Vulnerability

I was taken aback by how quickly the answer came to me.

My answer: that being vulnerable is key in just about everything in life.

Allow me to elaborate.

Yoga teacher training was a huge turning point in my pursuit of balance, and not because of the physical practice. In our very first class, the teachers explained that if we were on day one of more traditional, eastern yoga training, we’d be asked to try to roll a boulder up a hill. No matter our age or physical ability, we’d be asked to try, knowing full well most of us wouldn’t be able to get to the top.

Why? Because what they wanted from the boulder exercise is for the class to bond with one another by going through something hard, sweaty, near impossible, and possibly traumatic. They’d want us to share the very raw, real, struggle-ridden side of us right out of the gate to create an instant deeper connection with one another.

Our studio was a very zen space, but that space was surrounded by a Lincoln, Nebraska strip mall. No hills or boulders anywhere to be found. So instead, they recreated this experience by asking us to share with this group of strangers something we haven’t told our closest friends, family or possibly anyone. They asked us to get raw, real, (and probably sweaty) right there on day one of class.

Boy did this group understand the assignment.

I was floored by what people were sharing, stories of the deepest, darkest depths of human experience and the triumphs and trials that followed.

Before class, I was not one to share like this with anyone. If you didn’t know me while I was in the full depths of struggle, the odds of you knowing much of the stories of that time were slim to none. One of the largest traumas I went through early in life was something not a single one of my current-day, closest friends knew at the time. That’s the story I shared with this group—and it was beyond liberating.

It may sound like a no-brainer to those that know more about mental health than I did at the time, but for me, this was truly one of the first times I realized that it was ok to share this type of stuff about yourself and that people would love you anyway.

In fact, people would feel more deeply connected to you, and you to them. Respect would grow. Love could grow. WOW. This was cool stuff.

After I started being more vulnerable:
Deeper, cherished friendships came into my life.
Relationships with those that knew me all along grew deeper and richer.
Some connections healed, and some got out of my way.
Love showed up.
So did my success in being a business leader.
And my passion for building big, beautiful, authentic cultures and communities.

People found it easier to connect with me once I stopped feeling the need to live like cardboard.

While I’m not quite ready to share that yoga teacher training story with the public. I’ve shared it so far with a lot more people than I thought I ever would. And I hope one day to be brave enough to share it with all of you.

This blog is another big step on the path of sharing my sh*t in hopes that it helps motivate others to be the very best version of who they are. Who they’ve always been. Vulnerability helps that real YOU shine, with all its beautiful, real, raw, sweaty, stumbling, and steady wonderfulness.

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Balancing a Brain that’s Fighting Back

By Katherine Warren • April 6, 2025

Your brain will straight up lie to you. There’s no way to sugar coat that, friends, there just isn’t. But your brain also creates beautiful ideas and inventions, and well, everything you see that surrounds us. It’s the power of the AND. Your brain is the king of the “and.” The first step in finding balance is recognizing this. The second step is discerning the beautiful part of your brain from the beast. The third is not reacting to, judging or negotiating with the beastly part. It’s tough, tough work. It’s lifelong work. And even if your friends start calling you things like the “definition of balance” (a term so kindly bestowed on me by some friends recently). You’re still gonna have to work your a** off on this part for the rest of your life as you sway back and forth, in and out of balance. Does it get easier? Yes and no. The beauty of understanding the feeling of balance is that you don’t have to rely on your brain so much. You know how it feels to be in a place of solid, grounded peace, no matter what your brain is shouting you “should” or “could” be doing. The harder part is that the more you find balance, the more likely it is that you are upleveling your life. Your focus and pure presence have likely brought about more of whatever you define as a successful life--mentally, physically, or materially. That uplevel can mean those brain lies cut a little deeper, make you question every decision you make to protect your peace. If you’ve learned to sit with that pain in your belly, it might fight a little harder to make you pay attention to it. It might put up a bigger fight to try to force you to listen to those untruths. This is when you have to remind yourself, your brain will straight up lie to you. Under no circumstances should you negotiate with these thoughts. That’s where spiraling lives, that’s where lack of balance lies. Sometimes holding hard to your balanced routines will do the trick.