How this Newsletter Changed My Career Over 4 Years

Good morning, good afternoon, goodnight. I’m here to talk about more… you.

More me.

Backing up. It’s March 1, 2020. “The virus” is still only a passing topic to fill a lull in conversation, not the main debate. I’m gathering with about nine other women at a friend’s home in the Inner Sunset of San Francisco. 

We’ve been meeting like this at the start of every month, usually in someone’s home, sometimes on the beach, always surrounded by finger foods and reusable cups filled with wine and seltzer. 

We’re here to celebrate the rosh chodesh, or the start of a new Hebrew month marked by a new moon. Together, we take this monthly opportunity to reflect on, and share stories about, modern spirituality. 

With some mingling and noshing out of the way, we settle into various cushy spots around the living room and dive into the topic that this month’s appointed facilitator has chosen: Identity. 

No biggie. 

The specifics of how she landed on this prompt escape me now, but she pauses before asking the room pointedly, 

“What would it mean to be more you?”

I wait for her to elaborate, to add a little more context, but I get nothing. That’s it. That’s the prompt.

The notebook I brought with me is sitting in my lap, open to a taunting blank page. My eyes dart around the room nervously, hoping to share that knowing glance with someone else, that “you’re not getting this either? Okay, cool” look. 

But everyone else's eyes are on their own notebooks, pens moving furiously, while I’m still stalling.

“Write in the present tense, as if you are already more you,” the discussion leader adds. “How would this version of you describe themselves?”

I know the prompt is meant to be open to interpretation, but I need more direction. I need an anchor for this exercise, so I desperately try to think of a time I felt like the most me. A solo trip to LA a few summers ago comes to mind, and I start writing, hesitantly.

I am caring and compassionate.

I am playful and flirtatious.

I am curious. 

And… that’s all I’ve got.

As a self-discovery nerd who’s made a career out of helping others develop, I’m a little embarrassed by how little comes to mind when I have to describe myself.

I’m so grateful when a cell phone timer snaps us back to reality, and we can finally move onto something a little less confronting. We’re making Hamentashen. 

Back home with some extra baked goods, my mind is more alive with flashbulb examples of #MoreJanel: 

Giving my all on a creative project assignment in grade school; 

Killing it at my favorite college internship; 

Heading into a music festival solo and having the time of my life. 

Introducing myself to a handsome stranger on a city rooftop.

I feel ready to expand on the half-baked scribbles in my notebook. 

I make people laugh and feel comfortable, appreciated, and special. I’m a nurturer.

I am driven to deliver my best, most creative work. I find flow in the creative parts of my work and go above and beyond to produce something I’m proud of.

I am silly and lighthearted, kinda foolish, a little ridiculous.

I explore for the sake of exploration.

I am expressive. I write, I dance, I sing (off-key), I doodle, I debate, I collage, I build.

I take pride in my confidence and my strengths, my hopefulness and my drive, and I’m not afraid to let people see this.

If 2020 has you feeling less like yourself, try this exercise to come back to your foundation. I really want to know- what would it mean to be more you? Drop examples (in first person, natch) in the comments below and “like” the ones from others that resonate with you.

Keep going (idk, what do we think of this sign-off?), 

Janel