A Thank You To My First Mentor

When I was nine years old, my mom returned to the workforce after a 13-year career break. Financially, we were struggling, so my parents decided to forgo finding an afterschool babysitter. Instead, I became your stereotypical eighties latch-key kid, walking home from the bus stop on my own, with a Papa Smurf keychain that said, “Don’t Lose These Keys!” and an afternoon that was a blank slate. 

Having grown up to that point with a stay at home mom, I struggled with all of the new-found freedom at first. In the first few weeks, I called my mom two or three times an afternoon—and you can guess how this went over with her employer. She had to cut me off, limit me to one 5-minute conversation and then I was left to figure out how to fill the rest of my afternoon. 

Then it happened. I found myself an inspirational mentor I could check in with five afternoons a week at 4PM, Eastern Standard Time. 

Oprah. 

I was riveted by her energy, optimism and belief that anybody could be anything and that anybody could get through anything. 

I was taken by the confidence and authority in her words—even when she didn’t look like anyone else I saw on TV. Already at nine, I was aware that my body was bigger and different than most of my classmates, so to see someone standing in her power simply as herself was a tremendous relief. I was grateful to know that this was possible. 

My relationship with my mentor grew over time. On the days her show was a bit sensational for my taste, I simply used it as background fodder for snacking and homework. But the days when she dug into the human experience: resilience, persistence, empathy, compassion, finding courage to stand in your convictions—I was hooked. 

I leaned most on that personal leadership foundation built during my mentor sessions in the initial weeks after my parents died in a car accident when I was eleven. I went to therapy and had the unconditional support of my extended family—but it was the Oprah Kool-Aid that truly kept me going. I’d seen first-hand how people could survive the most horrific tragedies and live to talk about it on the show. I often thought about how I would share my story with Oprah, and how she might grab my hand and tell me that I was brave. In that moment, when the rest of my family was reeling in grief and had no clue what to say to me, in my mind, Oprah knew how to be with me and I would feel in my bones that I was brave. I believed it. And it was that belief that started so small and grew to become all that I am. A survivor and someone who knows with every cell that anybody can be anything and get through anything. 

Looking back on that time now with my coach training, I know my conversations with Oprah televised in my mind, were my pre-teen version of visualization that kept me in the space of explaining my resilience, my compassion for myself and my belief that I was going to make it through. I remember keeping it to myself thinking I was either just a super fan or a little crazy—but that was actually quite an insightful strategy for an 11-year-old! 

Now that I’m in the business of helping people step out of their fears and into a life of their design, I call on my early training often and I’m certain that these were the days I first fell in love with this work. I’d be lying if I said I gave up on my mentor conversations. When I’m struggling with something in my business or in life, I picture myself in Oprah’s Santa Barbara backyard, filming our Super Soul Sunday episode and somehow, I always find my way back to being both brave and truly seen. 

In Search Of A Space To Be Imperfect

By sheer coincidence or not, my oldest daughter took her statewide English Language Arts test the same week I was preparing for my first leadership workshop with a new coaching group that I am thrilled to be joining forces with. Tensions were high in my neighborhood, where over 50% of students opted out of the controversial state testing this year. 

Walking my daughter through our reasoning behind the test being a non-negotiable in our household, while simultaneously navigating my own fears and creeping doubts about stepping into this new space of training women how to be leaders—work that is directly connected to my WHY—was nothing short of surreal. "Of course we want you to do your best, which we know you will do, but we also want you to practice taking a test. To know that this may be hard AND you can do hard things in life. We want you to know that we love you and you’re going to be OK, no matter how you do. We’ll work with you to help you learn from your experience of taking this test. This is all a chance to learn something new in your life."

As the words left my mouth, I knew they were also meant for me. That may or may not be why I had tears in my eyes as I spoke. Meanwhile she turned to me and said, "It’s OK, Mom. I know. I’m actually excited for the test!" So, perhaps the pep talk was a bit more for me than for my march to the beat of her own drum kind of girl. 

I sent my mentor off to fourth grade and decided to create some space for myself to practice, to move through the fear, and to be imperfect. 

I danced it out to my favorite power song, Sara Bareilles’ Brave. Then, I wrote the word, "COURAGE" in all caps across the white board hanging above my desk. 

I told myself, "My first time walking through this is going to be truly rough. Right now, I’m simply learning the content. It doesn’t need to sound good yet." Imperfection in progress. I’ve learned this lesson with my writing over time and I’m completely on board with writing a "shitty first draft." (Thanks, Anne Lamott!) Somehow, a shitty first pass coming through my voice has always been tougher to bear! No better time to learn. "I’m excited about the test!" Oh yes, what an exciting chance to practice. And I’m not just practicing, I’m expanding.

Every time I tripped up my words and became frustrated, I thought about my WHY. 

Get more women into positions of power.

And I redoubled my energy and my efforts. I thought of the rapt faces of my imminent audiences. I visualized telling a room full of 30 women to stop apologizing and imagined the impact that very statement could have had on my early career. 

In day two of my preparation, my daughter was home sick and begged to watch me practice part of the workshop. My immediate response was nothing short of sheer terror, but then I thought—if I can teach her these skills at age 10—imagine how badass she’s going to be? I walked through a couple of my slides and she was FULLY engaged. "What are filler words? What do you mean by up-speak? Oh yeah, why do people talk that way?" Smiling from ear to ear, she interrupted me to say, "Mom! You are such a good coach. I could listen to this stuff all day." 

In that moment, I’d already won. She saw my fear, my hard work and the space I created for imperfection—and it was worth it for me, because getting to my goal as exactly who I am was more powerful than my fear. I’m proud to learn that lesson at my age and if you can learn it at 10, imagine what else you can do.
 

