Back when I was in the pro cheerleading circuit, I wouldn’t tell anyone when I was auditioning—just in case I didn’t make the team. Not making it was common (kind of like layoffs in the Valley), but with my fragile early-twenties ego, I couldn’t bear the embarrassment I thought would follow. So, I kept quiet.
And then one time it caught up with me.
True story: I was living in SoCal, attending Long Beach State. It was great, but it was also the first time in six years I wasn’t on a dance or cheer team. Between missing Friday night hangouts with the parents, home-cooked meals and the rhythm of choreography, I decided to finish my senior year at San Jose State and move back home. Oh—and there was also my sweet, fooine Hoop Star boyfriend back home. (Yeah, that part.)
Since I was moving back, I decided to audition for the NFL’s Oakland Raiders Raiderettes cheer team. Their auditions were in Oakland (a 6.5-hour drive from Long Beach, without traffic) and spanned two months. So there I was—flying back and forth to audition rounds and rehearsals (God bless JetBlue), juggling classes, a part-time job, and keeping the whole affair quiet.
One day, I left a voicemail for a friend to let them know when I’d land so they could scoop me from the airport and take me to practice. Except… the message somehow landed in my boyfriend’s inbox instead. (To this day—no clue how.) My poor boyfriend called me in tears, asking why I was flying to Oakland and why someone else was picking me up. Not wanting to put this angel baby through any more trouble, I fessed up.
After all that, I didn’t even make the team, but that’s beside the point.
From Hiding My Moves to Taking Center Stage
I’ve been thinking about that story a lot lately, how I used to keep big moves to myself out of fear I wouldn’t “make the team.” And how, years later, I found myself in a moment where hiding wasn’t an option.
My first-ever featured speaking engagement as a bona fide Founder aired last week at the Scale-Up Summit 2025—a big thing I proudly broadcasted. Very unusual for me, if you’ve been paying attention.
If you had told me a year ago I’d be giving a talk to a room full of entrepreneurs, I would’ve laughed nervously, while backing slowly out the door. And let me tell you: when you’re expecting to present slides (something I’ve done for decades) vs. appearing interview-style to discuss your brand-new business image, and no slides? Totally different beast.
Seven Days of Panic
It was pre-recorded, and by the time I confirmed, I had only 7 days to:
– propose 3 topics and descriptions,
– get them approved,
– create a freebie (or two, in my case)
– build a landing page to distribute it, and
– prepare and nail answers to potential questions.
Somehow, I got it all done in time. Fast-forward 26 days—it was Day One of the Summit, and I was already comparing my segment to the 5 or so other guest speakers I’d seen (even though mine wouldn’t air until Day Four). I tried to lean into my 2025 motto—progress over perfection—but, not gonna lie, I struggled to maintain my optimism.
By Day Three, I’d seen at least 20 presentations. My biggest takeaway?
Wow. These speakers are really good at this.
With mine airing the next day, the recovering perfectionist in me wished I’d had more experience—and more time.
But I haven’t even gotten to the hardest part.
This was the first time I’d be in front of an audience larger than friends, family, clients, or subscribers, talking about my brand, my interests, my reasons for doing this work. I’m no stranger to presenting, production, or packed rooms. But for the last twenty years, I’d done it under the umbrella of an employer, on their mission, their metrics, their customers. Never mine.
And while my uber-supportive loved ones had no doubt I’d do great, they (unintentionally) brushed off how real my nerves were. They knew my track record. They’d seen me in action. They couldn’t understand why I was nervous. But what they forgot was this tiny detail:
I was presenting myself—for the first time—as a Writer, Strategist, Faith-based Mentor.
Entrepreneur, not employee.
There was no marketing team I could run to for talking points. No PR team to tell me what was okay to say. I was completely on my own, folks. Which brings me to the scariest moment of all.
The question I hadn’t prepared for.
“Erin, what role does faith play in your work?”
Such a simple question. But no one had ever asked me that before.
It wasn’t that I didn’t know what to say—I’ve talked about work and faith for decades. Separately. Never boldly together. Not like this. As I answered, I felt the conflict rising. I wanted to share—but how much was too much?
For someone with decades in High Tech—whose intros sounded like “Hi, I’m Erin, Senior Manager on the Zero Trust Advisory unit at Palo Alto Networks”—suddenly saying “Hi, I’m Erin, founder of Workplace Woke. Let me drop some Scripture right quick” felt foreign.
In my head, I kept thinking:
She’s probably going to cut me off. Ask me to move on. Tell me to tone it down.
The irony? The Summit’s entire theme was Woo + Do (soul + strategy). The perfect setting for someone like me. Yet years of corporate conditioning had me doubting it was okay.
