When I was a little girl, I had these hand-me-down shoes that I loved. I wore them everywhere. Anywhere, really. I don't think I cared whether they were appropriate for where I was going. If those were the shoes I wanted to wear, then those were the shoes I was wearing. And when they became too small, I still didn't want to let them go. I would squeeze my feet into them and somehow convince myself that they still fit. I imagine an adult looking at me and thinking, Child, these shoes are clearly too small. Please take them off. But I loved them. And I think about those shoes sometimes when I hear us talk about things like seasons, letting go, releasing, creating room, moving on. Usually, when we talk about letting go, there is something wrong with the thing we're letting go of. It has become toxic. It doesn't serve us anymore. It is holding us back. We have outgrown it. We need to make room for something better. And yes, sometimes that is exactly what letting go looks li...
You’re excited. Your boss is sharing a big vision — expansion plans, revenue targets, new markets. It sounds impressive. Maybe even inspiring. You start seeing yourself as part of something grand. But somewhere in the quiet moments, you realize something: Just because the company is winning doesn’t mean you are. Your salary hasn’t changed. Your title hasn’t changed. Your workload has. You start to wonder — am I helping build a vision that has no space for mine? Poem (to keep the spirit of your other pieces): They built the dream, And I gave my days. They earned the billions, And I stayed the same. Now my rent is due, And their name is in the news. I forgot to dream my own dream While building someone else's. The Illusion of Shared Progress In Kenya, company branding can be seductive. We love to be associated with the “big names.” Safaricom, Equity, Google, KCB. There’s status in saying “I work there.” But here's the honest truth: Company growth is not employe...