Connecting Our Disparate Inner Parts

A disconnected inner self leads to a chaotic outer world experience in which we feel like we don't fit in. Feeling like you don't fit in affects how we act, treat others, and perceive the world around us.

The journey towards healing starts with acknowledging and accepting these truths and committing to a lifestyle that connects the disparate parts of our inner world. Connecting our disparate inner parts makes our inner world whole.

In this whole inner world, unpleasant feelings are no longer labeled as bad and hidden away but are acknowledged and cared for, just like the feelings traditionally labeled as pleasant.

In this whole inner world, unpleasant feelings are first-class citizens. All feelings get to experience the joy of being seen.

The biggest step we must take is acknowledging, accepting, and experiencing all feelings on an even playing field. When we take this step, our perspective opens and our compassion for others deepens.

Compassion transforms our actions. We feel good.

And so the cycle goes.

The Intoxication of Feedback

Feedback is like a drug to me, and I've been a junkie for it all of my working life. Not just the nice, 'you've done a good job' kind of feedback, but more of the 'here's what you can do better' variety that gives me something tangible to munch on.

Maybe it's because I never had the kind of enviable confidence that some people have. The kind of confidence that makes them feel like they are always right. The kind of confidence that, like a security blanket or better yet, a protective shield, makes it difficult for any kind of criticism to seep through.

Or maybe it's because I think that I'm destined to forever be a runner-up, never in first place, kind of woman, and so there's always room to do more work to be an even better version of myself. Whatever the reason, it's left me hungry to understand what I can improve, and therefore always very receptive to feedback.

Among the best feedback I have ever received, the piece of advice that remains with me to this day, had to do with my posture during meetings. YES, my posture of all things. Specifically, to not let my shoulders fall during challenging or heated conversations in which my ideas were being built upon (stolen?) and someone else was receiving the full credit.

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I was very early in my career when I received this gem of advice - super green on the job, but full of thoughts about how to solve problems creatively, intuition about business, and enthusiasm to contribute. I wasn't afraid to contribute openly in discussions with very senior people. But I was unaccustomed to the politics and the competitive dynamics in a hierarchical environment. I had loads of potential, but my delivery needed pruning.

A typical day involved many meetings with peers across different functional departments and senior leaders who were ultimately there to be appealed to with compelling arguments. The meetings were like a theatre - a Broadway play with a cast of characters who rotated across the same roles.

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The narcissist was my favorite role to observe. This person not only had the most air time in every meeting, but also found a way to take credit for all of the good ideas, including mine. And the resultant praise that would be directed in the narcissist's direction would plant seeds of doubt and uncertainty in my mind and apparently, also on my face and in my shoulders.

So when I received this amazingly pointed feedback, I was so thankful. I am indeed an extremely animated in person. Even when I am not speaking, I am speaking. I listen and react to others with my whole body. So the feedback was clearly for me - it was based in accurate observation, was insightful, and specific, and doled out in a careful manner that balanced softness with brutal honesty.

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Immediately after that conversation, I became hyper aware of my body language and facial expressions during meetings. I had to act-as-if I was not affected when my ideas were being retold by another, because the truth is, I did feel a sting of hurt and at the time, was still inexperienced in the art of advocating for myself.

I wondered then, as I often do now, about the many people who never have the blessing of experiencing this kind of compassionate feedback and lament at what a missed opportunity that is.

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So if or when you have the opportunity to coach or mentor someone and want to help them develop in a certain area by sharing feedback, consider the following tips to do so carefully and effectively.

