Episode 76: It's Harder Than You Think. Be Kind.
I had performed the National Anthem at baseball games a few times that summer as a duet with my close friend, and as a trio with that friend and my sister. Each time we performed together we heard rave reviews. As we walked away from home plate toward the fence and the bleachers, our home team would come up out of the dugout to high five us.
Sometimes It Takes Cruelty to Awaken Us
I had performed the National Anthem at baseball games a few times that summer as a duet with my close friend, and as a trio with that friend and my sister. Each time we performed together we heard rave reviews. As we walked away from home plate toward the fence and the bleachers, our home team would come up out of the dugout to high five us.
When I was asked to perform the anthem by myself in mid-summer, I decided to challenge myself and go for it, even though it was scary to me. I practiced and practiced in the shower, in the car, and as I made dinner. I had been a professional vocalist for a couple of years, getting paid to perform in a few bands at small to medium sized venues, so I didn’t think it would be too different from those experiences.
Sure I was nervous, but not too nervous. After all, I was a professional musician!
Heading to home plate…
That afternoon a wildfire had kicked up just north and west of our town, and the smoke was beginning to filter into the city and the valley east of the fire. By 6:45pm, when I arrived at the ballpark to sing at 7, with the first pitch scheduled for 7:05, the sky was an odd gray and yellowish color. I totally underestimated what that might do to my voice.
I walked confidently - all by myself - to home plate, as I had done with my friend and my sister a few times before, and adjusted the microphone to my mouth. I could feel my knees shaking, but took a few deep breaths to calm my nerves.
The last time I had performed the anthem with my friend at that ballpark, we had agreed that there wasn’t a huge hurry to begin. She said: “We start when we’re ready.” And we did. We took just a moment to look at each other, breathe deeply, and establish our starting note.
I did the same thing that evening, taking a moment to breathe and prepare myself.
…And the rocket's red glare
The bombs bursting in air
Gave proof through the night
That our flag was still there
Oh say does that Star Spangled banner yet wave?
As I lifted my head, pressed up slightly onto my toes to hit that high note:
O’er the land of the free (this is the high note)
And the home of the brave
my voice faltered and cracked. The smoke had done its damage. I hit the note, yes, but not well.
And the home of the brave.
I nailed that ending, but no one heard that part. They were still focused on that damaged note - free.
Walking back past the dugout, not a single ball player came out to high five me. Not a single one.
I made my way through the gate toward the bleachers and my son, who was 8 at the time, said:
Mom, I thought you were great.
Thanks, Max, but I know that high note didn’t quite work.
He looked down, scuffed the toe of his shoe against the ground, and said:
Yeah. I know.
He looked sheepishly up toward some women in the bleachers:
I heard them laugh and say stuff.
My face flushed. I was embarrassed for myself, but angry for him.
What did you think of that?
It made me angry. I know it’s hard to sing that song.
I answered:
That’s right, Max. And if you hear something like that again, no matter who is performing, I would encourage you to say something like: “That’s rude. Could you do that? Could you sing the National Anthem all by yourself into a microphone on home plate to a stadium full of people?”
He smiled and told me he would do that next time.
The ballpark manager came up to me a moment later and mentioned he didn’t have a singer for the next evening’s game, and asked if I’d come back tomorrow. Everything in me said NO WAY... But I said yes. Max was standing next to me, and I knew if I said no, he’d see me giving up. I asked the manager: “You did just hear me, right? You heard me not quite hit that note?”
Yes, but the rest of the version was lovely, and I know you’ll be fine tomorrow.
So I did. I went back the next evening to redeem myself - for me, and for Max. And I nailed it.
It took me a while to recover from that experience, and to fully process my feelings about it. But at some point, as I remember blushing after hearing what Max said, the feeling of embarrassment and anger, I was transported to a moment just about a year before that, when I might have made someone feel that way.
I wasn’t snickering, I didn’t actually say anything to my friend next to me, but I do remember making faces with her as another woman was singing in front of us. I told myself she didn’t see us; I told myself she didn’t know what those expressions were about, but as I thought about my experience at the ballpark, I knew I was that woman in my recent past and resolved never to be there again.
What an awful realization.
Now, quite a few years later, I had an opportunity to shift this dynamic.
We were sitting in the bleachers of a stadium, watching our younger son graduate from high school, and the valedictorians took the stage to speak.
