Clients come to me at all stages of their job search.

From the beginning as they brainstorm what’s next while they’re in roles they like.

To the post figuring-it-out moment where they’re reworking how they’ll position themselves for specific opportunities.

To the dreaded—I’ve been searching for a year. I’ve done everything. Met everyone. And I still don’t have a job.

As you can imagine, the last scenario is the most challenging. And it’s not because these folks are unemployable. Many in this category are talented, skilled and highly marketable candidates. But there’s one thing that separates them from their less experienced counterparts who are swimming in potential opportunities.

Persistent and punishing self-judgement.

The judgement has a wide spectrum of flavors:

What’s wrong with me that I was laid off after working so hard for so many years?

I’m [insert arbitrary age]! Why don’t I have this figured out by now?!

I WILL NOT let myself take a walk or have lunch with a friend until I’ve sent out 5 resumes today—even if I’m sending them to companies where I have zero contacts.

My family needs my income and I’m letting them down.

It’s never going to happen for me. Never.

When I hear these harsh words I know—sure there could be some tweaking of an elevator pitch or a resume, but that’s not what’s holding up the process. The change that MUST be made—and the one that will make all the difference—is a mindset shift.

Here’s a path to making this change:

1. It starts with awareness: noticing the judgmental moments as they arise. What are the physical symptoms you feel when you are punishing yourself?

2. Think about what you would say to a younger version of you or a child in your life who is berating his or herself in this way. Something that is compassionate, forgiving and loving. One example that I came up with for myself on a personal front recently is, "Kindness FTW."

3. Next, practice. As many times as you can muster during the first 24 hours, then a week, then ongoing, replace your negative thoughts with your compassionate words.

4. Breathe through it.

5. Notice where you have resistance. Either via free writing, talking to friends or professionals, begin to investigate where that resistance may come from and where it may have held you back in the past.

6. Keep on going with your search while looking for shifts in how you’re feeling, or new results you’re getting with this approach. What’s possible now?

While you may not get the job within the first week of making this change (though in some cases you may), one immediate result is that you will begin to feel better. Once you release the pressure, you can give yourself permission to do the things that bring you joy before (or instead of) sending resumes into the ether. You will begin to rewrite the narrative about why this has taken the amount of time it has at the age that you are. Perhaps that story includes the opportunity to make this very shift in how you show up for yourself. Once you regain control of your story, you can begin to see that this IS possible for you. It will happen. And that’s when it does.

Fifteen years ago, when my (now) husband and I sat down to plan our wedding, we agreed—the first step we needed to take was obvious.

In order to come up with the answers for what kind of wedding we wanted to have, we needed to ask the right questions.

And so, as two marketers making our union official—we wrote a creative brief. Romantic, I know.

In our brief, we asked:

• What’s our goal?

• What would make the wedding feel like a success?

• How do we want the celebration to make us feel?

• What feelings do we want to bring out in our people?

• And by the way…who are our people and who are they to us?

• What adjectives would we use to describe what we want to create?

The brief kept us on task, on-brand and in lock step as a couple throughout the planning process. When families, vendors or random people with opinions pushed too hard on their hopes and dreams for the event, we always came back to the brief. It was a reminder of our intention to build something together that was authentically us. Not just the wedding. The marriage.

We’ve come back to this approach various times in our lives. After the births of both of our daughters, we wrote briefs on how we wanted those first postpartum weeks to feel. Everyone seemed to fall in line except for the babies. Go figure.

Now, in my work with clients in career transitions, I use the creative brief for a fresh look at what they want to build in this next chapter, asking:

• What will success look like in your career, right now, in this stage of your life?

• Why are you doing this work?

• What problems in the world do you want to solve?

• Who do you want to help?

• How are you uniquely positioned to do this work?

• Who’s on your support team? Who’s not?

• How do you want to feel on a typical day in your work?

• How do you want to make others feel?

• If your work had a single message, what would it be?

• What’s the tone of how that message is delivered?

• What are your non-negotiables in your work? And your nice-to-haves?

I have come to appreciate using the career creative brief in my own work and business because as I discuss often, I like ideas. I’m prone to epiphanies. I fall in love…a lot. The brief helps me focus and gives me criteria for evaluating my ideas. It gives me a way to either connect them to what I want—or to say, "Yes, that is a clever idea, but I’m not going to be the one to bring it to life." Writing a brief is a way for you to declare—this is what you want and who you want to be in your work. And it’s a way to remind you of this unique design when you act like a human and veer off your path.

I’m the kind of woman who typically likes to kick start the year with a bang.

A big commitment.

An unthinkable goal.

A vow to turn things upside down.

That said, I don’t practice the art of resolution-making. Instead, I choose a word that will be my organizing principle for the year.

My focus, my mantra.

This year, for a multitude of reasons, my word is PEACE.

