
You Have to Give Yourself Permission to Proceed
What will they say about you 20 years from now?
At a leadership retreat in my early 20s, the facilitator gave us a blank piece of paper and asked one question:
“Write down how a staff member, who spent two years in your care, would describe you 20 years from now.”
I stared at the page for what felt like forever.
Not because I had too many good words to choose from.
Because I wasn’t sure many people would remember me at all.
And if they did?
I wasn’t sure I’d like what they remembered.
Eventually, I started writing.
·Pushy.
·Fast.
·Loud.
·Impatient.
·Intense.
Nothing I was proud of.
It hit me hard.
Then he told us to flip the page over and write the words we hoped people would use one day.
→Patient.
→Caring.
→Steady.
→Fair.
→Present.
→Someone who made me better.
Then he said something I’ve never forgotten:
“You have to give yourself permission to proceed.”
Permission to shed your skin.
Permission to outgrow the version of you that got you here.
Permission to leave your old self behind.
That exercise changed me.
Not instantly. Not perfectly.
I’m still not sure I’ve fully arrived at the leader I wrote about on the back of that page.
But I’ve spent three decades trying.
And maybe that’s the work.
Not pretending we were born great leaders.
But caring enough to become one.
Because the people who work for us are not just labor.
They are young lives passing through our care.
And someday, 20 years from now, they will tell a story about what it felt like to be led by us.
The only question is:
Will we be proud of the story they tell?
