The other night my neighbor’s kids, ages 7 and 10—the same age as mine—were over our place. The four kids decided to play RummiKub, which I recently purchased thinking it would be a great game to play during our summer vacation (and yes, I’m counting down the days). While I didn’t grow up in a Scrabble-loving family like many of my peers (and I have the abysmal Scrabble skills to prove it), RummiKub was a family past-time of ours when our bellies were full after huge Sunday bagel brunches. And the stories of my dad rearranging the entire board, only to be left with one red 8 that we needed to put it all back together for—were legendary in our home. 

So, when the kids began to play their game for the first time together, I put my arm on my husband’s shoulder, took in the idyllic scene and said, "This warms my heart." 

But within five minutes, voices got loud and angry. There was interrupting and eye rolling, and I jumped in to see what could have brought all of this on so quickly. 

As it turns out, there were two sets of rules under hot debate. When my kids put down a joker with two other 10’s, they were naming the color that joker was supposed to be, so that when there was a 10 of that color in hand, the joker could be used. My neighbors put down a joker with two 10’s, and in order to use that joker, both of the remaining 10’s needed to be in hand in order to make the swap. 

One of my daughters yelled, "Well, I’m not playing that way because it’s JUST NOT FUN!" 

And my other one suggested, "They’re our guests so maybe we should play their way this time." 

There was much reciting of the written instructions, which made no mention of this distinction. And Alexa proved useless this time around. 

They stood at an impasse for awhile, until they decided to just make another move and not address jokers in their close to bedtime, grumpy states. 

In the grand scheme of things, this tiny and insignificant rule in a game seems like it has no bearing on our lives. Yet for me, it shined a light on how many of these small, unsubstantiated rules we let govern our worlds, and how our reaction to the rules of others impacts our abilities to be in relationships with them. 

When everyone’s had a good night’s sleep and some space, we’ll inspire our kids to work out an agreement about how they can move forward playing a fun game they all love when they are working off a different set of rules—instead of deciding to never play that game again because their different set of rules makes them too different to find a solution. In this context, the latter approach may sound crazy, but I assure you 1) that’s often our gut instinct and 2) you can think of a moment in your career or your life where you chose to avoid the situation because of a small rule on which you couldn’t agree. 

Now more than ever, we are sorted in our own factions because of a multitude of rules we hold to be true that ladder up to identities. When I coach or train leaders, I work with them to question their assumptions and what they believe to be "rules" all day long. In order to live in a world where people hold different beliefs, we must learn to value those differences, seeing them as opportunities to learn more about humanity. Once we do, we can step out of judgment on the origin of those rules and into curiosity about how we work within a context of common ground that is enhanced by differences, not divided. 

The first half of last week, I fed my introverted side (which is a full 50% of me) with writing, new product development, and phone sessions. Translation: I barely left my house for three days. While I got a lot done, I felt hungry for some connection with other humans. When my kids came home, I found myself telling them about my day the way I would talk to a friend. While it’s always fun to share my work with my girls, defining dozens of words wasn’t exactly the kind of conversation I was going for in that moment. 

And then Thursday hit—the first of two days I was participating in an HR conference on behalf of Sayge, one of the coaching companies I work with. Built into day one was lunch, and a gathering for all Sayge coaches—twelve of us total—plus the founders. Beyond the delicious (and gluten-free!) lunch, I was well fed with all I needed. Collaboration. Curiosity. Inspiration from others doing it their own way, as well as acknowledgement of my hard work from a group of people I admire and respect. We all brought our own strengths and uniqueness to the fold, making the work much more vibrant, and the belly laughs that much harder to breathe through. 

At the end of day two, not only did we play a critical role in the conference—facilitating workshops that inspired new solutions to common HR problems—but we also walked away reminded that we have a posse of people who believe in us on this exciting and intense journey that is business ownership. That we have a community to hold us up and to make us better. By coming together and each bringing 100% collectively, we grew exponentially. 

Here are five ways I work with clients to cultivate community to boost their careers:

1. Join a mastermind group
For those of you unfamiliar with a mastermind group, it is a peer-to-peer mentoring group used to help members solve their problems with input and advice from the other group members. The concept was developed in 1925 by author Napoleon Hill in his book The Law of Success, and described in more detail in his 1937 book, Think and Grow Rich. I’ve been a part of one since September and it has pushed me and my business in ways I didn’t expect. Not only do I run some of my new product ideas and pricing by the group, but I also share wins and fears in an ongoing group text we call, “Mastermind Brilliance.” The accountability and support are unmatched. Thanks, MB team! You can start your own group for free or you can find someone in your field who may be running a robust group for a fee. 