1. Be specific. The worst kind of feedback, is vague or generic feedback that does not pinpoint specific examples of the behavior or issue you'd like the individual to address. Statements like, "good job" or "you should prioritize better" don't help to narrow down the things that are working well and should be maintained, or not working well and need to be adjusted. However, qualifying statements like, "good job on delivering a very clear, concise and compelling presentation. The way you visualized the story helped bring the audience along." can go much further to motivate and also clarify expectations around what good looks like in the future. The same clarity goes when giving constructive feedback.
2. Give examples. If the feedback is related to a particular behavior, it is helpful to make note of specific examples of when the behavior was observed so that these can be recalled when giving feedback. It will bring the receiver back to the moment and what was going on - all context that makes the feedback become internalized in more lasting ways than in the absence of specific examples.
3. Be timely. Never wait too long before giving feedback. The more distance between the moment a behavior is observed and the moment that feedback is received, the more challenging the conversation can become.
4. Be empathetic. Try to find a time and space that works for the person with whom you are going to speak. You don't want them to feel cornered or caught off guard. Ask them whether they are open to receiving feedback. And only if they say yes, should you proceed to share your thoughts.

Feel free to share your own experiences with giving and receiving feedback in the comments section below. We'd love to hear.

I still don't know what I want to be when I grow up

I grew up around friends who knew what they wanted to be. I, on the other hand, had no clue. While I didn't feel too terrible about it, I did feel like I was missing out on something communal. To get in on the action, I either needed to (1) discover exactly what I wanted to be, or (2) at least know what to say when I was asked the question: "What do YOU want to be when you grow up?" I chose to do the latter.

Fortunately, I was surrounded by cues on what would be acceptable to say. There were the books in my Early Readers series that told stories of mummies and daddies who worked in hospitals and schools and offices, doing important things all day while their kids were at school. There were the 'let's-pretend-we're-grownups' games played during recess that allowed me to try out different roles. But perhaps the most overt signals came from the adults around me whose palpable excitement could not be contained when a child exclaimed "Doctor!" "Lawyer!" "Astronaut" or "President!" in response to that taxing question.

So when I turned 6, I decided on [DRUM ROLL] ... Doctor. It wasn't what I necessarily wanted to BE, but it was what I had decided to say: it was a frontrunner in all the above scenarios; and adults seemed to adore the idea. So I kept the ruse going well into early adolescence.

But by 15, my genuine disinterest in medicine revealed itself. I found my Biology and Chemistry classes to be interesting, but more tedious than I had patience to tolerate. I loved applying myself and was never one to shy away from my studies, but this felt different. The work didn't feel worth it.

I don't recall telling my mother that I no longer wanted to be a doctor, but I must have, because at some point, I switched into the subjects of Business and Spanish and she raised no memorable objection. But inside, I was a bit confused: I still felt the same pressure to narrow in on a set of subjects that would be the foundation of a future profession, yet had no natural inclination towards any particular area. Well, except for dance. I wanted to be a dancer. But that was not going to happen. Subject for another post.

So I stayed the course with Business and Spanish and went on to major (naturally) in International Business at University. The passion still had not emerged, and I had no idea where inside that field I would want to land, but I ploughed away. I continued ploughing away through Business School all the way to my first corporate job... and that's when, with the help of caring coaches, exceptional managers and empathetic mentors, I began to uncover some truths about myself and nuggets of wisdom that continue to propel me forward in life.

• It's okay to not know what you want to do when you grow up. Not having a clearly defined vision of a final professional end state made it easy for me to say yes to new opportunities. I probably would not be where I am today if it wasn't for this mindset.

• Understand what you like to do inside of your job, then find ways to do more of it. Early on in my career, I recall feeling extremely anxious about my future. Although I was doing well in my job, I felt like a fraud because in my mind, I was destined to be doing other things with my life (like dancing! or running a small business!) and my new reality was inconsistent with this vision I had for myself. With the help of my then Life Coach, I was able to understand and embrace the fact that there were elements of the work that I truly enjoyed - problem solving, working on a team, storytelling, etc. - because they were strengths transferred from my former life as a professional dancer. These became some of my 'must haves' as I moved into new roles.

• You don't have to end up where you started. Whether it's a new opportunity inside your current company, a cross-functional assignment, a change of company, a side hustle on top of your day job, or a return to education to enter an entirely new field, you have the power to mix things up, experiment and make changes in your life. It is never too late to start something new - you can have as many acts in life as you desire.