The first one began to speak and I could hear her voice trembling. Her tongue was tied a few times, and a few words got mixed up and didn’t make a lot of sense. There were at least 1,000 people in the audience, plus the 360+ graduates, the high school band, and all faculty and administrators.
From behind me, I heard:
Ugh… this does NOT give me much hope for the class of 2019.
I felt my face flush with embarrassment for the young woman on the stage, all alone with that microphone and over a thousand people watching and listening to her. I turned around:
Excuse me - there are at least a thousand people here watching and listening to this young woman on the stage with a microphone. I’m a professional speaker and this would make ME nervous. Could you do that without being nervous?
I turned back around, expecting our older son to be completely embarrassed by his mother’s comment to a total stranger., but he wasn’t. He smiled at me with encouragement and pride.
I didn’t notice the reaction of the people behind me, I just continued to look forward and listen to the speeches, and shouted with the rest of my family as our son’s name was called and he walked across the stage, a fresh, new high school graduate.
Have you been the one making faces, snickering, or whispering with friends while another human was performing or speaking? Do you ever think about whether you could be the one with the microphone, and if you could do better?
Life is difficult enough without the peanut gallery taking us down when we put ourselves out there, taking a risk and demonstrating vulnerability.
Maybe it’s time for all of us to grow up a little and choose to be supporting and encouraging instead.
Don’t you like yourself more when you encourage and support people?
Who would YOU rather spend time with, the person who snickers and makes fun of people, or the one who claps, smiles, and encourages people?
Episode 75: Does Anyone Really "Fit in"? How Stories Help You Find Your Community
Born in France to an American father and a German mother, Christine Homolko spent most of her childhood being shy and introverted. When her father decided to move back to the United States, she and her sister chose to move with him to a town just outside of Boston. She started her senior year of high school in a completely new environment, and realized she had an opportunity to reinvent herself in a place where no-one knew her or her history.
Fitting In Is Not the Same as Feeling Connected
Born in France to an American father and a German mother, Christine Homolko spent most of her childhood being shy and introverted. When her father decided to move back to the United States, she and her sister chose to move with him to a town just outside of Boston. She started her senior year of high school in a completely new environment, and realized she had an opportunity to reinvent herself in a place where no-one knew her or her history.
She decided that what she wanted was to step up and step out, and be a person who was brave and curious. She took that opportunity seriously, and pushed herself out of her shell.
It’s not surprising that she never felt like she really “fit in,” especially because most of the students in her class had grown up together from early childhood, kindergarten, 1st grade, etc.
That feeling of not fitting in continues to stick with her; she’s finding ways to create a community where she may not “fit in,” but she certainly finds belonging and support.
Sarah’s crest, created by Christine Homolko
Christine is an organizer by nature, and she’s using her skills in her current job and finding great success leading a communications team at the University of Luxembourg’s Centre for Security, Reliability and Trust. Her passion is art, and her illustrations are perfect demonstrations of the combination of her business experience and her love for drawing and sharing complex concepts through her art. She absolutely finds herself in flow when she’s creating art; she also finds a real sense of purpose when she helps other people break out of their shell through her coaching, whether they’re stuck in a career they don’t like or need help overcoming life’s challenges.
Connect with Christine on LinkedIn to learn more about her talents and to follow her work, and visit her website to learn more about her extraordinary talents.
During our conversation, I mentioned a TedX that had great impact on me. Here’s the video:
Episode 74: Analogies to Create a Visual Representation of an Emotional Experience
"Sometimes I feel like I'm in my car on the highway, stuck behind a big truck. I look up at the end car on the car carrier and pray it doesn't fall off the trailer onto my head."
Those words are the gift she gave me.
It took a few days, but then I realized how her analogy applied to my situation: For months I had been driving my car along the highway, stuck behind a big truck. Because I have a tendency toward being impulsive (don't laugh), I had been driving very close to the back of the truck. I had been so incredibly frustrated being stuck there, so I kept swerving out to check for an opportunity to pass the truck, only to find a blind curve or a line of vehicles coming toward me, so I had to swerve back behind the truck, more and more angry and impatient.
Analogies Can Be Personal Stories Wrapped Up in Something More Relatable to Others
Stories connect us. They help us relate to each other and deepen our understanding of experiences in our lives. Analogies can give us an entirely different perspective, and help us create a more visual representation of emotional experiences.
