I love my work. I love my colleagues. But work is a professional environment – one where I prefer to behave in a way that I consider to be professional. It’s not a place where I typically allow myself to get teared up and speak from the heart. But it has happened, and there is something liberating about being unapologetically raw.

The Women in Leadership Award

One year, at International Women’s Day, my colleagues recognized me with an award – a Women in Leadership award. I knew that I was going to be getting this award, so I had been thinking about what I wanted to say when I accepted it. I believe that my success is due in a large part to the people around me. I certainly contribute to my own success; however, succeeding for me is a team sport. So my plan going in was to express my gratitude for the recognition, and talk about what was important to me as a leader, including have a great team.

On the day of the event, my great boss and mentor, Greg, was the Master of Ceremonies for the day and would be presenting the award. We had an awesome guest facilitator, Marsha Clark, who was taking us through a day of self-discovery and reflection. I remember that a part of the day had gone by, and I was sitting at a table near the front of the room. The award presentation time was coming up, and I looked over to the side and got the shock of the day.

For the award presentation, my team decided it would be great to surprise me and invite some of my family to be there to see me get the award. My husband, daughter and son were there, along with our nanny, and my mom and aunt. Our children were about 6 and 8 years old at the time, so they were missing school to be there for the event.

I don’t know if this has happened to you, but my children are my undoing. Before I had children, I was very logical, factual, very much in control of my emotions. Since I have had children, I’m the person who cries during touching scenes in movies. In fact, the end of Bréne Brown’s Call to Courage moves me to tears every time.

So now what?

I turned to a couple of colleagues sitting beside me, Binny and Rob, and I said, “What should I do? I am going to get teared up. I could just say thank you. Or I can try to talk through my tears.” And this was literally 15-30 seconds before I was going to have to go on stage in front of about 100 colleagues, clients and, as it turned out, my family. I remember Binny looking at me and saying, “Just say thank you.”

And as I walked up to the stage, I really wasn’t sure what I was going to do. As an introduction, Greg gave a really nice speech about feeling wonderful about recognizing my contribution as a Women in Leadership recipient, and everyone starts clapping, and I walk up on stage.

The stage is one of those set of risers at the front of a long rectangular conference centre room. So I’m elevated and speaking into a microphone. People are seated at round tables from the front of the room to the back. I can’t quite make out the peoples’ faces at the back of the room. But I can see the people sitting at the front tables.

As I start my speech, I still don’t know what I’m going to do.

My Moment of Choice

As I say my first “Thank you”, the tears start streaming down my face. And in that moment I decide that I’m going to say what I have to say, even if that means I have to talk through my tears.

I made that decision because the award for me was a meaningful recognition and because not speaking my truth didn’t feel like the right thing to do. So I am bawling – not the ugly crying where you’re sobbing, but the joyful kind where the tears are streaming down your face because you’re happy. And I say my piece.

I thank my colleagues. I reflect a little bit on what the award means to me. I thank my family. I thank my nanny for looking after my children, who are like my heart living outside my body. And I thank my children for being my inspirations.

And the whole time I am crying.

At some point I look down at my front table colleagues and I see that I’ve got every single person at those front tables crying. Men and women – it didn’t matter. Some of them were trying to figure out how to be super subtle about it, holding it back, and swiping the tears away discreetly from their eyes. Others were just smiling and letting the tears stream down their faces.

My boss who was standing on the stage beside me was trying really hard not to look at me because he knew that if he looked over at me he’d start crying too.

And when it was all said and done, and I said my final “Thank you,” the lovely, awesome Marsha Clark stood up and started clapping. And so did everyone else.

My speech was messy. It was raw. It was authentic. It wasn’t what I had planned. But it was real. I didn’t apologize for it. I didn’t make excuses about it. I just was raw – unapologetically raw.

My son, who was about 6, said to me, “Mama, you’re crying but I think you’re happy.”

And I replied, “Yes, that’s right, sweet pea. I’m crying and I’m happy.”

When I think about Brene Brown’s Call to Courage, and what it means to be brave: to act in a moment of uncertainty, risk or emotional exposure, I reflect on this experience. Too often we shy away from real feelings, from real emotions, and from really connecting as human beings.

Several years later, I met a colleague at a social event, and he said to me. I remember you. You spoke at International Women’s Day when you got that award.

Do you think he would have remembered an ordinary speech?  Probably not.

Now I’m not saying wear your heart on your sleeve every day, all day. But there are times where you can and should let it all hang out.

Be unapologetically raw.

Let your kids see you crying with joy.

Don’t be afraid to be memorable.

We would love to hear a time when you were unapologetically raw. Please share your comments with us.

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