So tell me... when you were younger, did you have a clear picture of what you wanted to be doing when you grew up? Are you doing it, or has life taken you onto other paths which you had not initially imagined for yourself?

Hello Everyone. My name is ___ and I am a recovering perfectionist

• 

"Close your eyes! Open your hands, Mummy!" demanded my 6 year old daughter one Saturday morning as she eagerly shared another one of her precious works of art. She had been silently toiling away at it in her room for over an hour.

"Okay. Now, open them!" ... "I made this for you. Do you like it?" I smiled knowingly, slowly opened my eyes and excitedly exclaimed [like it was the first time this scene was being played out], "Oh, thank you darling! It is absolutely goooorrggeeouus!"

Without trying to break my smile, I snuck a quick glance down at her multi-colored fingers and palms, and then at the floor where a trail of itty bitty pieces of paper and glitter lay in her path. I breathed deeply and quietly reminded myself: It's the weekend, Nikkia; let her have her fun; remember it's about finding joy in the DOING; embrace the chaos.

Seeming to sense my struggle to keep things positive, she added empathetically: "Mummy, you don't have to worry about all of this. Remember, I am an artist, and sometimes artists have to make mess in order to create!" I was equal parts shocked at the maturity of her words AND inspired by how quickly the student was becoming the teacher. But mostly, I was super duper proud.

It is wonderful that she has found an outlet to express herself, without inhibition, at such a young age. And I admire that she sees so much beauty in imperfection (or rather, what the world has taught us to view as imperfect). Where others see drawing outlines as a clear indication of where color should begin and stop, she sees mere suggestions that need not be taken too seriously.

I feel slightly ashamed to admit this. But the truth is that in my daughter's early coloring days, my instinct was to say "nice job sweetie pie, but, see those lines? Let's try to color inside of them next time." Of course I didn't say this outloud. But I thought it, and that was enough for me to feel like I was doing a lousy job at embracing my daughter for who she was and nurturing her natural talents.

It was clear that I needed to work on myself and my perfectionist mindset before I could willingly accept the clutter, the fingerprints on the walls and the general chaos. I had to let go of my desire to want her to want order, neatness and perfection (read: be more like me).

My perfectionist tendencies went way back. It was a quality that was nurtured in me as a child and rewarded in school. It helped me remain focused and resilient after I'd graduated from university and then again, business school and desperately in search of a job.

I was the person who would look at an email endlessly to make sure that it was perfect before hitting the send button. And even after sending it out, I'd re-read it, then get angry at myself if I noticed a mistake that I did not catch before sending it out. And when a presentation was finished, I'd spend hours making it look like a consultant's presentation; fixating on font and formatting and slide titles like the future of the business depended on it. It was excruciating and time-sucking, but it also secretly made me very happy to do these things.

It took a near burnout for me to realize that striving for perfection not only stressed me out unnecessarily, but also made me look like a control freak who didn't know how to prioritize. A close friend recognized my patterns and was eager to share a road-tested solution with me. She knew that I was a junkie for constructive feedback and would want to "win" at implementing this. I am so happy that she shared this, because I've been passing it along to others ever since.

She said that I could relax to my standards to about 80% because, for many folks, my 80% looked pretty damn close to 100%. The value of that remaining 20% was almost non-existent. It may have made ME feel good, but it took time and energy to get there and was not seen to offer any substantial value over and above the 80%.

So I slowly started pulling back to test the waters. And you know what? No. One. Noticed. A. Difference. Not a soul.

• I did not get called out for sending emails with typos or presentations with wonky formatting. The message was received and understood.

• Something kind of strange also started happening. The more I shared my 60% or 80% finished work with my partners, the more involved they began to feel in my work and the easier it was for them to provide helpful feedback. It was as though showing NON-perfect work was a show of how comfortable and confident as I was in my work.

