Deb Gilg is a brilliant lawyer who has served as a U.S. Attorney. The first time I met her, she was speaking to a group of professional women. I sat in the audience, brimming with excitement to hear her story. She was a powerful force, full of confidence, and yet she exuded compelling warmth and beauty. I had read her bio beforehand and knew that her honors, successes, and career were impressive. She was a high achiever. I was eager to hear how she had done it all. What was her secret? What could I learn from her?
From her first words, the entire room fell silent. The first sentence out of her mouth was shocking. She calmly described an abusive childhood. She repeated with ease the things her alcoholic father had told her over and over: “You’re not smart.” “You’re not pretty.” “You will never amount to anything.”
But then she said something I will never forget. “But my grandfather would whisper the opposite things to me. He would say, ‘You’re smart.’ Or, ‘You’d better get a good grade on your math test because you are going to be something someday.’ And for some reason, it was his voice that carried me.”
Tears welled in my eyes. I sat there stunned. She went on to talk about her work, her career, and all she had accomplished. But I couldn’t get past one thing: the words she chose to listen to allowed her to be brave enough to be her real self. What made her choose to listen to her grandfather’s voice and not her father’s? What made her decide she was worthy, she was smart, and she was more than the sum of her father’s criticism? What caused her to tune out the voices of despair and negativity and listen to the steady voice that whispered, “You can”?
I thought about Deb’s decision to listen to the positive voice. I thought about the times I had allowed negative voices and criticism to drown out the positive voices. I considered how words spoken to me by naysayers undercut me to my core. I have replayed those voices in my head over and over, like a favorite song. I have let the beliefs of others, and their esteem of me, change my course. I have allowed the words of others to become part of my own internal voice.
It took me nearly forty years to recognize the need to remove from my internal dialogue the negative voices and untruths others said about me or to me. I had to make a conscious effort to identify what I believed about myself based on what others told me. Here’s the thing about criticism and harshness: even if I knew they weren’t “all” true, a wee bit of maybe was tucked in them, casting doubt into my confidence and ability to trust myself.
We take these untruths off the rack and hold them up against us as we peer into the mirror as if shopping for a new outfit and wondering if this will fit or how we’ll look in it. Will this one work? Hmmm, maybe. We invite these negative thoughts in, welcoming them to stay for a while as we treat them to snacks and pour them a fresh cup of coffee.
Throughout my twenties and thirties, I made decisions based on what others told me I was or wasn’t good at. Even though I was still discovering my strengths and weaknesses, I often believed what others told me about myself, even if they didn’t have my best interests in mind. I hushed the voice that said, “You can,” or “You just haven’t figured that out yet.” Instead of speaking up, instead of following my dreams, I tried to overachieve in the areas I knew I was good at. There were times my fear paralyzed me. It stopped me from cultivating a life of richness and fullness because I was too afraid to try new things. If I didn’t think I would be great at something, if I thought I was weak in an area, I wouldn’t pursue it. I ignored areas of weakness that would have benefited from me working on them, and instead, overachieved in areas of my strengths.
Oftentimes we come to a fork in the road. It may be an opportunity we are offered, or when we want to assert our self-confidence and say, “No, I am not taking that path anymore. I am going this way.” We feel a bolt of confidence, a shot of authenticity welling up inside of us. We choose to listen to the right voice, the one that says “You can—you just haven’t yet.” We adopt a growth mind-set and believe any backlash we may face will be worth it. We stand stronger and speak the words we hear in our heads. We take the path less traveled by women, the one full of weeds and thick undergrowth. The one that is harder but quieter. The path of brave. The path of us.
When we are brave enough to live authentically, we are brave enough to accept our value. We begin to live as if we, our lives, our opinions, and our unique gifts, matter. Something critical inside of us changes. An internal shift occurs. We may not be able to pinpoint it to one moment or a single interaction; rather, it is a gradual alteration of our selves. Then one day we look behind us and note that we are far past the tipping point, and we are becoming. We like who God created us to be a little more. We appreciate our strengths, and we show ourselves grace for our weaknesses.
