Kat’s mom was a therapist and her dad a writer. They self-analyzed themselves into a mess, and she struggled to find ways to address her inner emotions. She craved something completely different, and worked hard to avoid a career in any field related to her mom’s.
What's the perfect contradiction & complement to therapy? Comedy, of course!
After finishing her degree, she moved to Chicago to try her skills at improvisation, and landed a career with Second City.
How many times have you listened to a story and wanted to jump in, interrupt, to share a story of your own? Is it because you think your story is better, more meaningful or entertaining? Is it because you want to connect with the person and you know finding something in common is a good way to do that?
When I read a recent article by my friend Tom Dietzler, and he posed those questions in the context of a story he listened to, I was intrigued and reached out to ask him to chat about that on a podcast episode.
Analogies are a powerful way to shift a mindset, taking all the emotion and knowledge of something familiar, and applying it to something completely different.
In our conversation, Joe demonstrated the analogy of taking small steps in business, testing them, and shifting them when necessary to adjust to external forces, and compared that to how a whitewater canoe athlete can roll with the force of the current, testing different positions of the paddle, their body weight, and the position of their legs. Each small adjustment, taken with thought and intention, can make the difference between fighting the current and embracing its power.
I added the pronouns (she, her) to my profile name on LinkedIn a couple of weeks ago, and left a comment on a friend's post shortly afterward.
That was the first time my name came up with the pronouns, and someone I love promptly responded with "lose the pronouns" in his response to my comment.
I was annoyed, why would he care what my title says? It felt insulting, critical, like a condescending comment you'd expect from your older brother when you were teenagers. I was being judged.
Some of us make plans for the future, some simply let each day define and shape the next. I don't think any of us anticipate every potential scenario of change, transformation, or trauma. Even the most morbid or realistic of us cannot predict or prepare for the reality of tomorrow.
That's what Maria Johnson realized as she received the diagnosis of a rare disease that was quickly denying her the ability to see. She had been concerned about her eyesight, went for dozens of tests as she realized it was getting worse. It wasn't until 7 months after she went for her first doctor visit, and only one month prior to completely losing her vision and becoming legally blind, that she finally received her diagnosis. And there was nothing to be done. No cure. No treatment.
Charles Clark's mother wanted to fix it. She was desperate to see her son climb back up from the deep, deep hole she was watching him experience. Seeing someone we love in despair is likely the most painful grief.
"What can I do, Charles. How can I help you?"
"No mom, this is something I have to do myself."
When I heard this story, my eyes filled with tears. All I could think about was his mother's pain and pride in that moment. The pain of helplessness and the pride in hearing those words.
For JD Gerschbein, it was the combination of his experience in healing, as a child of a physician and as a medical student, and the desire to provide practical guidance for people to improve their potential in career and life that brought him to his moment.
"JD, I know you'll share useful information about LinkedIn for this audience... Share your story. Tell them what brought you here."
"Tell them your story."