• Of course, if I was dealing with a priority project or communicating with a person or a group that were very high up in the pecking order, I buttoned up and gave 100% and spent that extra time where I needed to.

Today, I am proud to say that I am a recovering perfectionist. I prioritize where I need to put more focus and spend more time and where I can afford to do less - at home AND at work. And when I start slipping back into old habits, I think of my daughter's approach to her art and remind myself to let go and not take things so seriously.

So tell me, do you consider yourself a perfectionist or a recovering perfectionist? How has that affected the way you work - positively and negatively. Feel free to share your thoughts / stories in the comments section below.

Some people will dislike you no matter what you do... and that's totally fine

That is not me. I think he might have something against me. Or maybe he just does not like me. I'm not sure what else I can do. I am not sure I want to do anything else.

These were the thoughts that flitted across my mind while receiving some unusually harsh, and undeserved criticism from someone, on behalf of someone else.

Sitting across from the message bearer, I stared unflinchingly into his eyes with legs crossed and torso upright and forward leaning; a physical habit that I'd adopted so that I could fully focus on the message, listen intently, actively, and empathetically; so that I could try to tease apart fact from fiction... truth from emotion.

Although I wanted to defend myself against what felt like character assassination and was growing more frustrated at the suggestion that I should continue to find ways to "win him over" given his position, I remained motionless and quiet, except for the occasional blink or reflexive head tilt to express my genuine disbelief and concern. When a natural lull in the conversation allowed me to respond, I calmly let it out:

"I am sorry, but asking me to try to 'win him over' is something that is a bit unfair. I have heard this feedback before and done all that I could do to flex my style to make him more comfortable with me and to try to build a relationship. I honestly believe that he simply does not like me because I break with the norm of what he's used to; if I don't agree with him, I voice it... and this does not sit well with him. So I have accepted that he may always dislike me, and you know what? I am okay with it."

I went on to try to elaborate why I felt it was impossible to win this man over: he had an old-school view of women in the workplace; a cultural background that emphasized hierarchy pandering to the one individual at the top; a belief that people should only do what they are told versus challenge the status quo.

And while I understood the feedback, I was clear that I was no longer going to try to be liked by someone whose feelings I had no control over... because 'trying' would require me to completely alter the way I showed up in any interaction with him, quiet the natural curiosity that led me to ask questions in meetings that could illuminate a better way forward; and stop challenging when I felt like I had ample information or cause to do so.

I'd be lying if I told you that this was easy. It wasn't. It was tough because I like people, and I like people to like me. I enjoy helping people and the teams that I work with, and want to bring a light, positive and we-can-do-this energy in all my interactions. So making the decision to stop trying to work on a relationship that only I wanted to see improve, took mental toughness and resilience.

So if like me, you're not a natural 'people pleaser,' you will probably encounter similar situations at work and in life. It may hurt the first time you get word that someone doesn't like you and that's okay. You can't ignore the feeling. But you can control your behavior and what you do next.

Your challenge will be to figure out: (A) whether the dislike that you're experiencing is valid and needs your attention (because it causes discomfort, truly offends others, or is hurting the perception of your work); or (B) whether the dislike should be left alone and ignored (because it is directed to you the person and not your work or contributions, is isolated to an individual, and your previous attempts to build a relationship with the person has led to naught).

If it's the former, then you have some reflection to do and I'd recommend seeking advice from your manager, a coach or mentor on how to address whatever the issue is. But if it's the latter, then understanding that NOT caring too much - cause it saves your energy and allows you to not compromise who you are - could be the key to moving on.

For more insights on how to care less when someone doesn't like you, check out this blog post from Refine the Mind titled, The Gorgeous Reality of Not Being Well-Liked by Everyone.

What strategies have you employed to deal with people who dislike you, either at work or in life? Please let me know in the comments section below!