It has already influenced my approach to life as I step into the first week of this new decade.

My brain is not currently flooded with dozens of topics for new posts and pieces I want to share with you. Instead, I’ve had a few moments over the past two weeks where I sat down to write, and nothing appeared. Blank mind. Blank page. Nothing.
I did not go to a dark place. I chose to believe I truly needed a break. A refuel. Time to go out and be with the people I love. To experience life and be inspired.

I gave myself permission to simply be where I am: in a slow beginning.

To see the meticulously planned new year’s marketing barrages and authoritative voices of every other coach in my industry—and to absorb an authentic, confident message that I’m not there. I’m in a quiet place.

While most companies in our midst are egging us on to make quick and drastic changes because it’s January, I know that thoughtful, consistent and gradual shifts are what cause lasting transformation.

It’s okay if you don’t have your goals for the year mapped out yet.

First comes the thinking and the space for you. Next comes the goals that are true to where you are in this moment, and not where every “new year, new you” campaign tells you that you should be.

As I’m experiencing this year, easing in is an absolutely valid and respectable way to start. Without the pressure of exploding out of the gate, the ideas are beginning to flow again. I can see that there’s an endless supply when I listen to what I truly need. And for right now, peace is my guide to finding it.

In years past during my digital marketing career, when I attended corporate holiday parties the highlights were…

The chocolate fountains.

Colleagues dancing.

The senior leader of our group who told us all before we walked in, "Don’t eat like pigs." An unexpected, but memorable pep talk.

Spending the whole night with the three to four people who knew me best at the company. The people who truly got me.

To contrast, as I take the "so many holiday parties, so little time" approach to networking this year, there are no chocolate fountains. Thankfully, there’s no dancing AND I can eat whatever I want, as long as it’s gluten-free.

That said, the most powerful, visceral change this time is my comfort with talking to anyone and everyone—because I know who I am and what I’m contributing to the people in my life. I’m proud of what I’ve accomplished this year—so I have a lot to talk about! And those who know me even just a little know that I…ahem…like to talk.

Part of stepping into my worth and discovering my confidence in networking is also knowing that I don’t need to talk the whole time to build a connection. What a relief to re-learn that I build deeper relationships when I put "The Rachel Show" on hiatus to follow my mantra for 2019—LISTEN.

The practice of deep listening has been a focus for me this year and it has shifted the way I lead workshops, the way I show up for my clients, and who I can be for strangers. When I’m present and generous, I can help them make the connections and note the possibilities I’m seeing for them.

This mindset shift has been a game-changer for both my motivation to network (on rainy, cold evenings in venues so far from Brooklyn), and in my expectations of what will come from those events.

No matter what these connections will bring to my business or my life, I know I will learn more about people. What motivates them. What keeps them stuck. What they want from their lives. What they’re willing to release. All things that bring me energy—inspiring me to write, coach, and help people change their lives.

As you attend— parties this season, I encourage you to use these as networking opportunities to tell your authentic stories, to listen and to be present—removing all expectations that this afternoon or evening will make or break your career or your business. Have fun! Don’t judge yourself or others for unsmooth dance moves—and please, if there’s a chocolate fountain—indulge. Nobody ever regrets that decision.

As I take time to reflect on the most meaningful areas of my work in 2019, what tops my list for the third year in a row is:

My ongoing connection and conversation with you.

It truly makes my day when you write me a note to say a sentence or even a word prompted you to think a new way. When you tell me a piece was "just what you needed to read" today.

I hear you. I see you. And that's why I will continue to be there to remind you to be compassionate to yourself. To be a flawed human. To forgive and create anew.

The way I like to close out the year is with time to be thoughtful about what went well...and well, what didn't. To set goals for the coming year and to choose people in my life who will hold me accountable for those audacious goals.

As my gift to you this season, I'm sharing my - You Got This 2020 Planner (pdf).

Create time for yourself to wrap up this year with the gravitas it deserves.

I look forward to hearing your 2020 goals and being a member of the team that inspires you to achieve them!

All the holiday love,

Rachel

In mid-November, we saw the co-working giant WeWork layoff 2,400 of its 12,000 employees after the botched IPO revealed massive issues with its business model, as well as inappropriate behavior by CEO and founder.

As a coach and workshop facilitator who has supported the Women’s Employee Resource Group—The Women of We—in the past with coaching and personal leadership workshops, I could not be prouder of the resilient employees emerging from this reduction.

One by one, the "last day" posts from WeWork employees appeared in my LinkedIn feed. Woven together, they told me everything the salacious media coverage did not.

They acknowledged the good people, the good work, the good intent and the values they believed in.

They retold their stories—from their own perspectives.

They championed and supported their colleagues—both those who had left and those who remain.

They encouraged hiring managers looking for talent to hire former WeWork staff, at all levels.

