The tiny box confessional.

Someone out there needs to hear what you've got to say.

I wrote a Substack note about the many thoughts I delete…and then I deleted that.

The note I deleted: “The amount of controversial things I write in a box but then delete is HIGH….. realizing more and more how challenging/controversial I really am”

So, naturally, I start to unpack whatever that behavior is —

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The tiny box confessional

There’s a tiny box that knows things about me that no one else does.

The comment box. The LinkedIn draft. The text I typed and then held my thumb over until I talked myself out of it. Poof, gone, deleted.

The amount of controversial things I write in a tiny box and then delete is HIGH. I’m realizing that more and more lately. How much I actually think. How many opinions I have that never see the light of day.

For a self-proclaimed “life observer” there’s some irony here.

The draft I deleted that led me here

Here’s the most recent example: I wrote something about leadership for LinkedIn. Specifically about a type of leader I really can’t stand.

The no-sh*t leader. The one who stands in front of a room and says things everyone already knows. We need to sell more. We can’t lose any more people. We need to get that one in for the month.

All statements that make everyone in the room want to respond with: no sh*t.

And the most painful part is that leader walks away thinking they just motivated their team, but the reality is everyone left feeling the opposite. Unmotivated and checked out because that’s not leadership. A leader’s job is to clear the path forward for their people, not to point out all the weeds in their way.

I’ve believed this for years. I was even super intentional about not being this kind of leader when working in corporate. It’s in the DNA of what I believe good leadership is. So for me it’s not at all a hot take. It’s just true and I lived it.

So I wrote it out, made it digestible, and formatted it so it would land the LinkedIn way.

And then… deleted it. But WHY?

Hidden calculations we’re running

Here’s what’s strange. The decision to delete happened before I even realized I was making one. Because the second I finished writing it, the questions came flooding in. Fast and almost automatic. Like they’d been waiting for me to finish so they could have their turn to speak:

How will this land? Is this too direct? Too harsh? And if I’m being really honest… is this too much coming from me? As a woman? Will it read as controversial or aggressive? Too bro? Too pushy?

That last part is the one that bothers me most. Because maybe controversial isn't even the right word. Controversial implies you're trying to provoke something. When what’s actually happening is that some people are just further along in a specific thought than the room they're in. And that can read as “too much” to someone who just hasn't gotten there yet. But it's not the same thing.

Because I didn’t write something aggressive. I wrote something true. Something I’ve believed and practiced for the better part of my career and what made me a successful leader. But somewhere between the thought and the post button, I started editing myself through someone else’s imagined reaction.

That’s the cost/gain calculation.

On one side: what could this cost me? Being misread, the wrong audience seeing it, coming across as too much, too aggressive, too whatever…

On the other side: what do I gain by saying this? Clarity, connection, putting something I think is true and helpful into the world.

And the problem isn’t that we run the calculation… that’s actually probably smart.

I think it’s that we put too much weight on the cost side. The hypothetical negative reaction of a person we’ve usually never met and many times even imagined up somehow carries more weight than the years of experience that earned the thought in the first place.

So here’s the question

At what point did we decide that the loudest voice in the room gets to be the hypothetical critic? And why do we keep letting them win before they’ve even shown up? And what would we say if we knew the imagined reaction didn’t count?

I’ve said this exact phrase about leadership in rooms, in 1:1s, and in feedback for years. So why did I doubt it? Why did I trust the hypothetical reaction of a stranger on the internet more than I trusted my own years of lived experience?

The timing of this adds to the irony and maybe that’s why I’m even noticing it.

Last week at a retreat, Alexandra Cole (a Human Design coach) was unpacking my chart with me. And at one point she looked me dead on and said: You have something worth saying. There will be many times you’ll doubt it. The worth of it, the delivery of it…. but it’s worth saying. Even if it’s just for one person. So share it anyway and don’t overthink it.

That encouragement meant everything.

And then exactly one week later, there I was. Deleting and cost calculating. Unknowingly doing the exact thing she told me not to do.

That critic isn’t even real. We built them up and let them have a row seat of every thought we almost posted, almost said out loud, and then deleted.

And the annoying part is that the imagined audience is always harsher than the real one. The person we’re so afraid of misreading us probably isn’t even paying attention anyway. And what comes instead when we do say the thing is someone sliding into our DMs saying things like: Same. I’ve been thinking that for years. This is exactly what I needed today. Thank you for saying it.

That’s the real “cost” of the calculation. The silence. The idea that somewhere out there is someone who needs to hear exactly what was just deleted and now they won’t. And that's what Alex was urging me to remember when the doubt creeps in.

So the question really shouldn't be whether the opinion is “too much”. It should be whether this pesky imagined critic is more important than the real person who needs to hear what we’re brave enough to say out loud.

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Tables Ready is an open conversation with my readers and a chance for me to get to know you too. If this resonated or reminded you of your own version of this, I’d love to hear about it in the comments or message me in my inbox.