Why it's okay to ask for help when you're struggling at work

One of my favorite and most treasured golden gems of advice gifted to me by my first boss, was to never shy away from asking for help, because:

... those who are able to acknowledge that they don't have all of the answers and are brave enough to seek guidance, tend to go the furthest.

Like your tell-it-like-it-is aunt, or that sensible older cousin, she had an uncanny ability to see into my future in a way that I could not. When she spoke, I felt emotion and force and intellect carrying her words - a clear sign that she was speaking from experience. So I listened intently. She put a tremendous amount of care and effort into helping me understand my potential so that I could fly far when I had left her protective nest. She strove to help put me on as sturdy a footing as possible as soon as I walked through the doors because she knew that the world beyond her reassuring reach would not be so forgiving.

Looking back, the behavior which led my boss to dole out sage wisdom in her typical no frills, borderline tough love style, came from a place of innocence on my part. It was an obvious rookie misstep. Believing in my abilities in spite of my lack of deep technical experience, she'd managed to bring me in to join her team, part-time at first. She desperately needed some additional hands to help tackle the mountain of work that her full-time team could no longer focus on because of a sudden tripling in workload; the happy result of a recent, super, successful, new product launch. My task seemed fairly simple at the outset: review a bunch of historical research from a handful of different countries; find the patterns and inconsistencies; then present thoughtful recommendations to the broader team.

"Well, this is a lot, but I've got what it takes, right?" were my initial thoughts. I don't think I actually said many words while the request was being explained to me. For sure, if I did, none of them were questions. So I left her office feeling excited and ready to tackle my very first big-girl corporate assignment. I returned to my cubicle and started opening the files from my email. One by one, I quickly clicked through each report and became increasingly overwhelmed by all that I in-fact did not know: the jargon, the acronyms; the differences in the way each report was assembled; the numbers... all. those. numbers.

I shut my laptop and headed to the coffee cart by the elevators when our friendly coffee lady stopped on our floor. I was eager to take a break, because by then, my brain was swimming with thoughts of doom and doubt. Wait, I have no idea what a corporate-style 'synthesis' looks like! What does she mean by 'synthesis'? Is that a summary or are they used to something completely different around here? I felt silly for feeling so ill-prepared, and worried about being found out for this.

I returned to my desk to continue to inflict more mental wounds; I'm not supposed to be here. I'm the only one here who hasn't worked in the field that they were hired to work in before. I'm not sure she knew what she would be getting into when she hired me. And on I went. I spent most of the day beating myself up for not being able to figure things out more quickly and kept all these feelings to myself. The next day, I resolved to get moving and did what I could to get on top of the request so that I could prove to my boss that she'd not made a mistake in bringing me on. I did everything...well, I did everything that is, except ask for help.

Before the final delivery of my presentation, I'd set up a meeting to share my progress and get feedback from my boss. By that point, I had worked so hard on perfecting every slide that I'd convinced myself that the presentation was awesome. Yes, awesome. I was proud of what I'd overcome and was eager to see my boss' reaction to what I'd done; what I'd thought was really good work.

But she wasn't on the same page. She didn't think that it was awful, but her stiffly placed pointer-finger over her lips, revealed a subtle discomfort; like she was not quite unhappy, but not thrilled either, and did not want to say too much right away so as not to bruise my ego. After I'd gone through the first section of the presentation, she finally stopped me. She posed two pointed questions which were meant to help orient her as she listened to my story, but were really not-so thinly veiled pieces of constructive feedback: "What's the objective of this presentation?" and "Who is this presentation for?" I was completely thrown off... and deeply humbled.

As I stumbled over my answers, I could feel my body's temperature increasing as waves of embarrassment seeped into the places where certainty once occupied. To her credit, my boss knew exactly what she was doing. My presentation was aesthetically beautiful and showed that I'd put a lot of work into extracting the big AHAs, but it lacked the cohesion it needed to be a compelling story that would keep an audience's attention or spark meaningful thinking and conversation.

