Fool’s Gold

What’s the line between bragging and confidence? How can we own our expertise without feeling like our ego is edging everyone else out of the room?

As so many friends hit a truly tough job market, I’ve had a lot of conversations about what it means to stand in the power of your experience. So many of them have traveled through long and exceptional careers, but expressing their value in an authentic way can still trip them up.

What’s worse, some folks don’t even seem to truly see what they’re worth. I can’t tell you how many colleagues I’ve talked to who don’t realize just how good they are. In a world where LinkedIn feels as filtered as Instagram, it’s easy for doubt to creep in.

A few weeks ago, a friend recommended an episode of Mel Robbins’ podcast titled “The Most Important Career Advice You’ll Ever Hear.” I like a big promise!

In the episode, Mel interviewed a Harvard Business School professor, Dr. Allison Wood Brooks, an expert on negotiation and communication. What I loved most about the episode was the simple perspective shifts she suggests that take you from “Here’s what I can do,” to “Here’s how my skills position me to fill that need effectively.” Recognizing our own expertise without sounding like a chatbot resume writer can be hard, but seeing how it can fit into the larger context of an organization changes the narrative in a meaningful way. If you have time, give it a listen.

(PS: If you need some real life help branding yourself in the market, I have a crackerjack recommendation for an expert coach who can help, and I am happy to share. I promise it’s not me.)

Death Defying Act

The Skate Key

My dad died two years ago this month. One thing about death and the journey of grief is that we often start to think, after some time, that we’re not supposed to talk about it. Which is strange, because we think about it all the time.

I think about my dad every single day, many times a day. Everything reminds me of him. My morning coffee. The sound of the news on the radio. A story I want to tell him. Using a letter opener to open my mail. Jeopardy. I miss him acutely, and his loss feels like a hole in my throat, a wound that will never close.

Another thing about death is that there isn’t much we can do about it. We have to figure out how to keep going despite the dull ache we feel all the time, even in the happy moments.

In my most recent blog, I share one of the things that has helped me, which is doing more of what I want. That’s the other thing about death: It reminds you that you truly have to live—even if living requires substantial protective equipment (spoiler). Click below to read about my slow and creaky Roller Derby debut.