2. Become a member of an association or industry networking group
For those of you in corporate or non-profit jobs, one way to find community out of your company is by joining an industry group that will offer networking and professional development, in addition to community. There are many groups, meetups, and industry associations out there, so what I would recommend is that you shop around to see the vibe that works for you and then go deep and commit to one group. Don’t overwhelm yourself with community—that goes against your very reasons for seeking it out in the first place! 

3. Pick up a part-time role with a larger organization
Just as I’m a part of Sayge as a part-time opportunity, if you’re currently a solo practitioner, consultant or have a flexible full-time role, and you have the bandwidth to add on another part-time role that has community baked into it—that could be a great way to go. With this approach, my clients often find the community and professional development parts of the role are even more valuable than the hourly rate. 

4. Volunteer for a cause about which you’re passionate
With this one, you can do double-duty. Oh, how I love efficiency. You know that cause you’ve been meaning to donate money to, but felt like you didn’t have the extra to spare? Donate time and get to know the employees and other volunteers. Build your community around the people who care as deeply as you do for the causes that are close to your heart. There’s nothing that connects people more than stepping outside of their own lives and giving together. 

5. Find a fitness group
Get your workout in AND find your people. Again, efficiency, I love it so. When I trained for the NYC Marathon with Team In Training, I met some of the best people Brooklyn had to offer as I learned how to push my body in ways I didn’t think possible. The wonderful part about finding your people around fitness is that they also know that while fitness is physical—it’s a mind game. They can hold you accountable to goals to push yourself beyond what you can do for your body. And then there’s the simple energy math. Regular exercise in your happy place with your buddies means more energy, ideas, and flow in your work. 

When we’re in our routines and on our own paths in isolation, that’s when we can get stuck. We are wired for connection—some of us more than others—so it’s important to experiment with the right balance for you. There’s no need to jump in head first and over commit to a community right away. You will grow to resent it. Dip in a toe, see how the water feels, and feel free to stay in the shallow end for awhile if that’s all you can add into your life right now. Notice how your community is impacting your results in your career and in your life—and if you’re anything like me, you’ll walk away from two energizing days with your peeps wearing a perma-grin and feeling gratitude with a capital g. 

My first experience consulting in my career was back in 2005 during what I've affectionately named, “The Summer of Rachel.” I was part of a large downsizing at my company, so I was about to enjoy three months of severance that fell squarely in the summer months before my September wedding (I know—this was quite a coup). At the same time, the new leadership at the company that laid me off needed my expertise to pull off a website refresh. They hired me back as a consultant to lead the project, and I negotiated a schedule that was in synch with wedding planning, interviewing for a new role, and enjoying everything The Summer of Rachel had to offer (which was mostly tooling around my neighborhood in pink pumas and sundresses). 

As someone who put in significant hours throughout my career to that point (most of them on-site), it was quite a moment to learn I could work in the office 3 days a week, name a competitive hourly rate, and continue to make a significant impact on the business—delivering quality work. I breathed in freedom, control, and gratitude for an in-demand expertise I cultivated over years of hard work. Throughout that summer, I felt truly alive in my career. While severance plus consulting rate had something to do with that—it wasn’t everything. I LOVED having agency over my choices, my schedule, and my priorities. That feeling prompted me to work even harder and more efficiently during my work hours AND get more done in my personal life. There were no idle hours for the sake of face time and that helped me realize my personal style of integrating life and work for maximum efficiency. 

While I did move on to another full-time role after that summer, I was certain I would be back to consulting life again in my career when the time was right. This experiment was proof that it was a possibility for me, giving me the flexibility and control needed if priorities shifted yet again. And that is just how it happened. When my older daughter was 6 months old, I left my full-time role and consulted for the next 8 years. I flexed between three and four days a week for the duration of those years, led a department, built a social media presence and several premium digital experiences, and most importantly, developed relationships that make me beyond proud of what I accomplished. 

There were times in the first few years I felt I put my career on hold or I was envious of friends who had what I often called, “The Big Job.” But somehow I knew, this was the right thing for me at the time. I felt like I could succeed in both work and family—and make a good living in less time. 

