There’s a saying in the world of training, development, and education that “we teach what we need to learn.” That is so true for me. I would love to tell you that after spending most of my adult life studying and obsessing about what it takes to be my real self powerfully in this world—what I call brave—I have solved the great mystery and I’m here to give it to you in a magic pill so that we can all be brave all the time. But, alas, that’s not the case. What I’ve learned is that brave is not an all-or-nothing thing. It’s not like you have it or you don’t. Or once you get it, you’ve always got it.
Brave unfolds one situation at a time.
And brave hasn’t always come easy for me. I think that’s why I’ve been so obsessed with it. When I was a kid, it felt effortless. I spent my childhood on a ranch in northwest Montana, twirling about the pastures, singing to the cows at the top of my lungs. (I was weird, but I was fearless!) If I wanted to do something, I just did it. I didn’t think much about repercussions. I sang the solos in choir, played the big roles in school plays, won state while competing on the speech team, and interned at our local news station. I put myself out there for anything I wanted without giving it a second thought. I felt completely free to be who I was and to express myself in the world. It felt easy to be me.
But when I went to college to study theater, things changed. I seemed to misplace my brave. It didn’t feel safe to be vulnerable in class. It didn’t feel safe to question and explore and try new things. It didn’t feel safe to be me. What used to come with ease and grace became tight and unreliable. I stopped trusting myself.
I remember the visceral pain of auditioning: feeling small and alone as I stood on the empty stage waiting to be judged, like livestock at an auction. I would feel my throat tighten and then my jaws. My mind would swim as I fought to remember my audition piece. Nausea and an urge to pee would sweep over me like a tide. I couldn’t breathe. It was so hot in there! The worse I felt, the more convinced I was that I couldn’t perform. I’d push through, overcompensating for my body in revolt. With my hands shaking and my stomach in knots, I’d watch the director out of the corner of my eye as he scribbled my fate on the back of my headshot.
It was horrible! And I was horrified by myself! What was going on? What had happened to the passionate, powerful, fearless girl I had always been?
Yet when I managed to get cast in spite of myself, everything changed. When I would step on the stage and connect to the other actors in a scene, all my tension and fears and negative self-talk would melt away. On that stage, I could play full-out and stop censoring myself. I would experience this absolute freedom to simply be. The more I was able to let go and stop pushing and stop trying to impress and stop trying to prove myself to my director, to the audience, and to my classmates, the better my performance. I couldn’t figure out what I was doing or why it worked, but when it did, it was magical.
It didn’t escape me that my only safe place for self-expression was hidden behind a character in a play. The minute I would step off stage and drop the cloak of whatever role I was playing and be left exposed—just me—the old sensations would come rushing back. I would sit waiting for my director’s feedback, my jaws tense and my stomach tight, holding my breath as I staked my self-worth on the words about to come out of his mouth.
During those years, I lost that sense of efficacy and joy that came from simply being and expressing myself in the world, and I think I’ve spent most of my adulthood trying to recapture that sense of freedom. I’ve been fighting to reclaim myself. What I’ve learned along the way, by working with thousands of leaders and emerging leaders from every different industry imaginable, with different backgrounds and experience levels, is that I’m not the only one who is fighting this fight.
We’re all fighting to be ourselves powerfully in this world—to be brave.
As I got older, I became a bit obsessed with the question “What does it take to be brave enough to be myself powerfully?” I wanted to get my mojo back (what used to come so easily felt like an impossible feat) and I wanted to make something of my life and knew that I was the one stopping myself.
As a kid, I was bold and fearless: I totally put myself out there. Maybe it was because I didn’t know any better. So the question is, how do we, as adults, when we know that the world can be a tough and scary place— when we know that there is risk for people not liking you, disagreeing with you, or judging you and that failure is commonplace—how do we step out into the world and be who we are for real, powerfully, anyway? How do we cut through the emotional, psychological, and physiological sensations that prevent us from doing our best? This is what I was committed to figuring out.
I developed a voracious hunger and curiosity to understand. For two decades, I’ve read everything I could get my hands on about authenticity, purpose, confidence, self-esteem, business, leadership, communication, influence, presence, and purpose. After leaving the theater and following a circuitous path, I found myself propelled into the world of training and development, and the participants in those sessions became my education. I’d secretly study the hundreds of Fortune 500 employees who’d show up in my classroom. And when I’d step into their shoes and try to see through their eyes, I got it.
I recognized the pain that comes from trying to be who you think you should be, instead of knowing and being who you are.
I could feel the tension that had built up from years of internalizing the immense amount of change, overload, stress, anxiety, and ambiguity. I could see it manifest in their bodies and in the way they communicated with each other.
Through the course of the day, I’d watch them protect and defend and deflect, until they felt safe enough to say what was real.
And in their efforts to prove themselves—to each other, to their bosses if they were in the room, and maybe, more than anything, to themselves—I could see my own reflection. As it turns out, the theater world and business world aren’t so far apart after all.
As I made these observations, I noticed I was changing. When I’d get swept up in my sincere desire to listen between the lines and understand what they were thinking and feeling and truly connect with them, I started to have a lot more fun. I stopped being stressed about what they thought about me. Instead, I worked to draw them in, probing to dig deeper, challenging them, and holding up the mirror so they could see themselves as I saw them. The days flew by! And even though I was exhausted when it was over, in the moment, it felt effortless. I suspect this is what professor of psychology and management Mihaly Csikszentmihalyi calls flow.1
The crazy thing was that the more effortless it felt to me and the more I was able to be myself and focus on them, the more the participants would transform. I’d see light bulbs go off all over the place. The groups became energized and the rooms would fill with laughter as real change took place right before my eyes.
It was magical.
And I recognized that feeling. It was the same feeling I got when I was on stage and truly connecting with the other actors in a scene. And I wondered, if I could do this on stage and in the classroom, how could I do it in life? Eventually, it hit me. I had had the tools all along and I couldn’t even see them.
It is these simple but powerful tools that I share with you today. While this content originated in the acting world, it is just as relevant outside the theater. These tools are a powerful mechanism to help us—myself included—get out of our own way so we can bring our true selves, more powerfully, to whatever situation we’re facing. They help with leadership, influence, presence, and presenting. They help us understand the needs of our employees and our customers, and they help when the stakes are high. These tools make it possible to be mindful and purposeful in the face of vulnerability, stress, ambiguity, change, and all of life’s challenges, for greater results.
They help us be brave.
While we think that we need to fit into some kind of mold or follow some kind of prescription to get results, the most amazing leaders on the planet are those who dare to be their real selves, constructively and powerfully. There are no formulas for true greatness. No credential, title, or alma mater can guarantee a fulfilling and successful life. It’s something we must extract from our deepest self every day.
I’m hoping this book will be something different—more personal than your traditional business book—because authentic leadership is a personal journey. Giving you formulas and expounding academic jargon isn’t going to get you any closer to the heart of this conversation. Together, we’ve got to risk getting real.
Hopefully, this book will give you a new perspective, a chance to explore, tools to help you be brave when you don’t feel brave, and an opportunity to see yourself, the world, and the impact you can have with new eyes.
Consider this book to be something that none of us need and yet we all weirdly want—permission. Permission to be you—your most confident, authentic, and powerful self.
For real.