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Reader, I recorded a podcast episode this week with handwritten notes and a nervous stomach. [Click here for the links to listen to episode 139] And right before I hit record, I turned the camera on, looked at myself, and thought, "Ooh girl, you ain't put no makeup on. Go put some concealer on." Some people would have just recorded. See me in the raw, take it or leave it. That's not me. I got up, put a little something on, made sure my skin looked how I wanted it to look, and then sat back down. It's a small thing. But it's a metaphor for how I've done almost everything in my life. I rewind. I set myself up to look better. I don't want to be seen trying. I don't want to be seen making a mistake. I want you to see me when it's done — polished, accomplished, finished. And I've been doing this so long that I didn't notice how much it was costing me. I've felt this before, but it looked different then. Years ago I was standing in an elevator at my corporate job with my boss and my skip leader, and someone got on, recognized me, and said, "Oh my gosh, are you speaking here today? What is Manifest Yourself doing in the building?" Folks who didn't know my real name just called me Manifest Yourself. And for the first time, I felt shame — not because I had a life outside of work, but because I was in a position where I had to play smaller. As my profile grew outside my nine-to-five, I kept placating. Kept shrinking to fit. But here's what stopped me cold: I'm an entrepreneur now. I created this space. So why do I still feel small? About a month ago I wrote it out in my journal. Every goal, every feeling, every experience I want, every person — I put it all on the page. And then I drew a box in the center and wrote one word inside it. Me. I built the box. Perfectionism, people-pleasing, fear of judgment — that's the cell, and I constructed it myself. Me pretending to be perfect, hiding the parts I'm still working on, isn't helping anybody. Not me, and not you. It just means nobody knows what I'm actually going through, which means nobody can help. But if I'm the problem, then I'm also the solution. And there's no time like the present. So I'm doing something about it. I started a Substack called Fear Means Go, and three posts went live this morning — one about how I'm the problem, one about my mom and how I'm processing grief, and one about physical goals and ailments I've been quietly dealing with for years. It's free. It's not monetized. I don't have a posting schedule or a plan to show you, because I'm working the plan out in real time. It's just a place where I can be seen trying. If you want to watch me figure it out in public, come find me over there: https://substack.com/@kimberlybonline Until next time, |
Welcome to my Insider Notes where I'm sharing weekly career and leadership insights and the most up to date information on the Your Next Move Podcast and Brown Leadership™.
Reader, Let me guess: you've sat through at least one virtual presentation where the speaker was framed like they were in witness protection. Camera pointing up their nose. Terrible lighting. Background that looked like a crime scene. You could barely see their face, let alone connect with what they were saying. And here's what kills me: that speaker probably had brilliant content. They might have spent hours preparing. But because they treated the technical setup as an afterthought, their...
Reader, I need to tell you something that might surprise you. When I first started developing my public speaking skills over a decade ago, I thought the benefit would be simple: I'd be less nervous when presenting. Maybe I'd sound more confident in meetings. That's it. That was the extent of my expectations. But what actually happened? The ripple effects went so far beyond what I imagined. I'm talking about: Getting pulled aside by a provost who said "you sound like a leader" when I wasn't...
Reader, Have you ever watched another speaker and thought, "I need to be more like THEM"? Maybe they were hilarious and you thought, "I'm not funny enough."Or they had this massive transformation story and you thought, "My story isn't dramatic enough."Or they were polished and perfect and you thought, "I'll never be that smooth." Here's what I've learned after 15+ years of speaking: The most powerful speakers aren't the ones trying to be everything. They're the ones who know exactly what type...