Each day we live in a space of increasing grit and grace. We stand straighter and speak with authority because we are empowered. Instead of apologizing, we say thank you. Instead of shrinking and hiding, we show up. Instead of allowing fear to stop us, we step forward, wrapping our fear in courage. Instead of living in others’ expectations, we claim our own boundaries. Instead of convincing ourselves we aren’t good enough, we celebrate who we are now.
I want to stress a realization that came to me as I accepted that I could be gritty and show grace. These two attributes, which for so long I separated in my mind as arch enemies or rivals, were indeed a pairing of a successful life. It changed my future, and I hope it will change yours.
We women grow up associating confidence and the ability to give orders as masculine. We are taught that being a woman equals being obedient, raising our hands, and asking permission. We are hesitant to defend our own boundaries and set our own agendas as we don’t want to offend people, especially those we love and respect. We are communal, collaborators, and connectors. The majority of us want to help others, and we love seeing other people succeed. Add these together and it’s a recipe for overcommitted, undervalued, and completely exhausted women. As discussed earlier, it is ingrained in us as children: women are givers. And we give and give and give… until we fall apart.
If you want to be the best version of you, you have to spend time on the inside. You must evaluate your boundaries, review your priorities, and ask yourself some tough questions. You can do all of these things, but if you don’t believe you are empowered to make necessary changes, you will continue to burn for others until there is nothing left of you.
How do we become empowered? How do we believe we can make the changes necessary to live authentically, to set boundaries, to embrace being gritty and showing grace? Is there a class we can take? A program we can sign up for? Earn a certificate maybe?
Maybe the trick is losing ten pounds. Maybe we will be more empowered if we get Botox. Maybe one day we will unlock our inner Superwoman, and suddenly everyone will respect our boundaries and accept us for who we are. If only we could look younger, run a faster mile, or read 100 self-help books. We just need to get rid of our laugh lines or get some lowlights. Or maybe we need to start our days with a kale smoothie and eat more plants! That’s it! We will arrive, and all will obey our commands. We will never be uncomfortable or face backlash being our true selves if we start our day with spinach.
Lord, have mercy and send help to Your people.
Here is what I have learned and know to be true: living authentically is determined by a choice only you can make. You will live authentically only when you believe you are empowered because you are a human. Not because you are a woman, not because you are a man, not because you are a mother or a wife or a doctor or a lawyer or anything else. You will believe this when you believe you were created empowered—because you are loved.
You will set boundaries and live authentically—speaking up, standing straighter, leading, living—because you are loved and you are enough. Your worth is in the fact that you are here. You were created by One who knit you together—perfectly imperfect, a beautiful tapestry of both masculine and feminine traits of grit and grace. I do not believe success breeds authenticity. I believe authenticity breeds success.
I do not believe being empowered has anything to do with actually being in power. I believe that when we are brave enough to live empowered, we claim authority over ourselves, independent of our positions in our careers. It is not about being in control over others; it is about being empowered to set our lives’ boundaries that represent our lives’ priorities. It is showing up in our workplaces, our relationships, and our struggles and saying, “This is me. I am strong, I am gritty. I am imperfect, and I can show grace. I am empowered because I am loved. I am loved because I was created uniquely and sufficiently.”
I used to begin difficult conversations with “I am sorry.” Those three words started each and every conversation in which I had to disappoint someone who had either asked me to do a task or assumed I would. When I had to tell someone that I was choosing no longer to work for free or to continue a task that was someone else’s responsibility, I apologized profusely. “I am sorry I can’t do this task for free anymore,” or “I am sorry but I don’t have time for this job that really isn’t my responsibility.” I winced as I apologized. What I was really saying was, “I am sorry for setting boundaries and respecting myself. I am sorry for demanding compensation for my work and thus for all women’s work. I am sorry for protecting my sanity and well-being.”
Over time, after I burned out and spent time in the pit, I recognized that I was empowered. I realized that as CEO of my own time, my power was sitting on a shelf waiting for me to grasp it. My ability to live empowered was not a magic pill hidden in size eight jeans or in a cucumber smoothie. And guess what happened? I stopped apologizing.
I flipped the switch. I took the power off the shelf and started using it. Now I start off crucial or difficult conversations in which I am going to say, “No, thank you,” from a position of power. My own power. You see, when you start a conversation with “I am sorry,” you start from a place of beneath. Starting with an apology places the context of your following words in the realm of “I messed up” and “I let you down” and “I am not doing what I am supposed to do.” It is a losing position, and you do not belong there. You are not a loser.