Choosing Peace Instead Of Busy

One of my closest friends often teases me when it comes to making plans, "You say no a lot." I simply smile and agree whole-heartedly. Yes! Yes, I do say no. I do the mental math to avoid overbooking. On the weekend, if I’m struggling to make something fit in, I assume it won’t. If it feels like something I "should" do instead of something that I want to do, I politely decline. 

I wasn’t always this way. I was as crazed and addicted to busyness as most people I know. But all of sudden, I was having thoughts that I wanted to leave our beloved urban Brooklyn neighborhood for the suburbs. I wanted to take a summer off and spend time upstate. Those changes felt simultaneously overwhelming and necessary. At the time I was also making the switch from my corporate job to building my own business and as part of my transition, I revisited my values and the life I wanted to create for myself. And there it was. Peace had snuck in under the radar as one of my core values. 

It felt like too many changes at one time to leave my corporate job AND our neighborhood and family support, so I said to myself, "If peace and calm is so important to me, how do I bring it into the life I’m currently living? How can I add peace without making dramatic changes?" As it turns out, this was quite a fun exercise! 

I made a list of peace possibilities:

1. Add non-negotiable writing time into my week.

2. Decrease subway time.

3. Plan a vacation in February, the shortest but feels like the longest month.

4. Go to fewer crowded school events with a gazillion screaming kids—especially when my kids are not asking to go!

5. Take walks in the middle of the day.

6. Add buffer time into my schedule—as in not scheduling my day with back-to-back appointments.

7. Add more unstructured time into my life and less weekend overscheduling.

8. Set clear boundaries about when I can see people and when I can’t. Don’t say, "We should get together." if I don’t mean it.

9. Don’t apologize when I can’t see people. I’m either available or I’m not. No need to apologize.

10. Implementing my new possibilities was as liberating as making the list. When I would get an email from a fellow parent saying, "Will we see you at the Pajama and Pizza Party at the preschool?" I would simply say, "I’ve stopped going to those things." Instead I’d take a walk with the kids or take them to the park. Ah, peace—why have I not chosen you before?

Even beyond the overt ways I’ve diminished noise in my life with less commuting and crowded school events, the addition of clearer boundaries with plans and relationships has helped me to wipe out the mental noise that kept me from the peace I was desiring. I know I’m clear on my commitments and I don’t have a lot of maybes taking up valuable space in my head. In looking at this list now, I can say that of all the changes I’ve made in my life in the past 4 years, these were among the easiest to stick with and have made a tremendous impact on my happiness and wellbeing. Some people thrive in scheduled, busy lives. I’ve learned I’m not one of them—and I’m OK with that. It may mean that things move more slowly than I would have expected, or maybe it doesn’t. Either way, I’ll find out—and with my peace list in play, I’ll be much more fun to be around in the process.
 

When Leaving The Job Is The Best Option

I’m not the coach who will advise you to quit your day job to find your dream job. In fact, as a coach, I help you find your answers instead of advising anything based on my own experiences. I also help you mine the data of your life to discover options you didn’t know were possible. 

That said, there are many clients who come to me in a dark place. They’re in toxic work environments. They’re hunched, curled up in stress and panic-stricken—cortisol racing through their veins. If I owned a compassion blanket, I would swaddle them in it. Instead, I create a space where they can loosen the release valve, fall apart and reassemble themselves in a world where things are going to be OK. 

Because things are going to be OK. 

It may feel like this shit storm of a job and a life is your only choice. It’s not. You have options. 

With some clients, when they know they need to leave—they create an interim plan to help them get there. They set new boundaries in their role to create time and space to reflect on what they want. They network, they hone their stories and they make their search a priority WHILE they’re at their jobs. They may not be knocking it out of the park at work, but they’re doing well and what they need to do to get the job done. For some, this is possible and it’s a busy, but exciting path forward. 

For others, their paralysis takes up so much mental space and energy, even the smallest baby step feels like an exhausting marathon. The idea of looking for a job while they have a job sounds practical, but completely impossible. In the midst of a crisis of self-esteem and confidence, the exercise of listing strengths and passions feels more like a creative writing assignment than self-reflection. 

When I sit across from someone tangled in knots like this, we open an investigation. 

What would a reboot look like? Is a short break—or better yet, a sabbatical—to figure it all out possible? We brainstorm all the data points that need collecting so an informed decision can be made. 

Here are some of the questions we ask to go beyond the fear and emotion and get grounded in the facts. 

1. What are your monthly expenses?

2. Can you decrease your expenses for a period of time?

3. Do you have enough savings to take a short break? And if so, how long would it be?

4. If you don’t have the savings, is there a more temporary, flexible job you can take on for a period of time to create more space for you?

5. Given that we are in a time of streamlining organizations, is there a way to raise your hand for severance or a package at your company?

6. Do you have a temporary way to cover health insurance?

7. If you have a partner, are you and your partner on the same page about your break?

8. Do you have the emotional support of your family and friends?

9. What are your goals for your sabbatical?

10. What action will you take during your break to refuel and rebuild?

11. What do you want to learn on your break?

Then, they crunch the numbers. They map out the scenarios. They review their choices that are based in data and reality and not in fear. For some, that exercise may be enough to remove the anvil from their backs. Simply knowing there’s a way out if they need it, is a way to help them begin to move forward with their search while still in their jobs. And for those who decide to take the sabbatical, they show up in my office with wide smiles that glimmer—one part pride, one part disbelief and the rest knowing an entire world is theirs for the taking.