The silence that turned me into a leader
It’s one of the loudest silences stored in my memory bank. A silence so transformational it still speaks to me decades later.
And it all started with a simple request to meet up over lunch.
Yet, in that pivotal moment, my brain shut out the noisy restaurant. The discussion at our table full of local advertising leaders had snapped into a tense stillness.
Who was going to take the reins of the local advertising federation chapter?
The chapter was in dire need of leadership after a run of bad timing. The current president was leaving the industry. Someone else was being relocated. Another had health concerns. One by one, the pillars of the community stepped back until someone even suggested shuttering the chapter altogether.
The irony? Everyone at that table loved what the chapter stood for — the award competitions, the student mentorships, the sense of community. But no one had the capacity lead.
As a new board member and young creative director, I was lucky to even be at that table. I listened hard, taking in the stories and ideas these ad leaders shared. These were the people I looked up to. So I stayed quiet. Curious. Present.
Then came that silence — forks clinking, ice rattling in empty tea glasses — until a timid voice finally broke through:
“Well… if no one else can fill in as president, I guess I could?”
Then all eyes turned to me. And breathed a collective sigh of relief.
Yep. I had just volunteered to lead a struggling professional organization. Me — with only months of management experience and less than a year of Ad Fed involvement.
I was nervous about my boss’s reaction. Nervous about the numbers and goals. Nervous about recruiting board members when I’d never recruited anyone in my life.
But here’s what surprised me: My boss was thrilled. My rookie status actually helped me recruit. And somehow, our ragtag group went on to win regional and national awards for chapter growth.
More importantly, I became a leader. I became a collaborator. I became more myself through the process — refined by the decisions, challenges, and conversations that shaped me.
That year wasn’t about goals. It was about growth. It wasn’t about performance. It was about presence. It wasn’t about the title. It was about transformation.
As meetings and conversations start turning toward planning for 2026, it’s tempting to focus on numbers, KPIs, and tidy spreadsheets.
But here’s the question that’s stayed with me ever since that day:
The question isn’t what do I want to achieve — it’s who am I becoming while I achieve it?
When we focus on the becoming, our goals take on deeper meaning. We show up with curiosity instead of control. With courage instead of certainty. With presence instead of performance.
So as you look ahead to 2026, try this:
Write down one word that describes who you want to become next year — not what you want to accomplish, but who you’ll need to be to make it meaningful.
Because sometimes the biggest breakthrough isn’t the goal we reach. It’s who we become on the way there.
With presence,
Jackie
PS: If this idea of becoming hits home, I’d love to hear what word you chose for 2026. Hit reply and tell me. I read every response.
And if you're craving clarity on your own becoming, that's what I help clients uncover. Learn more here
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Hi there! I'm Jackie.
I help thoughtful people turn clarity + connection into the kind of leadership others want to follow.
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