I came home from the Scottsdale Arabian Horse Show with one Reserve Champion and one Top Ten in very good glasses. I was dialed in for my Reserve Champion class but not so much for my Top Ten class.
On paper, it looked like a win. A ribbon. A clean ride. The kind of result that says, “You did great.”
In actuality, I wasn’t present for any of it. I trotted into that arena tired, scattered, and completely disconnected from myself. I knew it the moment I picked up my reins and my horse knew it the minute we hit the show ring.
Instead of pausing, checking in, or getting honest about where I was, I pushed through. I went on autopilot an performed. Something I have perfected over the years and have been working on stepping away from.
High-achieving women are exceptionally good at that. We can still execute. We can still “place.” We can still look like we’re thriving even when our internal world is anything but.
But there’s a cost to that kind of success, a quiet, personal one. You get the result, but you lose the feeling. You win the ribbon, but you miss yourself.
My horse felt it instantly. Horses always do. They don’t respond to masks, momentum, or “muscling through.” They respond to presence, real presence. The kind that only comes from being rooted in yourself.
And in that arena, he gave me feedback that I needed but didn’t want – “You’re here, but you’re not here.” That landed because it’s not just about riding, is it?
It’s about the way so many women, especially the high performers, the helpers, the achievers, drift through seasons of their lives on autopilot.
Doing, producing, showing up but not experiencing any of it. We move forward without ever asking,
Am I actually in my life or am I just managing it?
Am I choosing my days or just getting through them?
Am I here or am I somewhere else entirely?
I’ve lived whole chapters disconnected from myself. I know autopilot all too well and the emptiness that comes with it.
I also know what it feels like to come home to myself and ultimately, return to the woman I am when I’m not performing for anything or anyone.
This is the heart of the Wild Awake Way. Not becoming someone new but reclaiming the self you drifted away from.
The moment I stepped out of the arena, ribbon in hand, I remembered loud and clear. I don’t want a life I perform through; I want a life that I’m present for.
Maybe you do too. You’re moving through your days checked-out, stretched thin, or running on fumes. Achieving but not experiencing. The world sees you winning while you feel like something is missing.