Who’s holding the director’s mic inside your head? 

Do they deserve it?

A few months ago I realized I’d been hiding.

I’ve had some old stories from an abusive leader running the show in the back of my mind.

(Have you done that? Regina George from high school is still telling you no one likes you. That one aunt is still in your head saying you’re bossy. That ridiculous guy in college is still repeating no one will ever want you.)

And the past few weeks, I’ve been handing the director’s mic back to this weak leader’s message:

You can’t be funny and professional.

I mean, I’m an Enneagram Seven. Fun and Joy and Humor is my core!

But yet, the reverb of that message has carried into my writing and how I presented myself in meetings and on stages.

“Don’t make a joke, or they won’t think you’re an expert.”

“Don’t make that reference. Someone may be offended.”

“Don’t laugh too loud and too much. People don’t like that.”

 

The reverb of that message has carried into my writing and how I presented myself in meetings and on stages

I’ve been really tempted to hide again. To deliver safe information.

It’s helpful, sure.

But it’s like I’m giving you an Aldi frozen chicken patty, when I know perfectly well how to make a kick-ass homemade fried chicken sandwich that would make you think Chick-Fil-A is dirt. (I can actually make that sandwich. But I digress…)

So as I’ve been on more stages and talking to more corporate leaders, I see this message come back again. 

Here’s my action: I’ve unplugged that insecure leader’s mic. His voice doesn’t get to have any volume in my head.

That voice doesn’t get to have any volume in my head.

If you don’t like funny with substance, I’m not your girl.

I wish you well and may the road rise to meet you as you click the unfollow button.

Still here? I promise you the real me. Joyful, kind, hilarious, brilliant, caring, and deep.

We’re gonna explore the Enneagram in real ways. We’re gonna talk about the hard things like doubt, conflict resolution, and anti-racism. We’re gonna lead with humility and confidence. And we’re gonna laugh loudly while we do it. (Well, I will. I hope you do too!)

So here’s my question for you:

Who has the director’s mic in your head? How can I help you unplug that thing?