These are all areas within their control in this complex and fraught situation.

As many know, one of my mantras in my work with clients is, "The person in charge of your career is you." The same goes for your personal brand.

While the company’s brand sentiment may be compromised, you are more than the company you work for—or worked for, as the case may be. You are a whole person, with a long career that will extend beyond your current role and expertise.

Having worked with mid-level and junior leaders at WeWork, I can say firsthand that there was and is an army of good people there who thought they were working toward a common goal.

These are people who forged forward despite the obstacles in their path—and that’s who you want on your team.

New York City isn’t an easy place to call home. The busyness, the cost, the time-intensive process to educate my kids, and then the moments when I’m drenched in the rain with a broken umbrella trying to catch a non-existent cab. That’s when I scream to whoever’s listening, "New York!! Why you gotta be so hard?!" And yet every time I return from a trip and that skyline comes into view—I feel alive, whole, and connected to all that I love.

I’ve heard experts talk about marriage and long-term partners as something/someone you must consciously continue to choose. I do this annually in my relationship with New York.

I do not remain here because:

I’m afraid I could not find joy anywhere else.

My kids might emancipate themselves if I mentioned moving.

I built my business and my network here.

All of those reasons stem from fear. My knowledge of my self and my capabilities counteract that fear. I know I could get my business and my family up and running in a new place if that’s what I/we wanted to do. This could happen some time in the future, but for now—I continue to consciously choose this city that I love, with a community that supports me and winters that kick my ass every year.

I’m not the only New Yorker constantly re-evaluating my decision. Nearly 75% of my career transition clients tell me on our first call, "We’re considering leaving the city." And we treat this as one of the potential paths to explore.

If this sounds like you, know that you are not stuck here AND you may be able to find some the things you’re hungry for, right in your backyard (or fire escape, as the case may be).

Here are some ways I help clients further investigate moving their careers to a new city:

1. Identify your values
Name your top 5 values and define what they mean to you. In the values that are driving your choices and decisions for right now, you will find some clues as to where your current life is out of synch with what’s important to you.

2. Name your non-negotiables
I typically ask clients to choose their five non-negotiables for their next role, but this time, I recommend doing it for your next potential hometown AND role. Do you want to go somewhere where you already have a network or is going someplace completely new one of the biggest draws?

3. Drop a few pins
Choose 2-3 places you may want to move and do your research! Vet those places out for your values and your non-negotiables. Just as there’s not one perfect role out there for you, there’s not one perfect next city. If health is one of your top values, what could that look like in all of your city options?

4. Move toward instead of running from
There’s a high likelihood that what’s prompting you to make a big change doesn’t only stem for your location. While you’re figuring out what’s next, use this moment as an opportunity to make some shifts where you are. I went through this exercise at one point when I was feeling the tug to move. I discovered I could tweak my Brooklyn life to find what I was seeking—peace. If you make these changes and you still want to move, you’ll know that you did all could to optimize where you are. You are truly drawn to this new adventure.

5. Know you can always come back
As I learned in my coach training, there are no wrong decisions. You are a resilient person capable of regrouping and redirecting if need be. No matter what happens, you will learn from this change—as will your family. Simply remembering this when you’re about to take the leap can be a huge relief and give you momentum in taking that next step.

For my Bay Area friends and family who are reading this to the end expecting to see that we’ve finally decided to make that move to Cali, sorry—it’s not happening. You guys would be the first to know! For now, I’m actively choosing NYC. But—I’m here to support my people when they’re ready to give up those moments when—the train goes express without warning—in search of new adventures.

Last week I received two emails within minutes of each other. Both were from former clients—one to announce her new exciting role after a year of project work and looking for "the one", and the second to share the news of her resignation after a few months on the job.

As I looked at them stacked, one on top of the other in my inbox—I was struck by the tone that unified them: pride.

A hard-won leadership position.

A decision to tend to mental health over a paycheck with toxic strings attached.

Both women were choosing how they wanted to view these snapshots in their career narratives. And their compassion for themselves leapt off the screen.

Beyond making me one happy coach, this realization felt like a message. It was a reminder that what can appear to be a:

Failure

Longer than normal job search

Stupid decision

Can also be seen as:

A critical lesson

Time to be thoughtful to find the right fit

The best decision with the information you had at the time

Often times when we’re stuck, it’s because we’re tough on ourselves in the retelling of the story. It’s hard to get momentum and move past that traumatic moment when we’re berating ourselves about what didn’t go well.

Now, I’m not saying to avoid the lessons about what you could do differently next time, but you do need to extend compassion to yourself, just as my clients did. Believe you did the best you could do, and your best was OK.

Stepping into momentum and ideas for what’s next in your career and your life comes after accepting where you are right now and choosing what it means to you.

There are many authentic versions of the story. Why not write the one that fuels you?