In addition to asking about the presentation's objective and intended audience, my boss also inquired why I hadn't come to her earlier on to clarify these questions, and any others that I might have had. I confessed lied and said that I didn't think I needed the help because the request was clear and straightforward. The truth, as you now know, was that I was scared.

I equated asking for help with weakness. So I kept my mouth shut and my head down; plowed through the research using Google as my substitute teacher to close the knowledge gaps that remained in the transition from Grad School to Real Work; looked through the work of others who came before me to get a flavor for what 'good' looked like; and worked into the wee hours of the morning to put it all together.

I wanted to over-deliver and exceed expectations. But while I worked overtime, my boss heard silence coming from my direction. And that quiet... that gaping void in communication, unfortunately did more harm than good. In the absence of news, we human beings have evolved to fill the gaps. We unconsciously fill the gaps with whatever makes the most sense to us so that we can move on and deal with more important things. In my case, my silence led my boss to fill the gap with the belief that I really did have it all covered, because (she assumed), if I needed help, I would have come to her.

As our feedback session continued, she went on to explain how important it was to overcome the fear of asking for help; and that the first step was to change my view of it from a sign of weakness to a show of courage; and that the MAGIC was in being able to find the right way to communicate the need for help.

So rather than just saying, "I need help," the key was to do it (1) during the first point of contact in order to clarify hypotheses, concerns, risks, deadlines and any other areas of ambiguity before running off to do the work, and (2) at appropriate intervals during the actual work to informally-check in on progress so that helpful guidance could be given. More than helping to set expectations and reduce the chances of disappointment upon delivery of the work, doing these things would help to foster trust, build credibility and enhance the feelings of collaboration and teamwork critical to my standing on the team, and ultimately my career.

Luckily for me, this experience and the above lessons which came from it, were well-contained: it occurred on the early side of my career; was oriented around my first project; my 'requester' was my manager; and said manager was a caring female leader in the company who saw potential in me and always took the time to coach me on the softer, more nuanced side of leadership. I am thankful that I was in a safe space to fail and learn quickly.

Now I recognize that having this 'safe space to fail' is a bit of a luxury. I also understand that many managers simply do not have the patience for, the inclination towards, or capacity for this kind of coaching. So if I can offer up any advice to those who are early in career, stressed out about delivering excellent work, but also struggling to make progress: it would be to ask for help. You may feel extremely nervous about admitting that you don't know, or are confused - but if you've taken steps, any steps at all, to try to tackle the challenge (looking through the presentation that you were emailed counts! talking to a colleague to get their thoughts also counts!) you're off to a strong start.

Thoughts on how to confidently ask for help

Try communicating that you've "made some inroads, but have a question" or that you'd "like to set up time to ask a few questions to ensure that you're on the right path" or that you have "some ideas on how to tackle the challenge but wanted to get feedback on them."

But whatever you do, try not sit silently at your desk until the nth hour, or plowing away on a task in the wrong direction only to learn that you've been off course when it's too late. Ask for help, be humble, then overdeliver.

Go ahead. Give it a try. It's worth the shot.

What happens when you find the courage to speak up, then no one listens

Even though it happened many years ago, my first public belittling is a memory that, when recalled, causes my chest to seize up and my heart to race like I am experiencing the whole dreadful thing all over again.

I had been blessed with a gem of a manager who had been an exceptional first coach and mentor, and had been given the freedom to share my thoughts in any forum because I was told that there was value in my unique perspective, and that I was valued as well. I had no problem doing this in meetings, perhaps because people and conversation did not scare me, but I found it difficult to start doing this in writing.

In the written form, an impression of my voice, or a manifestation of my 'voice' would remain indelibly, I would have no knowledge of whether the message was ever actually received, no ability to clarify if my thoughts were vague or unclear, and no control over how my words would be interpreted. To top it off, I also did not know what point-of-view (because I had many) would be most interesting for me to spend time writing about and also be appreciated by the reader. So I stalled, I made excuses only I knew about, I focused on tackling other things on my work to-do list and put the whole 'share your point of view on a meaty topic' thing on the back-burner until some event (and sadly I don't recall what the exact impetus was) created a space and time for my thoughts to flow. So I went for it.