Empowered to live your own authenticity, you start off conversations with a thank-you. You replace apologies with gratitude. Speaking from a place of empowerment, you are thankful for the opportunity, not sorry you can’t commit. You are thankful you were asked and thankful you were considered, not sorry. You are demonstrating to others where your boundaries are. As you do this, you are educating them. You don’t shrink and become smaller with apologies; rather, you educate by saying, “Thank you, but this isn’t best for me.”
Do you see how the conversation will proceed differently? When we believe we are worthy and that we are enough, we speak from a place of empowerment. Just because something conveniences someone else doesn’t mean we must say yes.
The very opposite is also true. When we rise to the place in our lives when we know we must do that thing—asking for the compensation we deserve, negotiating a different time split, or requesting the position or promotion we want may be an uncomfortable conversation—it will bring feelings of unease to both ourselves and others. It may inconvenience someone else to say yes to us.
Most of the time, when we say no to someone else, we are, in turn, saying yes to the very thing we want for our own lives, and it is unfamiliar, even difficult. Getting comfortable being uncomfortable is required if we want to live authentically. If we want to exert courage, set boundaries, and live empowered, we won’t win Miss Congeniality contests. Living empowered means having routine conversations with people who will try to enforce their wills on us. We will have to say (sometimes over and over), “No, and thank you.”
We will likely need to have these conversations with people we love and respect. It is easy to say no, thank you to people we wish we could vote off the island. It is much harder to say, “This is who I am, and what you are asking me to do isn’t a part of me,” to people we love or those whose love we want.
Let that sink in for a minute. It’s important because it is one of the critical steps to being comfortable with the uncomfortable, one of the hallmarks of living authentically. When you have internal conflict because you are speaking from a place of empowerment, ask yourself why. Is it because you don’t believe you are empowered, or is it because you simply want to be liked?
When we come into a crucial conversation from a place of ego, wanting to receive lots of “atta girls” and flattery, approval, or warm fuzzies, we are feeding our internal need for attention and admiration. It is easy to cover this under a blanket of “wanting to help others,” but we sensationalize being a martyr, which feeds our egos. We fail to protect our well-being, authenticity, and what we know we are called to do because it feels better to be liked than it does to be respected.
I promise you, dear sister, it is much better to be respected than it is to be liked. Being liked may seem easier, but in the long run, it is draining, exhausting, and equivalent to searching for the holy grail of interpersonal satisfaction. The more you try to please everyone, the more you will find it impossible. In the end, you will wear so many masks you don’t remember your natural hair color. Was it brown with hints of red? Honey blonde? Jet black? We don’t know. Better start over.
When you live empowered and grant yourself the autonomy of living authentically, you set healthy boundaries. You show up to work on your terms. You know your passion, your goals, and what you simply won’t or don’t do anymore. You know what brings you joy and what brings you down. You disengage from people and places that drain you. People in your life will take notice. They will respect you and the boundaries you set. It’s like you’ve hung a shingle on your life that says EMPOWERED and the hours you’re open for business.
It does not mean you won’t continue to struggle with finding your internal positive voice. It doesn’t mean you won’t ever doubt yourself or your purpose in life. It does mean that when you are in those dark periods or when you feel alone and completely blind, you will cling to the hope you know to be true.
I couldn’t write a chapter about living brave without telling you about a very dark period in my life when I learned how to be brave enough. Not brave but brave enough. Just enough brave to get through the day… and the next. It was a time when each morning I lay in bed at 4:30 AM and thought, Where will I get the courage to get through this day? I don’t have any brave left. Please God, can I borrow some of Yours?
It was a hard time in my life mostly because I had to be quiet. I had to hold all of my fears inside, feelings of complete despair, anxiety, and self-doubt. As an extrovert, I want to tell the world my feelings, both joyful and sorrowful. I like to talk through difficult scenarios with my close friends and ask them to weigh in. It’s in my DNA to send out a survey to my tribe and ask “What would you do?” I am constantly seeking input from others and listening to others’ opinions on my life. It’s therapeutic for me to hear from my people.