I wrote the following analogy to help me put things in perspective when I was having a hard time in a job that was not only a bad fit for me and my skills, it was a job that I allowed to sink into my confidence and health. Each time I re-read it, I am reminded to think about where I am, where I want to be, and how I want to get there.
Analogies can be silly or serious, and sometimes a little of both. If you can make an analogy both, you will connect with your audience, bringing out common expressions of hope and frustration in a highly visual, imaginative way.
When I was at the end of my patience with my job, I reached out to a few mentors for help. I asked one friend to visit with me and provide ideas and guidance; I hoped for concrete advice. What I got was not at all what I had envisioned and as I walked out of her office I thought it had been a waste of my lunch break.
Lucky for me, the year had been one of tremendous growth, personally and professionally, so instead of leaving my thoughts there, I realized there had to be a reason I went seeking her guidance. I knew there must have been something in the conversation I could use and apply to my recent experiences. And when I gave myself time to process the words she used, I realized she gave me the beginning of an analogy I could apply, re-apply, and continue to reinvent to serve different situations.
She said: "Sometimes I feel like I'm in my car on the highway, stuck behind a big truck. I look up at the end car on the car carrier and pray it doesn't fall off the trailer onto my head."
It took a few days, but then I realized how her analogy applied to my situation: For months I had been driving my car along the highway, stuck behind a big truck. Because I have a tendency toward being impulsive (don't laugh), I had been driving very close to the back of the truck. I had been so incredibly frustrated being stuck there, so I kept swerving out to check for an opportunity to pass the truck, only to find a blind curve or a line of vehicles coming toward me, so I had to swerve back behind the truck, more and more angry and impatient.
Not only was I angry and frustrated and feeling all the muscles and tendons in my neck get more painful and stiff, I was making everyone else in the car uncomfortable. I was driving so close to the truck that I couldn’t see anything I was passing outside the car, the beautiful landscapes I was driving through were lost to me. All I could see was the dust and debris the truck was kicking up into my windshield, and I was breathing the fumes coming out the back. I missed the music playing on my radio and the conversations going on in the backseat, conversations that were precious and unlikely to happen again.
I was driving so close that the inexperienced (and mean) truck driver was driving even more erratically, making significant and dangerous errors because he was watching my car come so close.
I had choices to make. I could keep swerving to check whether I had an opportunity to pass, not really caring whether the opportunity took me toward a positive destination, or I could sit back in my seat and get a little space between me and the back of the truck. I could keep being frustrated and sometimes angry at that damn truck in front of me, or I could make some space between us so I could see opportunities from a distance and gauge whether they might be right for me and my passengers. I could choose to see the truck much more clearly by giving it room, so I could learn more about it and be able to avoid trouble, and maybe even help if necessary.
I wasn’t in denial, I knew the truck would cloud my view here and there, kicking up big gusts and clouds of snow and rain, and that I wouldn’t always be able to keep from getting frustrated. But with the space I was creating between me and the truck, I could at least try to enjoy the music, the view, the passengers in my car.
Eventually, that truck was going to get off the highway, or I was going to find a good opportunity to pass. I couldn’t get off the highway at the next exit because there were people in the car that were relying on me to keep on truckin', so to speak. And as one of my dearest friends said "you have great company in the car!"
My sister would say that I have always lived my life knowing that it is not about the destination, but about the journey... So here I am, driving my car and (usually) making better choices, enjoying the view, including some interesting and sometimes dangerous and frustrating weather. I'll keep on driving behind the truck until I find the right opportunity for me and my passengers, I'll continue to be grateful for the comfort of my friends and family traveling with me, and I'll most definitely sit back and enjoy the music.
What's your truck right now? Have there been bigger trucks in your way? How will you handle the next slow-moving truck you're stuck behind?
Episode 73: Transitions as Opportunities for Self-Discovery
Resilience Can Look Like Minor Home Repairs and Great Parties on a Budget
It turns out that Tiffany Ann is actually quite handy, can make impressive home improvements on a limited budget, and can put on a fun birthday party for a bunch of kids for just $25.
Mount Helena, Helena, Montana
She may not have known these things about herself if she hadn’t experienced a painful divorce. With three children and no job, Tiffany Ann learned not only that she could depend on herself for minor home repairs, she learned that she was resilient, and found ways to share what she learned with others in similar situations.
Dreams Recycled came to her, well, in a dream.
Listen to this episode to find out more about Tiffany Ann, her business, and how her dream came to life.