I see a growing number of women in my coaching practice who are on the consulting path as a way to stand by their career non-negotiables which are often things like freedom, control, flexibility, autonomy, creativity, or authenticity. And the trend with my clients matches up with what’s happening across the country. According to projections in the Freelancing in America Survey, released by the Freelancers Union and the freelance platform Upwork, “50.9% of the U.S. population will be freelancing by 2027 if a current uptick in freelancing continues at its current pace.”

For those who are considering consulting as a possible path, I work with them to think through the following:

1. What’s your vision for how you want your career to look? What are your non-negotiables for your next chapter? More on this in my post, The Career Contract You Make With Yourself.

2. What services could you offer that exist within the intersection of your passions and strengths?

3. What’s your financial picture? What do you need to bring in from your consultancy to contribute to your bottom line? Bring your accountant into this conversation for guidance!

4. Who in your network might be interested in these services? Make a LONG list of people to get you started.

5. How do you feel about hustling and selling your services? Consulting takes a resilience and relative comfort with rejection. If selling is already a strength or it’s something you’re committed to learning—this could be an option for you.

6. Where will you source your healthcare?

7. How can you experiment with taking on consulting projects while you’re still at a 9-5? This can sound daunting, but a time of experimentation with this new kind of life could be the very thing you need to figure out if it’s for you.

After doing your due diligence to figure out if this is a viable option for you, you may decide you can get your non-negotiables from a full-time gig. If so, I encourage you to have compassion for yourself. Be grateful that you’ve figured out what you truly want and be open to the package in which it shows up. 

For those of you who decided to consult at one point, thought it would be temporary, and 5 or 10 years later realized this isn’t a passing interest or need, this is THE thing you want to do, there’s always time to make your consultancy more of a thing or a business. I know this, because I’ve helped many of you do just that! You can polish up your website, have an elevator pitch ready to go, hone in on your “Why” for doing what you do, turn up the volume on your marketing—and go do the work you want to do, on your own terms. 

I spent this past holiday weekend with close friends who have three teenagers. I know when you hear teenagers, you think you know where this is going, but truly you don’t. They are three of the coolest teenagers I’ve ever met, so I was simultaneously taking copious notes and wholeheartedly grateful for friends who experience every parenting milestone before me and share the goods. Our "nieces and nephew" are smart, curious, interesting and interested in others around them. 

They have their entire lives and careers ahead of them. I was so excited for them and their collective potential that I found myself giving a TED Talk at every turn. They humored me, even asked insightful questions, but to be honest—even I was tiring of the Rachel B Garrett Career Boot-Camp Intensive Weekend by day three. So on that day, I decided to chill the F out, ride a lawnmower tractor (when in the suburbs!) and get curious about my need for a career monologue. 

It comes down to this: I don’t do regret anymore. That said, seeing these fresh faces and wide eyes, I wanted to give them all of the answers to the test. The secret shortcuts. The map to the landmines. All of the stuff I needed to figure out by failing and failing hard. Ironically, by spoon-feeding it to them, I would be robbing them of the opportunity to truly learn the lessons. Instead, I’ll distill them into themes I wish I knew when I was just starting out in my career…and we can see what happens from there.

1. We are in a time of inequality, but you can work to change it. 
Growing up a privileged white girl, I was taught (and believed) we fought for and won equality on many fronts. My dad was an entrepreneur and on both sides of my family, self-made relatives were evidence to me that the American Dream was alive and well. What I neglected to see at the time was that all of these relatives were white men. When I, along with colleagues and friends, began to experience both overt and subtle gender discrimination in our early careers—even with our feminism primers in college—we were still nothing short of shocked. While I’m glad nobody sat me down to definitively tell me what was possible for me and what was not, some middle ground advice would have been helpful. I have a lot to learn in this process, but so far, my approach with my daughters and in my workshops has been, "Let me teach you the tools to advocate for yourself, be a leader and create your life with your choices…in the context of our patriarchal culture fraught with institutional bias." I’m fighting for a world where I don’t have to say things like this, but if you’re a woman, that may mean something as simple as smiling while negotiating and working through your discomfort with self-promotion, so you gain greater visibility in the organization. And for the professionals of color in my workshops, it’s listening to what they need, supporting them with the tools, and providing a safe space to talk through the inequity so they can be the leaders and change-makers in their organizations.