The topic must have carried some importance or meaning to me at the time - I vaguely remember it having to do with the elements of a strong new product concept - and maybe there was also a lot of circuitous debate going on around me about said topic that seemed to be never-ending and therefore negatively affecting my ability to do good work. I must have spent a couple hours typing up a summary of my perspective because by then I had lots to say, and then another two and a half hours obsessing thinking about the best email subject line to increase the chances that the message would at least get opened and hopefully read. I was crazy nervous when I finally hit the send button, but mostly content and relieved. I'd accomplished something that I'd wanted to do, given full support to pursue, and would push me further along the road to being even more fully present, fully myself, in all aspects of my work.

I tried to move on to other tasks after that. It was just the beginning of the day and there was lots still to do. But I was dealing with a complex mix of new emotions as a professional; pride, fear, excitement, worry, hope - and was distracted for most of my remaining engagements.

In one of our many epic one-one-one check in meetings that almost always inevitably turned into a coaching session (which I loved!), my manager explained that the main purpose of sharing these perspectives was to get people to think about a topic in a new way so that the resultant conversations which needed to happen to move an initiative forward were enriched and ultimately, better decisions could be made. She also cautioned that we should never, ever do it for the response.

If you attach yourself and your emotions to the outcome, you'll find yourself feeling disappointed more often than not. Do it because you believe that it is the right thing to do and the team would benefit from having this information, bolstered by your thoughts.

Still, it was MY first time, and I was very much attached to the outcome. I absolutely wanted a response from someone...anyone... and I wanted it to be positive. A validation of my smarts and my bravery.

So when that response came in the form of a single sentence (which I paraphrase here because I have long deleted the correspondence and don't recall the exact subject of the POV) - "Thanks for sharing, but I'm not a fan of this approach" - I was devastated. Not crying on the floor unable to function devastated, but I was deeply disappointed and, to be honest, also a little hurt. In retrospect, the sender of that email, who was far more senior and had years and years of experience managing people and working in teams, could and should have displayed more empathy in responding to me. But I had no control over her reaction at the time and don't want to digress into the topic of empathic leadership here.

None of us have control over anyone's reactions to us and what we do. The only thing we have any control over is ourselves, how we condition ourselves to react to different situations, how we channel the emotions, and how we transform negative energy into positive energy... because negative energy is a huge waste.

Fast forward to today. Being able to articulate my thoughts in spoken or written word is not an act of bravery, nor is it something that I have to think about or prepare to do. Years of practice, coaching, a naturally feisty personality and a curious mind have made the act of sharing my perspective an almost thrilling experience. It gives me energy. But I would be lying to you if I said that criticism or dismissal of my thoughts in public forums (something that still happens to me, perhaps a little less frequently than before as I've learned to bring more nuance to how and when and to whom I share my thoughts) didn't hit me straight in the gut and for an instant, make me feel slightly less than.

It's okay though, because the feeling passes even more quickly than it took to type that last sentence, and I remind myself why I shared my thoughts in the first place (because I believed what I had to say was important and would help open people's eyes to a new perspective), I thank the person for their thoughts because they too, were courageous in sharing their dissent which also adds to everyone else's thoughts and to the broader conversation, and give myself a big, secret, internal hug for being vulnerably courageous.

If you're at the beginning of your own journey in finding the confidence to find your voice, check out this earlier post in which I share some of my experiences and thoughts on how to take the first step.

If you've found your voice and have experienced a dismissal of your thoughts, I'm curious about how you processed it and your thoughts on how to move on. Please share in the comments section below.

It's OK to Introduce Your Coworkers to 'Weekend You'

How different is the Weekday You from Weekend You? If you've crafted a unique persona for the office to deal with the demands of work or to better fit in with your company's culture, you're not alone.