Episode 71: Resilience and Diversity of Thought
Diversity of thought includes everything from political views to religion, and everything in between. Deb crosses pretty much every boundary, challenging those in her orbit to open our minds, consider our biases, and develop our ability to listen intensely to what isn't being said.
Using Your Stories to Generate Curiosity and Enthusiasm
Deb Helfrich is a truly unique individual. She practically raised herself in the Carnegie Library where she grew up, reading at college level at around 2nd grade. Adults and children left her to her own curiosity, with little interest or effort to find out what made her tick. It wasn't until she went to college, after advocating at her local school district to adjust the policy so she could graduate from high school in three years, that she finally found peers who could not only understand her, but challenge her in a way she hadn't experienced before.
It was her time at Carnegie Mellon University that helped develop her into a thinker who could also translate deep and complex thought to language that was approachable and applicable to everyday life.
I'm a big believer in surrounding myself with diversity of every kind, including thought. What other way can we be truly curious and demonstrate our desire for personal and professional growth?
Diversity of thought includes everything from political views to religion, and everything in between. Deb crosses pretty much every boundary, challenging those in her orbit to open our minds, consider our biases, and develop our ability to listen intensely to what isn't being said.
I'm grateful to have had the opportunity to get to know Deb, and to have interviewed her for this podcast.
During our interview, we spoke about a variety of current research, including some very interesting ideas about human evolution. Here are a couple of links to articles about the possibility that certain current diagnoses of what are considered "disabilities" may actually be human evolutionary adjustments.
From the National Center for Biotechnology Information, U.S. National Library of Medicine:
"It stands to reason that a process as complex as human neural development involves multiple pathways, signaling and metabolic, in multiple cell types."
And from Sage Journals: https://journals.sagepub.com/doi/full/10.1177/147470491100900209
"Disorders, like autism, that are so prevalent that they exceed common mutation rates are thought to have persisted because the genes responsible for them conferred some advantage in the ancestral environment."
Thank you for listening to Your Stories Don’t Define You, How You Tell Them Will. To learn more about what a communication coach can do to help you and your team nurture relationships and improve outcomes, visit Elkins Consulting.com.
Episode 70: Another Decade-ful of Stories, More Lessons Learned
Career Resilience Through Lessons Learned
We have been exploring the concept of resilience in a series of episodes of this podcast, and each one has helped me better understand this theme: Resilience can come from so many places, and for each human, it shows up differently.
Birthday hike 2019 on Mt. Helena, Helena, Montana
I’m seeing how it shows up in my guests lives, relationships, and careers, and as I hiked up the mountain behind my house on my birthday recently, I had some ah ha moments about where it shows up for me. Every year, I take time on or around my birthday for deep self-reflection. This annual tradition has helped me re-define success periodically in my life, re-focus on what really matters to me; to consider patterns that have benefitted me – and done damage. I look at those patterns in my life to help me figure out where I might be getting in my own way.
I believe that asking myself those hard questions, the ones that the answers may make me cringe and see myself in a less than positive light, is part of why I’ve demonstrated resilience throughout my life and career. When I see patterns of negative relationships, personal and professional, and understand whether and how I may be contributing to them, I can choose to make adjustments.
It’s not fun to realize you’re complicit in your struggles. It’s much, much easier (and safer) to blame others and “extenuating circumstances,” because then we don’t have to take responsibility. But doing that is not going to make me resilient. And worse, I would continue to live within a negative cycle if I don’t identify the patterns, learn lessons, and choose my next steps. I’d be lying to myself about who I am and what I stand for.
As I’ve mentioned in earlier episodes: Choose your obstacles and struggles, or they will be chosen for you.
On my quiet birthday hike, I couldn’t stop thinking about all the joy and sorrow I experienced in this decade. I lost my father-in-law, my dad, my stepdad, and a dear family friend over a period of 2 years. So much grief for our family. I also joyfully welcomed an ideal brother-in-law and three nieces into our family, and took pictures of my father, just months before he passed, filled with joy, peace, and love as he held his newest grandchild.
I watched our sons struggle through junior high and high school and come out more resilient, confident, and compassionate. I had some euphoric career highs, contributing to incredibly valuable and successful projects, and a devastating career low that took my confidence for a dive.
We had extraordinary travel adventures, float trips on the Missouri River, and had friends who are family support us in remarkable ways. And in the middle of all of that, I finished an MBA and became a professional musician – I started singing in a rock band for the first time – at 40.
