As the oldest of five children, I have always been the one taking care of others. I am comfortable being in charge, knowing what to do next, and having the answers. Somewhere along the way, I adopted perfectionism as part of my identity and came to believe that my value was tied to what I contributed and accomplished.
Lately, however, I have found myself in unfamiliar territory.
I feel vulnerable. My body feels out of my control. The future feels uncertain.
As someone who has been healthy for most of my life, dealing with medical issues that lack clear answers and seem to have no predictable endpoint has been deeply unsettling. My world has shifted from dinners out, tennis, theatre, and museum visits to doctor appointments, sleepless nights, daily walks, and trying to manage the emotional exhaustion that comes with uncertainty.
What I realize now is how much my identity was tied to being someone who just kept going and performing, regardless of how I felt.
I saw myself as a strong, competent coach and business owner who was never sick and always fulfilled her responsibilities. Now I find myself canceling appointments, rescheduling commitments, and taking time away from work to focus on my health.
At times, I have looked in the mirror and asked myself, "Who am I if I cannot be the person I've always been?"
But here is the surprising part.
These health challenges have also led me to become more in tune with my feelings and, in turn, more vulnerable with the people I love and trust. Research shows that putting feelings into words helps calm the mind. By sharing more of what I was experiencing, my friends, family, and clients have been more supportive than I could have imagined.
People have brought food, stopped by with tea and a smile, sent texts, made phone calls, checked in, and offered encouragement. My clients have been gracious in dealing with my rescheduling of appointments and completely supportive of me taking care of my health. Their kindness has been a gift.
This experience is leading me to believe that my identity needs updating.
I no longer want to be only the fixer, helper, doer, or person in charge. I want to expand my identity to include being more in touch with my feelings, more willing to share them with others, and more open to asking for and receiving support.
Professionally, I have spent years helping others open up. Personally, I have been much more guarded.
Interestingly, one of my favorite business books this year has been Revealing: The Hidden Power of Sharing What Matters Most by Leslie John. The subtitle resonated with me because I have always been more of an undersharer. In truth, I often viewed oversharing as a weakness.
According to John, a professor at Harvard Business School, most of us spend far more time thinking about the risks of revealing than the risks of concealing. We focus on what could go wrong if we share while rarely considering what might be lost if we stay silent.
Once I started opening up to friends, colleagues, and clients, I realized I had been looking at things all wrong.
The help I needed began arriving only after I shared what I was experiencing.
Opening up led to referrals to specialists, practical advice, emotional support, and ultimately the permission I needed to take time off and focus on healing. The journey has been long. After two months, I still do not have all the answers. But for the first time in a while, I feel like I am moving in the right direction.
What I have discovered is that revealing is often the wiser choice.
I received recommendations for doctors faster than I could have found on my own. I developed a stronger support network. Most surprising of all, I learned how much people genuinely care.
Vulnerability has brought me closer to myself and others.
The challenge, of course, was that I had to go first. I had to tell people what was really happening. I had to take the risk.
And what I am learning is that the risk is often worth it. As a result, I feel more connected to many people I have known and cared about for over twenty years.
The more honestly I shared how I was feeling, the calmer I became and the more connected I felt to the people around me. John has also found that leaders who admit mistakes, acknowledge challenges, and ask for feedback come across as more authentic and inspiring, making others more likely to follow them.
I found out how true this is as I was looking through my box of compliments from clients that I have kept through the years. I found one from a former business colleague who heard me give a speech during a period when I had lost both of my parents within six-months. She thanked me for sharing my difficulties and yes tears. She said it reinforced what a strong leader I am because I was willing to be vulnerable and they felt I was very inspiring and a great role model.
So that is my parting gift to you.
If there is something you are carrying alone, perhaps consider opening up just a little more. Not all at once. Just enough to let someone in.
It is through openness that we grow, learn, and expand our understanding of ourselves and our well-being.
Ironically, this experience is also making me a better coach. I find myself doing less fixing and more listening. Less advising and more creating the kind of safe space where people can tell the truth about their lives.
Because growth rarely happens in the polished stories we tell the world.
Growth happens in the softer places. In the experiences we keep hidden. In the fears we are reluctant to name. And in the courage, it takes to let ourselves be seen.
As someone who has called herself a perfectionist in recovery, it feels as though I am less worried about being seen as imperfect and more comfortable revealing what is really going on with me. That means I have more energy for actually living rather than trying to uphold some ridiculous perfectionist standard.
Thank you for allowing me to share this journey with you.
I do not know exactly what comes next. What I do know is that healing, growth, and new beginnings often start with letting go of the roles and expectations that no longer serve us.
For now, goodbye. And thank you for being part of the journey.