I once worked with a young woman who confided in me about having created two very distinct identities - a professional and polite weekday persona, and a political and social activist weekend persona - which she went to great extents not to mix.

I asked her why she kept her lives so separate, and was struck by the conviction she expressed in explaining why cultivating and maintaining a weekday character - one that was extremely subdued, smiling and compliant - was essential to her survival in Corporate America. I understand why she felt the need to make microscopic adjustments to how she 'showed up' at work in order to survive her different professional experiences, but couldn't relate to some of the more extreme measures she had chosen to take to conceal her true personality.

So I talked to more people who felt similarly to better understand why they felt that they had no choice but to hide from office-view, the versions of themselves that only family and friends had the joy of experiencing - their Weekend selves. The reasons given were extremely nuanced and complicated, so I've tried to extract from their stories the most common themes:

1. There are right and wrong ways to present yourself - or at least this is how you feel when you are given subtle messages every day that suggest this to be true, depending on the culture of the company or team that you've found yourself in. Everything from the way the majority dresses to the topics of conversation at the lunch table, cue what is acceptable and unacceptable in implicit ways.
2. It pays to change because non-conformity can affect your pocket. Sometimes the retaliation you fear will come to you when you share anything personal about yourself, is financial in nature. It may manifest as the absence of, or reduction in, some monetary incentive that you were expecting, and your gut tells you that this did not result from poor performance (although you don't have any tangible proof). Unfortunately, for many of us, this is too much of a risk to take.
3. Fear of being judged. This is one of the more prevalent underlying reasons for not revealing our Weekend personas to our co-workers. Oftentimes, 'being yourself' or being 'authentic' sound more like cute catchphrases - nice to utter, but few understand what the terms really mean or how to approach it... and even fewer actually put authenticity into daily practice. So we end up being starved for real-life examples of people (above and around us) who bring their whole selves to work while still being successful. And so we're left with a lingering question - if no one else is shedding their superhero mask at the office, then why should I?
4. You were taught that concealing your true self is a prerequisite for success. And this is the toughest one because as adults, the hardest beliefs and attitudes to undo, are the ones that were handed down to us by our elders when we were children.

But being yourself at work doesn't have to be a binary concept.

Although going all the way to having split personalities doesn't seem like the right way to go because of all the emotional energy that one has to use to maintain two distinct personas (think about how stressful it is to keep a secret about yourself from someone you see every day), I recognize that if you haven't been practicing being fully yourself at work for a long time, then making an abrupt change can seem like an enormous task. So why not start slowly and take some baby steps?

• Reveal something about yourself to a co-worker you trust. ...nothing too personal if you're not comfortable or a solid and trust-worthy working relationship has not yet been established. It could be as simple as sharing a little insight into what you like to do when you're not working. Start there and see where it goes.
• Try dressing a wee bit more like your weekend self at work. ...nothing drastic if you're not into this or are already feeling very much like yourself in your work attire. But if you feel like you have to put on a straight jacket every day of the week, and that translates into an outside-in transformation that you'd like to revert, then (within reason) try literally loosening up a bit if you can. Lose the tie! Add some color! Wear those comfy flats! (Ladies, check out Corporette for some fashion ideas that straddle the worlds of uber corporate and weekend chic.)
• Find an office inspiration. Be on the lookout for someone at work who looks like they've already got things figured out. Well not ALL things, but at least this tricky idea of bringing your whole self to work ... and invite them out to tea/coffee to ask them how they managed to pull it off.

If you have more tips to share based on your own experience, I would love for you to share them here. [Please comment below.]

Also, I'm so FAR from being an expert on the topic and am only seeking to help by sharing my own thoughts and experiences. So please check out Brené Brown's inspiring TED Talk on The Power of Vulnerability to learn more about why it's better to bring your true 'Weekend Self' to work every day from an expert who has studied the topic and spoken prolifically about it over the years.