It’s very, very difficult for me to stay silent, especially during times of hardship. But I can tell you, I learned how to be just enough brave… when I remained silent. When I went inward and kept my thoughts and feelings known to God and my husband alone.
Have you ever experienced a time when you felt completely alone? You were so isolated and your thoughts and worries were so secluded that you felt as if any moment you would disappear. “What happened to her?” “We didn’t even know she was struggling,” you imagine people saying as you drift away. I have been there. I have faced a giant. I have felt like David, with Goliath roaring “DAVID,” and the earth disappearing, leaving me completely alone, with no breath in me.
I know what it is like to be afraid of my own authenticity. To go through the motions of your day, wondering when you will be flat on your back with Goliath’s foot looming over your chest, ready to squash you. I know what it is like not to be able to trust those around you because if you told them how you really are, they wouldn’t stick around. In fact, you know some of them would leave because some of them have already left.
I know what it is like to feel beaten down, criticized, judged, and yet have to stay silent, straighten my back, square my shoulders, and reapply my lipstick. It is in these times when we learn that standing in the face of giants is often enough. We don’t need to speak. We don’t need to go on the forward assault. We don’t need to draw our swords and take an offensive stance. Simply standing is enough. It is just enough brave for the day. It is brave enough.
It is said that character is who you are when no one is looking. I would say that authenticity is who you are when you are standing completely alone, facing whatever giant is in your face.
For over a year of my life, I didn’t feel brave. In fact, I felt quite the opposite. I felt exceptionally alone, misunderstood, ridiculed, and lost. I clung to my husband and kids, as well as a few friends I could count on one hand. They kept telling me the same thing: “Hold on, Sasha. Remain, Sasha. Stand, Sasha.”
Sometimes standing didn’t feel like enough. I felt I should do more, fight back somehow, even though I had no fight left in me. It wasn’t pretty. It wasn’t as if I were a superhero in a cape and pink heels. I wasn’t running across a war zone, exterminating the enemy with my superweapon and leaving a trail of conquered evil in the wake of my power. I didn’t have a bright and shiny sword to slay dragons. I could barely stand.
There were days when I hid. Behind yoga pants, lattes, green scrubs, and surgical masks. I hunkered down in my job, smiled, and took care of patients as I knew how. I went to soccer games and dance competitions and smiled and nodded at others while crying myself to sleep at night and waking up at 3:00 AM with immense anxiety, only to repeat the cycle the next day and the next one after that. I wasn’t thriving; I was hiding. But I was surviving.
But one thing was true through it all: I kept standing. And I stayed silent. I didn’t hash out my struggle in the court of public opinion, and I didn’t share on every social media platform what I was going through. I couldn’t for my own sanity and growth. I needed to grow, and that growth required obedience.
I remained standing. And slowly, Goliath retreated. In fact, I am compelled to write about it so I don’t forget how tired, sad, and weak I felt—along with all the other horrible feelings I experienced in that period of my life. I never want to forget it because there is power in remembering what we’ve overcome.
I want to remember the immense relief I felt when I was strong enough to take just one step forward. I want to remember the moment I felt the sun on my face again as I looked up and realized that what I thought was a giant cloud obscuring the sun was really a massive force. A force bigger and stronger than any Goliath. The force who had been blocking arrows, flames, and hellfire to protect me. I want to remember how when the battle was over, the force moved back, and the sun shone on my face, and all became clear. He looked at me and said, “Well done, Sash. I got you. See what you withstood? Wasn’t it worth it? Now you know what you can stand against. Shine girl, shine. Authentically, as Sasha.”
It is not lost on me that if I hadn’t gone through that experience without leaning on anyone else for support, I wouldn’t know what I can stand up against alone. I would not have realized that God is with me always, standing in front of me and taking the brunt of the battle. I wouldn’t have known that hope remains—always remains. It is our safety net during the storms. And guess what? The more authentically we live, the more hope we have. Why? Because we trust that we were meant for more than someone else’s agenda for us. We were meant to live brave enough.
I learned many things in that period of storms. I learned who I am… and who I am supposed to be. I learned that pleasing people leads to a constant feeling of disappointment, emptiness, and failing. I learned that I must be true to myself, the unique person God made me to be, and trust that He will cover me in the storm.
