-trust. It silences the inner critic. It quiets the noise. And it rewires our motivation—not for performance, but for purpose.
If your only fuel is someone else’s approval, you’ll run out of gas fast. But when you’re moved by values, by love, by truth—you become unstoppable.
Too often we place the success of something on whether or not it’s recognized. We post, we share, we wait for the reaction—and when it doesn’t come? We question ourselves. We downplay the win. We wonder if it was worth it.
But here’s the thing: You get to be proud even if no one claps.
The moment you detach from needing praise, you become free. Free to create. Free to give. Free to lead. When your validation comes from within, the outside world can’t shake you.
That’s how you build self-esteem—by doing esteemable acts, especially when no one is watching. Your self-worth isn’t in their hands. It never was.
Start by asking yourself: Why am I doing this? Is it to feel connected? To make a difference? To step into your purpose? Let that be your anchor.
And when you do something kind, bold, or brave? Sit with it. Let the moment speak for itself. No need to announce it. No need to chase praise. You already did the thing.
That’s the win. That’s the reward. That’s the work.
You are enough—without the tag, the trophy, or the credit. Just you, showing up in quiet, powerful ways. That’s the kind of SLAY that shifts the world.
SLAY Reflection
S-L-A-Y:
Call to Action: Join the Conversation
I’d love to hear from you.
Have you ever done something powerful without needing credit? How did that change you?
Share your story in the comments. Let’s cheer each other on.
And if you know someone who’s stuck waiting for approval, send this to them.
Sometimes, all we need is a nudge.
The holidays can bring so much joy—but they can also bring pressure, guilt, and emotional exhaustion. Too often, we show up out of obligation rather than desire. We put on a smile, check the box, and leave feeling drained. But here’s the truth: you don’t owe anyone your presence at the expense of your peace.
Early in my healing journey, I had to start asking myself a new question before saying yes to an invitation:
“Do I truly want to be there—or do I just think I should?”
I’m not talking about what society expects. I’m not talking about guilt. I’m talking about truth. Your obligation is to your well-being. Not someone’s idea of what the holidays should look like.
Let’s be real: taking care of yourself will make some people uncomfortable. They’ll say you’re selfish. They’ll say you’re being dramatic. And sometimes, the loudest pushback comes from the people who benefit most from your lack of boundaries.
But their comfort isn’t your job. Your mental, emotional, and spiritual health is.
How many times have we said yes when we meant no, only to spend the event feeling resentful, drained, or on the verge of a breakdown? How many times have we promised ourselves never again—only to do it again next year?
That cycle ends when you decide your peace is more important than someone else’s perception.
When I stay rooted in the moment and check in with myself—without spiraling into what-ifs or worrying about reactions—I stay honest. If I’m not in a good place to show up, I say so.
Sometimes I offer context. Sometimes I don’t. You’re allowed to protect your peace without explaining yourself to everyone.
Will people always understand? No. Will some talk behind your back? Maybe. But those reactions say more about them than they do about you. You’re not here to meet other people’s expectations—you’re here to protect your energy.
Especially during the holidays, it’s easy to feel pulled in a dozen directions. But the best gift you can give yourself is permission—permission to check in, to say no, to leave early, to skip the party entirely if that’s what you need.
Maybe that means going for a walk instead of going to dinner. Maybe it’s choosing solitude over small talk. Or maybe it’s showing up—but doing so on your own terms.
Whatever honors your journey, your growth, your peace… do that. You deserve to move through this season in a way that aligns with your truth.
And if someone doesn’t understand? That’s okay. You’re not for everyone. But you are for you.
SLAY Reflection
S-L-A-Y:
Call to Action: Join the Conversation
I’d love to hear from you.
What’s one expectation you’re ready to release this season—and how will you reclaim your peace instead?
Share your story in the comments. Let’s cheer each other on.
And if you know someone who’s feeling the pressure to show up for everyone else, send this to them.
Sometimes, all we need is a reminder.
Let’s get one thing straight: your emotions aren’t flaws—they’re signals. And when you express them, especially the hard ones, you’re not being dramatic—you’re being brave.
I used to think otherwise. I believed showing emotion made me weak, messy, or a burden. So I swallowed my sadness. I masked my fear. I let anger lead because it felt powerful—until it didn’t.
What I didn’t realize then is what I know now:
Pretending you’re fine when you’re not doesn’t make you strong—it keeps you stuck.