2. Growth is the new perfection.
You’ve heard me say this many times, but perfection is unattainable and is a pointless goal. Growth is the goal. It could look like a world where every failure and mistake is an opportunity to learn, or where there are no wrong decisions, or where we seek out roles that constantly challenge us to learn instead of settling in where we get comfy and stuck. I wish I knew or trusted this idea throughout the first part of my career. I was doing the same kind of digital marketing work over and over again—building new websites and digital experiences. I was hungry for growth, but it felt messy and uncomfortable. The opportunity to focus on growth also allows us to move at our own respective pace to get to our destinations. When growth is the goal, we need not compare ourselves to others in their own (often faster) processes, on their paths. Apples and oranges, friends—and not worth the time comparing. 

3. Follow your curiosity. 
In college I changed my major five times. FIVE TIMES! When I look back to that time with compassion, I realize there was an epic four-year battle between my curious and practical selves. I was prone to epiphanies (still am) and would let my new intrigue lead until my practical hammer came down to redirect my course. When my 5th and final major was chosen—Psychology—the exact same as my first, I secretly wished I was majoring in some kind of writing, but thought, "What are the chances that I could become a writer?" It seemed foolishly optimistic and full of myself. What I didn’t realize at the time was that a creative writing or journalism degree would have been a solid foundation for any number of careers—just as my psychology degree proved to be. And I could have spent all those college years solidly practicing a craft I love and have only late in life given myself the time and space to pursue. 

4. Nurture self-awareness early and often.
Do your early due diligence to figure out who you are and what’s meaningful to you, and continue to ask those same questions as you change. Be courageous when what’s meaningful to you is not the popular thing. It’s what makes you, you! The earlier you develop this honing device, the greater clarity and confidence you can have in your decisions. The clues about who you are also may come from the most unlikely of messengers. I had an eye-opening moment in college, when I made a joke that something (I can’t even remember what) went against everything I stood for and one of my jackass guy friends (there were a few) commented, "You don’t stand for anything." While it felt like a gut-punch, in my sophomore year of navigating my social world, he wasn’t wrong. It prompted me to ask the questions, "What do I stand for? What’s important to me?" And that was another moment when I became involved in feminism, an ongoing thread in my career. 

5. Humanity over hierarchy.
Early in my career, I got hung up on the differences between my VP’s and me. At the internal networking events I stayed with the people at my level and when I did break through and talk to more of the senior leaders—I’m not going to lie—I said some stupid shit. There were a few leaders along the way, with strong emotional intelligence, a clear generosity and a will to take their time in de-icing me—and those are the mentors and memories that stick with me. There was power in knowing I made a connection and saw above the fear that was holding me back. Sometimes I’ll spend a moment wishing I was able to do that more often early on, but I’m also grateful to have learned it in my career at all. I love how as a business owner, out of the hierarchy altogether, I’m able to see how unimportant hierarchical pretense is when it comes to human connection. We all want to be truly seen and heard—and if you can do that with the person next to you, your title is the last thing on anyone’s mind in that moment. 

With at least three decades of career ahead of me (I’m planning a late retirement—if at all!), it’s a wonderful time to distill the lessons down to a plan I can follow and change over time. Most importantly, just as I no longer allow regret, I also practice releasing judgment for my younger self—especially when she changed her major yet again in her senior year. She/I/we were confused. But now, with greater clarity and confidence in who I am, when I address her with compassion, the lessons follow and I savor them as they come into focus.

If you’ve been following along the last couple of months, you know I’ve been delivering a series of corporate workshops with a leader in my field who has become a mentor and friend. I’m learning so much in a compressed period, it feels like I’m either getting my Masters, in the first 90 days of a new job, or both—at the same time! Yes, definitely both! 

I’ve learned new rituals and tools to ready myself for each workshop, and I’ve put in multiple hours of prep for each and every one. I know it won’t always be like this, but this is where I am right now, and I have released any judgment I once had about what my intuition is telling me I need right now. Because the truth is, it’s working. I’m standing in my power and my confidence, and my audience is moved. They feel inspired to lead as WHO THEY ARE after our sessions and that is why I do the work. 

That said, all of the prep and the focus brings a certain level of intensity to my life that can be at odds with the peace I often seek. It’s finally 65 degrees and it feels like I’m still weighed down by my puffy coat, except it’s as heavy as a fur and I don’t even wear fur. As my biggest workshop to date approached for the senior most women in a financial services firm, the pressure hit a fever pitch. I found myself wishing it was over—mentally traveling to a moment in the future where it would be done, so I could remove my coat. 