“It is no bad thing
To be lost in a fog or at sea.
When land comes into view again,
You will appreciate it with a keenness
That is denied
To those who know nothing but
The safety of the shore.”
—Sister Monica Joan, Call the Midwife
Through the darkest periods of my life, I learned that I am allowed to make mistakes, that, as a woman, I am allowed to try and to fail. Others’ perceptions of who I am and the limitations they put on me is not my problem to solve. Just because following my passion or setting boundaries may make someone uncomfortable does not mean I shouldn’t move forward and do those exact things. I need to listen to the wisdom of those who have my best interest in mind, to stand with open hands, and receive wisdom from wise counsel.
I learned who I am when the storms hit. When life gets hard, I need both grit and grace. I need to be able to rise up and stand. I also need to forgive myself, and in the process forgive others as well.
I speak up. I am bold and decisive and a real pain in the butt to some people. I call out bias when I see it, and I am constantly asking those around me Why?… which I am sure makes some people want to throat punch me. When someone tells me no, I keep asking. If I keep hearing no, I ask a different person until I hear a yes. If I can’t find a solution to my problem or find a path to what I need in the current system, I build my own way.
I am persistent. I am relentless at times, and I know that this aspect of who I am drives some people crazy. It makes some people uncomfortable, and while that is never my intent, it is true.
Here’s the thing: I am a confident person. Not because I am an uber-successful human and have it all figured out or because I am smarter than the rest of the population. I assure you, I am not. I am confident in who I am because I know I am loved. I have a purpose, and I am determined to make sure that my time on this earth fulfills that purpose. I wrote this book because I know with zero doubt that you also have a purpose.
You have a purpose only you can fulfill, with a special mixture of talents and knowledge and expertise only you possess. When you recognize you have a purpose, that alone empowers you. It allows you to live out that purpose, which requires authenticity and courage. The more empowered you live, the more authentic you are, the more you become a strong force of change that sends waves of hope to all around you.
It is not to say that I don’t struggle with the external voices, the pressure, and the plans others try to place on me. It means that in the pit, in the storm, I learned my mission. That mission involves being an example for other women of how to live authentically and bravely. It is scary, mostly because on any given day you will find me driving with a week-old, half-consumed cup of protein shake in my car, and I likely don’t remember the last time I washed my hair. It is scary because I fail, a lot, and require a constant source of grit and grace. It is scary because while I don’t have the next thing figured out yet, I felt compelled to write a book with the message: Live with passion as only you can do.
It is scary because I am a human who makes mistakes and has had incredible wins and serious losses all in the same year. It is scary because I hope to God these words show you how to live authentically, which means I must keep showing up and doing that very thing myself.
Perhaps you’ve been living in the shadow of someone else, using their voice instead of your own for some time. Perhaps you’ve been letting the plans others have for you shape your future, while you take in all the reasons why you must be as they want you to be.
You picked up this book for a reason, and you found yourself on the pages. Something in you is whispering, “You are more.” Something in you is urging you to “Say yes because you are enough. Have the talk. Set the boundaries. Reach out. Ask for help. It is time. Wear the power suit. Put on the lipstick. Speak up at the meeting. Share your ideas. Forgive yourself. Grab the power off the shelf. Tell them no. Make that friend. Take that leap. You got this. You are enough just as you are.”
The choice to listen to that voice over all the negative ones that regularly shout at us requires change. And it’s a painful and strenuous change, the internal kind that forces us to choose the harder road. But that’s the entire point of this book: to invite you into the world of grit and grace. To give you permission to be both gritty and graceful. To tell you that you have every right to take the power as a woman because that is what authenticity requires. You are permitted to be strong and kind, fierce and faithful, boss-lady and loyal sister all at the same time. You can be your own CEO and give yourself the grace to fail. You can take charge and extend kindness at the same time because that is what we do as women. We lead, uniquely, fiercely, and in a new normal—with grit and grace.
Finally, sister, I want to tell you that no amount of money, power, or position can ever satisfy you if you are not living your calling and being who you were meant to be. Listen to that one true voice in your life. If you turn off all the others, you will hear it loud and clear.
When you do, you will be brave enough.