In May 2022, two things happened almost simultaneously. The first: I was invited to give a TEDx Nashville talk in August. The second: I joined a business coaching program.

Within a couple of weeks, I’d written the first draft of my TEDx—about how we can dismantle the concept of enemies through proximity, humility, and curiosity—and sent it to the TEDx coach that recruited me. He wrote back and basically said, “It’s fine, but it doesn’t pack a punch. However, those last two paragraphs at the end, about your own story—that part was very compelling. I wonder what an entire talk about that would be like…” What he was referencing was the section of the talk where I said that in some ways, I had become an enemy to myself in my life and have had to use those same steps of proximity, humility, and curiosity to reconcile myself to myself. So off I went to rewrite my talk—how a relentless self-curiosity was helping me heal from trauma.

At this same time, I joined a business coaching program called The Inner Circle, run by a friend of mine named Harris III. In my first one-on-one coaching call, I vented to him that I’ve had a years-long struggle with productivity. “I feel like I’m only achieving 40% of my potential,” I said. (Hello Enneagram 3!) Without missing a beat, Harris replied, “You don’t have a productivity problem, Michael. You have a creative clarity problem.”

I think I said some expletives from the shock of that revelation.

He was right. I had no idea what I was wanting to build with my career. I had a perfectly successful six-figure consulting business in storytelling and conflict resolution, but it wasn’t fulfilling. I had no vision for where I wanted the business to go. I had nothing I was working toward. No real purpose. I told him, “I’m getting to do what I thought would make me happy—storytelling work—and yet I only feel happy about 10% of the time.”

It was then that I told him about my TEDx. I told him about writing it—the vulnerability and honesty it was requiring to share about my trauma and journey of healing—how meaningful it felt. I said, “This is what I really want to talk about. Not corporate storytelling.” And then I said, “There’s some part of me that really thinks this TEDx talk is going to dramatically shift the focus of my work; I just don’t know how yet.”

Harris asked me what work I’ve done that I loved most. I knew the answer right away: a weekend retreat called Becoming Restoried, where I guided a small group of people through deep storywork. “By far my favorite professional venture,” I told him. “The work I’ve always loved the most is when I am able to accompany people into their most painful stories and be there with them in curiosity and compassion.” And then Harris said, “Well, then that’s what you need to build.”

It had never, until that very moment, occurred to me that Becoming Restoried could be anything other than an occasional weekend retreat. And I certainly had not imagined that I could devote my full-time work to it. And yet, within two hours of ending that Zoom call with Harris, I had designed the entire model of the Becoming Restoried community.

It was all just sitting there, simmering beneath the surface, waiting for someone to invite me to believe in myself.

And now I want to give that same gift to all of you.