The morning of the event, in my smartest emerald green dress, I stepped onto the subway nearly two hours early. A seemingly random—but not random at all—memory struck me. I was brought back to my 2014 New York City Marathon training, the culmination of which shifted the course of my life. During one of my five weekly training runs, I ran into a friend who’s completed several half and full marathons. I told her my training was going well, but I was so nervous about the race. What if I fall? What if I can’t make it? What if…? What if…? She put her hand on my sweaty shoulder and said, "You’ve already put in all of the hard work! The five months of training is the hard part. The race is your reward!" It was just what I needed to hear back in 2014 and…in that moment as I was on my way to train a room full of powerful women leaders. 

The race is your reward. 

I’ve done the prep. I know my content. I know who I am. I know why I’m here. Now, I can be present. I can enjoy every moment of my reward. I will take in the pleasure of being exactly who I am, serving just who I want to serve—contributing my part to a problem I see in the world. What else is there, really? 

By wishing it was over, and getting through it just to tell myself I did it, I almost missed the best part! Instead, I stood in front of a room full of rapt faces, opened with one of my favorite stories about my girls, and breathed in every single possibility that exploded in the 90 minutes that followed. 

Ten years ago, I was in a Digital Marketing role at a large financial services firm. After a successful career building websites and digital experiences, I had a stomach churning feeling that I was ready for my next move. I knew I wanted something different, but I had no idea what it could be. I felt stuck, disappointed and like I should have this figured out already! 

In that space of uncertainty, I decided to get involved in the many other activities available at my organization. I became active in the company’s women’s leadership development and networking group. While in the network, I connected with powerful, female leaders at all levels of the organization. A year into my work with these incredible women, I became pregnant with my first daughter, which sparked the idea to create a Workplace Flexibility event. We invited the most senior female leader in the organization at the time for a keynote speech, with a follow-up panel conversation about the organizational needs of working parents and the direction workplace flexibility was headed. I worked tirelessly to coordinate the event details and promotion on top of my day job. I was LIT UP by the process, the momentum and the excitement that grew with what seemed like a movement my colleagues and I were building. 

The day of the event I was 9 months pregnant and feeling my strongest pregnancy symptom—EMOTION. I pinned the lavaliere mic on our keynote before her talk and walked to the back of the room to take in what I along with my co-conspirators had created. A standing room only, packed audience. An energy that was hopeful and supportive and HUNGRY to know more. Our speaker started her talk with a heartfelt working parent meltdown story in which her overwhelm had caused her to forget something for her son’s class. In that moment where priorities came into the foreground, she chose to spend the extra time doing right by her family instead of attending the senior level meeting to which she was already late. 

I looked down at my growing belly, riveted by her words and taken with the intense energy of the room. I felt more alive that day than I had in many years of my digital career. Something shifted. All the clues for my next move were right in front of me, but I couldn’t see them. I was fearful for how I was going to juggle work and family in my own life. 

After my daughter was born, I started a new Digital Marketing role that was part-time and flexible. I knew it was a safe move, but also that it was the right move for me at the time, given my priority shift. I was able to work with great people, use my strengths and years of expertise AND control my schedule. My friends who were struggling to stay afloat would remind me often that I had the dream situation for a working mom. And for the most part, that was true. But there was something nagging at me throughout this time. It showed up when I mentored some of my colleagues and coached my friends through their career challenges. It was there when I presented to a room of employees and felt comfortable being myself, sharing stories to demonstrate my point. Or when I obsessively read articles about the disparity between men and women in senior leadership roles and the gender pay gap. When Anne-Marie Slaughter’s Atlantic article, "Why Women Still Can’t Have It All" appeared in July 2012, it rocked my world and was all I could talk about for days. All the clues were there, but it took time and space, supportive people and running a marathon (yep, best rut-busting tool out there!) to get me to trust the evidence and build a case for my career transition. 

When I work with clients who are seeking clarity about their next step, I say, "It’s OK not to know right now, but walk through your life with an openness to finding the clues, and when you find them, notice how they feel in your body." If you’re stuck in your head, listen to what your body is telling you with butterflies, or fireworks or flow. 

My clients create a list of past projects, programs, conversations and brief moments when they felt ignited, curious and alive. And then they open their eyes to the moments they brush off in their every day life as "silly" or "nothing." They know those moments were something and by acknowledging them and giving them space to grow—who knows if that something can turn into THE thing. 
 

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. 

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.