Everyone's Story

I’m looking around the airplane on a homeward-bound flight and wondering what stories each of my fellow passengers is living.

I’m heading home after helping my in-laws adjust to life after a major surgery. I know deep in my heart everything will be ok, but I’m wondering if I went home too soon. “Did I do the right thing?" I think. "Can they handle this on their own?” I’m conflicted. Yet I needed to go.

Passengers looked at me as I boarded earlier. One man stared at me as I buckled my safety belt and, later, as I teared up watching a movie I’d downloaded. What is he thinking about me? What story do other passengers think I’m living? Maybe they don’t think anything at all. They could just be passively watching. I look around at them too, and wonder to myself, “What are their stories?”

Is the bald guy in the white hat a few rows forward coming back from Disneyworld, or is he on his way to his father’s funeral? The woman in the red leather jacket seated on the aisle next to me – is she on a business trip, meeting a lover, going to her 40^th high school reunion?

I learn that the man in the middle seat next to me is traveling with his wife and son. Where to? Why aren’t they seated together? Are they celebrating, grieving, playing, leaving? I could ask, but I don’t. I’m content to be in my own world, thinking, worrying, about my own family.

Other passengers looking around just see me eating my sandwich, typing. They have no concept of the conversation in my head. The conversation that tells me, “It’s ok you’re going home today. We each have to find our own way in life.” We can share the road, but ultimately the journey is our own.

That woman in seat 14A – what’s her journey? Is today’s story a difficult one? A happy one? I will never know. So I will just hope the best for her. And for the man in the white hat, and the woman in the red leather jacket. And for all my fellow passengers on this journey of life.

Time is free. It’s the most important gift you can give.

Finding My Voice

There’s a lot I want to say, but I don’t. There’s a lot I want to write, but I don’t. Perhaps you can relate, especially if you work in PR and communications like I do. My professional life is about helping others craft and amplify impactful messages, speak well, tell their stories, promote a positive brand reputation. But I often wonder: In focusing on helping others share their voices, what happened to mine?

It’s not that I have suppressed my personality or that I never speak up. In fact, I have built my personal brand on being honest, communicating from a place of high integrity, and having the courage to thoughtfully say the things that need to be said. That is who I am. And yet, in putting my energy into a brand – an executive’s, a company’s, and even mine – I adopted this idea that I had to be careful about what I say all the time. Well yes, I do have to be careful. We all need to be careful about what we say to some extent. Being cruel or rude or hateful or just tactless is not the way to communicate. You may incite a lot of passion, but you probably won’t achieve anything positive.

If you are a company spokesperson, every word you say or post can reflect on that company, even if it’s on your own time and your own digital feed. Just as there is no such thing as ‘off the record’ with media, there is no such thing as a ‘private point of view’ in today’s social-media-driven society. My default has been to take the safe route. I have refrained from sharing certain comments in public forums because I don’t want to cause a problem with a friend or limit my career prospects. I’ve refrained from writing articles with personal observations and posting them online for similar reasons.

These decisions seem reasonable, but it’s possible to constrain yourself too much. What if those personal observations could enhance my career prospects? What if they start compelling conversations? And if they don’t, what's the big deal? I admire people who thoughtfully share their perspectives, even when I don’t agree with them. Why should it be any different when it comes to what I have to say?

It bugs me that in helping others work out how to express themselves eloquently and authentically, I have felt the need to suppress my own voice. I want to bring it back. In doing so, I may share ideas not everyone can relate to. I might say nothing at all. I might say something not quite right. Because it seems too controlled, less authentic, to try and perfect my own voice. My voice is most certainly imperfect, but it’s my voice. It’s time to use it more.