As memories of all of these events were brilliantly and vividly flashing through my mind, what caught my attention were some of the incredible lessons I learned in that time.
I thought for this episode, I would share two that I can say changed and improved my life, and helped me flex my resilience muscles as I navigated my 40s:
Sometimes your contribution to a conversation isn’t necessary or helpful.
Think before you speak, and make sure others in the room have a chance to contribute.
In my 40s I switched jobs three times. The second one in that decade was a particularly bad fit; I was a compliance officer for a major Federal grant, and I don’t even like rules. On top of that, my boss and I had some major personality differences. We struggled to find balance in our shared cube, and there was palpable friction between us for the duration of our time together. My confidence took a major dive in those 2+ years, and at points throughout, I found myself sinking into depression. I learned a lot of personal lessons in that time, and I find this one continues to resonate.
It was in that job that I realized I didn’t always have to contribute my thoughts. Sometimes, I realized later, I looked like a know-it-all, and many times I didn’t leave room for others to contribute. It took some difficult circumstances for me to be able to see myself the way I was being perceived by my boss; eventually I learned to lean back in our conversations and contribute only when I truly had something of value to add - something that would bring the conversation forward or improve the project somehow.
I learned how not to antagonize her, which was the best thing I could do as I looked for a more suitable position.
When I left that job, I had learned many difficult lessons, and continue to practice (I’m still learning) that particular one a lot. That lesson was likely the most pivotal for my 40s, in terms of the application in a variety of scenarios. There have been times I’ve leaned back and allowed space for family, friends, and coaching clients, transforming my relationships with those people. Of course, I still fail sometimes in my efforts to listen more than I speak… okay, a lot of times; overall, I’ve seen my career and relationships benefit greatly from that practice.
It's so important to use your voice and speak your truth; it’s also important to know the consequences and be okay with that. When I consider speaking my truth, I think about whether my sharing it will help or change anything for the person in front of me, and then decide whether I need to share for my own needs – or for theirs. I also consider whether sharing that truth will have negative consequences, and if those will be worth the risk.
Sometimes my contribution to a conversation isn’t necessary or helpful.
Mt. Helena Summit, April 19, 2019
Another big lesson in my 40s has been to stop lying to myself about certain character traits and behaviors.
I used to think I was that empathetic friend with a shoulder to cry on. I wanted to be that friend. After an interaction with a woman who came to me multiple times every week for a couple of months, crying and re-sharing her story of devastating emotional trauma, I realized I’m not that friend.
Susan, you need to stop reliving that experience and choose your next story, your next adventure. I love you and you are always welcome here. I am just not the friend with an unending shoulder to cry on - I’m the friend you come to for a kick in the ass. I’m the friend who will sit with you and listen, and then ask the hard questions to help you find solutions, and I’ll stick by you and encourage you as you move forward.
She left my house with a puzzled, lost expression on her face, and I returned to the dining room to tell my husband what I had said to our guest. I felt terrible, partly because I thought I had hurt her feelings, and partly because I was so disappointed to acknowledge I was not the kind of friend I thought I was.
My friend came over a week later and we invited her in for dinner. She smiled as I welcomed her into the kitchen and put her to work peeling carrots. She had a light about her that I hadn’t seen since we met, which was within 8 weeks of the trauma she shared with me in those recent months.
Thank you, Sarah. You were the friend I needed last week. No one else said those words to me in that way. You made me stop to think about what I want next in my life, and for the first time since this started, I am feeling a tiny bit hopeful.
It’s so important to acknowledge aspects of yourself that you might be uncomfortable with, and either address them, or own them. Each person in my life serves a different purpose. I know who to talk to when I need a shoulder to cry on, and I know who will offer the kick-in-the-ass I might need. Now I know which role I fill, and I find it far more satisfying.
There are a couple of other lies I was telling myself about who I was, and as I became more aware of them, I either embraced my truth, or changed my behavior.
I thought I was a kind person until I caught myself talking badly behind someone’s back. I could have excused the behavior by blaming her for her unkindness, but it was my behavior that was impacting ME. I couldn’t call myself kind if I was doing that, and certainly wasn’t going to embrace that behavior. The consequence was that I didn’t LIKE myself when I behaved that way.
What are your internal lies? Are you not as kind or considerate as you think you are? Are you a complainer who carries a constant cloud around you? Are you truly a good friend to people – do you show up?