Before I found this path, I believed the lie that being emotional meant I was broken. I wore “I’m fine” like armor. But underneath? I was drowning.
I thought if I kept it all inside, I’d stay in control. But all I did was isolate myself.
When I finally whispered, “I’m not okay,” I expected the world to crumble.
It didn’t.
Instead, it got quieter. Lighter. Kinder.
I started sharing more—first in small, scared ways. A tear I didn’t hide. A truth I told out loud. And I discovered something wild:
My emotions didn’t make me weak. They made me real.
And in being real, I connected.
People didn’t run. They leaned in.
They said, “Me too.”
Every time I gave my emotions a voice, I took my power back.
I stopped believing the lie that vulnerability is a liability. I started believing this instead:
Telling the truth—even when your voice shakes—is the most powerful thing you can do.
Let me be clear: You don’t have to spill your soul to everyone. Not all feelings need a stage—but they do deserve space.
Even saying a simple, “I’m not okay right now” can be the start of something powerful.
Because emotional honesty doesn’t just free you—it invites others to show up too.
And that’s how we build the connection we crave.
Ask yourself:
Your voice deserves to be heard—especially by you.
S: Stop pretending you’re fine when you’re not.
L: Listen to your emotions without judgment.
A: Allow yourself to feel and share.
Y: Yield to the healing power of emotional honesty.
Call to Action: Join the Conversation
I’d love to hear from you.
What emotion have you been holding in—and what might change if you gave it a voice?
Share your story in the comments. Let’s cheer each other on.
And if you know someone who’s been holding it all in, send this to them.
Sometimes, all we need is a nudge.
We all have a past. We all have pain. But some of us don’t just carry it—we perform it. Over and over. Like a monologue we’ve rehearsed so well, it becomes our identity. If that sounds familiar, you might be starring in what I call your junkologue.
It’s that loop where you retell the same stories of pain, betrayal, and hardship—not to heal, but to get a reaction. Maybe it’s sympathy. Maybe it’s validation. Maybe it’s just to be seen. But here’s the thing: living in your junk keeps you from living in your truth.
There’s a difference between sharing your story and clinging to it. We often convince ourselves we’re “working through” something when in reality, we’re rehashing it to stay stuck.
Before I found the courage to get help, I was the lead in my junkologue. I told my tales of pain like war stories—always the victim, never the villain. I’d exaggerate to gain sympathy or manipulate situations to my advantage. It wasn’t humility. It was a form of emotional exhibitionism—a way to keep myself small while trying to feel important.
I told myself I was being vulnerable. But I wasn’t. I was addicted to the attention my wounds gave me. And the people who stuck around? They were often stuck in their own junk too. Misery doesn’t just love company—it curates it.
Everything changed when I started asking the hard questions: Why am I telling this story? What am I hoping to gain? Am I using it to inspire—or to indulge?
That’s when I discovered what true humility really meant. It wasn’t putting myself down publicly for applause. It was being honest about my part in the story. It was making amends, not just confessions.
Now, if I share a piece of my past, it’s with purpose—to support, connect, or guide. Not to center myself in pain, but to show what healing looks like.
Your junkologue doesn’t have to be your identity. It can be your origin story—but only if you let yourself grow beyond it.
Your story is powerful. But ask yourself: Are you using it to heal—or to hide?
If you’re constantly the victim in every version of your story, it might be time to zoom out. See your patterns. See your choices. See your growth.
Because you are not your worst moments. You are not your junk. You are who you decide to become next.
We’ve all survived things. But survival isn’t the goal—thriving is.
So the next time you feel the urge to share your junkologue, pause. Ask yourself: Is this for healing, or habit? Is this story helping me evolve—or keeping me stuck?
When we tell our stories with ownership, honesty, and heart, they lift us—and those listening. When we tell them for attention or control, they keep us in the shadows.
You get to choose which version you tell. And more importantly—you get to choose what comes next.
Step out of your junkologue, and into your power. That’s how we Slay.
SLAY Reflection
S-L-A-Y:
Call to Action: Join the Conversation
I’d love to hear from you.
Do you ever catch yourself performing your junkologue? What helps you shift into healing mode instead?
Share your story in the comments. Let’s cheer each other on.
And if you know someone who’s stuck in the loop of their old story, send this to them.
Sometimes, all we need is a nudge.
