Walking in My Own Shoes

I got asked a question in coaching today that stopped me in my tracks: Where do you want to be at the end of the year?

My answer wasn't neat or polished. It took me a moment to find the words. But when they came, they felt true:

I want to feel like I'm walking in my own shoes, not trying to fill someone else's.

What Does That Actually Look Like?

You know those moments when you catch yourself thinking: Well, so-and-so would do it this way or That person has it all figured out. Why don't I?

When you're making a decision and you're not actually thinking about what feels right for you, you're thinking about what the "proper" way to do it is. What the business guru says. What that leader you admire would do. What's expected.

That's walking in someone else's shoes.

And the thing is, their shoes don't fit. They pinch. They rub. You're stumbling around like a toddler in your mum's heels, all wobble and no grace. You end up wondering why everything feels so hard when it looks easy for everyone else.

The Wrong Shoes Entirely

Self-doubt creeps in. All the time.

Am I doing the right thing? What if I fail? What if I've got this completely wrong?

I don't like the term "imposter syndrome." I'm not an imposter when I start something new, I'm just doing something I haven't done before. I still carry 18 years of leadership experience behind me. That doesn't vanish just because I'm navigating unfamiliar territory.

But there have been days, plenty of them, when I've felt like I'm wearing the wrong shoes entirely.

Why don't I know how to do this yet? Why does it feel so hard?

And that's when I realised: I've been measuring my stride against other people's footprints instead of trusting my own.

No wonder I kept tripping over my own feet.

The Space to See Clearly

Here's what I'm learning: You can't figure out what your own shoes look like when you're running at full speed.

You need space. Actual, protected, uninterrupted thinking space. Not to beat yourself up or analyse what you're doing wrong, but to pause long enough to ask:

What feels right for me? What do I value? What's my version of this?

That's what coaching gives you, both when you receive it and when you offer it. Time to step back from the rapids and see the river more clearly. In that space, you start to notice things:

• The decisions that feel aligned vs. the ones that feel forced

• The ways you naturally lead vs. the ways you think you "should"

• The path that's yours vs. the one you're supposed to follow

  
  

What Kind of Shoes Do I Want?

Here's the thing: I'm not looking for cosy slippers. (Although I did get an awesome pair for Christmas.)

I know there will always be uncomfortable days. I know there will be more barriers, more moments where I'll need to be brave and face something new so I can keep moving forwards.

But uncomfortable doesn't have to mean wrong.

The rapids are still rapids whether you're wearing hiking boots or ballet shoes. The difference is whether you're steady on your feet, whether you trust your footing.

So what kind of shoes do I want?

Ones that fit me. That feel like mine. That let me navigate the terrain ahead without constantly second-guessing every step.

Sturdy enough for the rough patches. Flexible enough to adapt when the path shifts. Comfortable enough that I'm not limping by Friday.

Shoes I chose. Shoes that suit the way I move.

Moving Forwards

So here's where I want to be at the end of the year:

Standing steady. In my own shoes. Trusting my footing.

Not pretending the terrain is easy. Not avoiding the uncomfortable bits. Not waiting until I feel completely certain before I take the next step.

Just... walking forwards. In shoes that fit.

And when self-doubt creeps in, because it will, I want to be able to pause, catch my breath, and remind myself:

You're not an imposter. You're just walking a path you haven't walked before. And that's exactly what you're meant to be doing.

That's what I'm working on. That's what coaching is helping me do. And that's what I want for every leader I work with too. To walk in their own shoes. To lead on their own terms. Not someone else's version of leadership. Theirs.

What about you?

Are you walking in your own shoes, or trying to fill someone else's?

If this resonates, let's talk. Sometimes all you need is space to figure out what your own shoes even look like.