If you aren’t consistently just as respectful to the checker at the grocery store, or the server at a restaurant, as you are to a CEO, if you post hostile, personally insulting comments online, or if you don’t clean up after your dog, you might be lying to yourself about being a kind and considerate person.
If you find yourself falling down the rabbit hole of complaining, without talking also about potential solutions or gratitude for other things in your life, you might be lying to yourself about being a positive, upbeat person that people want to spend time with.
If you talk behind the backs of people, or you don’t show up for friends when you say you will, you might be lying to yourself about what kind of friend you really are.
When I was lying to myself about the kind of friend I thought I was, I did damage to myself and to those I was trying help. It was uncomfortable for me to be something I wasn’t, and I’m sure those friends I was trying to serve could see right through my efforts. Where is the trust in that?
To continue that disconnect, which I could have, I’d have to be very clear to myself about what I was doing, and be okay with the consequences. Those were likely to be more discomfort around friends, loss of friendships due to loss of trust, and the loss of my potential to help by being true to myself.
What are the consequences of the lies you’re telling yourself? Do you like yourself? Are you satisfied with who you are, truly?
There is so much beauty in growing older if we embrace these opportunities to learn about ourselves, change what isn’t working for us, and choose generosity, kindness, and curiosity in every aspect of our lives.
My definition of success at 49 is different from my definition of success in my 20s or 30s.
Spring wildflower on Mt. Helena, Helena, Montana
25 years ago my definition of success would be very different from my definition today, as I near the half-century mark. (Whoa, that sounds BIG!)
The beauty of aging – for me – has been a distinct shift in how I view, build, and maintain relationships. I’ve learned to remove toxic people from my life, surround myself with people who truly want the best for me and for our global community, and focus my attention on relationships, not things.
I’ve learned to be more comfortable in my skin.
After all, when this life comes to a grinding halt, whenever that may be, I’ll know that I was a success, based on the quality of the relationships in my life.
What will you learn in this decade of your life? What regrets will you avoid by taking steps every day to change your path?
Did I mention I love birthdays?
Thank you for listening to Your Stories Don’t Define You, How You Tell Them Will. To learn more about what a communication coach can do to help you and your team nurture relationships and improve outcomes, visit Elkins Consulting.com.
Episode 69: Obstacles and Challenges as Tools to Build Resilience
According to Valerie Gordon, there are plenty of “unlikely” scenarios in our lives. By “unlikely,” she means those things that we really don’t want in our lives, those struggles and obstacles that make our lives more difficult, and we cannot find value in them in the moment.
Stories and Strategies that Help Us Grow
According to Valerie Gordon, there are plenty of “unlikely” scenarios in our lives. By “unlikely,” she means those things that we really don’t want in our lives, those struggles and obstacles that make our lives more difficult, and we cannot find value in them in the moment while we’re experiencing them.
But these “unlikelies” as much as we don’t like them, are often pivotal times in our lives. These are the times that we are so uncomfortable that we either choose to make a major change, or a major change is forced on us.
Though I believe we can learn important, critical lessons in joy as much as we learn from struggle, if we tell our stories of struggle from the perspective of building resilience, those struggles will help us build the confidence we need not just to survive, but to thrive.
Valerie & Maddie
We discussed these “unlikelies” in the context of our stories, and how we build and practice resilience.
During our conversation, we chatted about five of these:
Conflict
Dissatisfaction
Uncertainty
Envy
Regret
Listen in to this conversation, learn more about how your stories can help you build your resilience muscles!
Connect with Valerie on LinkedIn, Facebook, Instagram, or Twitter, and sign up for her monthly newsletters on her website.
Valerie Gordon is a 10-time Emmy award-winning television producer, content creator and longtime storyteller whose work has appeared on HBO Sports, CBS News, Weekend TODAY, Lifetime and the Olympic Games.
Two years ago, she turned a bad case of burnout into a pivot and founded career and communications strategy firm Commander-in-She, combining her storytelling background with her passion for advocating for women in the workforce.
Valerie offers keynote presentations and group workshops for conferences, professional organizations and corporations to help high-achieving women with the tools and skills necessary to ascend the leadership ladder.
She’s most fascinated by impact and influence of the stories we tell ourselves and others and believes there is an even better next chapter in each of us.
A graduate of the University of Michigan, Valerie lives in Connecticut and blogs at Commander-in-She.com.