You can take the girl out of corporate, but you can’t always take corporate out of the girl.
Saying it out loud for the first time
This was perhaps the most exposed I’d ever felt professionally—sharing the most precious part of me with an audience I didn’t know beyond their titles and our shared passion for growth.
You’d think I’d be nervous about talking about my brand, my why, or the stunning free resource I created to go with my talk (yes—it’s gorgeous; check it out). But no.
Sharing what I know best, studied longest, and hold closest—my love for Jesus, my relationship with God, my Christian way of life?
Whoa!
When Your Deepest Truth Feels Like Your Biggest Risk
If you’re building something new—or stepping into a bigger version of yourself—you’ll hit a moment where the thing you know best, the thing that feels most natural to you, suddenly feels risky to share out loud.
Not because you don’t know it.
Not because you aren’t qualified.
But because it’s yours. Personal. And no one’s asked you to prove that expertise before.
We spend so much of our careers sharpening the skills companies reward us for—things like:
– shipping clean code,
– closing multi-million dollar deals,
– running polished webinars,
– leading spotless projects.
But when it comes time to share something less tangible—your beliefs…at work—it can feel scarier than all the above combined. You’re standing on what you know to be true, in the deepest parts of you. Not a job title or a fancy corporate brand.
And that’s what this moment was for me.
The first time I made it clear:
Yes, I’m here to help you build powerful workplace and sales strategies.
Yes, I’m here to mentor you on navigating complex leadership.
Yes, I’m here to help you win in business without losing yourself.
But I’m also here because of what I believe.
My faith informs how I lead.
My values shape how I teach.
My relationship with God grounds how I show up.
This was my version of “auditioning for the Raiderettes” all over again—but this time? I wasn’t keeping it quiet.
And Nobody Freaked Out.
The host smiled, related, and even shared her own beliefs.
The recording wrapped without incident.
No one cut me off.
No one asked me to tone it down.
So why am I telling you all this? Because if you’re anything like me, you’ve got a version of that story waiting in you, too. Something you’ve done for years. Something that flows naturally. Something you’ve probably kept tucked away because it didn’t fit neatly into a LinkedIn headline or corporate bio.
But Here’s the Truth:
That “thing” you’ve dismissed as too personal or too obvious?
It’s not disqualifying or unprofessional.
It’s your edge.
It’s the differentiator that sets your leadership apart. The wisdom that no certification or title can replace.
The reason someone, somewhere, is waiting for you, not just another generic expert.
For me, it was finally saying out loud:
I’m not just a strategist. I’m a strategist whose leadership is anchored in faith, values, and conviction.
For you? Maybe it’s that your creativity is shaped by your immigrant story.
Maybe your approach to sales is grounded in the empathy you learned from fostering rescue animals.
Maybe your management style is influenced by years of community organizing, parenting, or mentoring.
Whatever it is, it counts.
It’s time to stop sidelining the most powerful parts of you just because no one explicitly asked for them on a résumé.
And, you know what?
I’m also sharing this because I did something big. And I’m going to celebrate it.
Just because I’m behind this screen and not in the cube next to you doesn’t mean I’ll downplay it. Your girl did the dang thing, and it’s worth shouting from the blogging treetops. Celebrating openly is something I’m working on, and I appreciate you walking alongside me in my growth.
Let’s normalize celebrating out loud
You get it now:
I was scared.
It was hard.
I didn’t feel prepared, didn’t think I had the bandwidth.
I wanted to promote it, but also didn’t want to invite anyone to watch it, just in case.
And I did it anyway.
No matter the outcome, I can’t deny how good that feels.
I’ve said it before: You don’t have to be the most polished, experienced, or prepared to offer something valuable. Showing up imperfectly models something powerful. It says: It’s safe to grow and be seen at the same time.
Honestly? I wish more people shared what big career moments really felt like:
- How did it feel?
- What did you learn?
- Would you do it again? Why or why not?
- What was your favorite thing about it?
Wouldn’t you love to shower them with props?
So if you’re lookin’ good—Let us know.
Killed that preso? Holler!
Stood up for yourself and still left the other person’s dignity intact? That deserves some shine.
You’re growing and you’re feeling yourself? Yaaas! So proud.
Bring that spectacular, can’t-duplicate-it-if-they-tried YOU energy—we’re here for it!
As for me? I’ll keep celebrating my wins here. Don’t leave me hanging, though. I hope you’ll celebrate yours, too.
A note from Erin: Thank you for being here! If these ideas or perspectives resonate with you, I’d love for you to subscribe or share them with someone you care about. If you’re looking to make a change, or when the time feels right, I’m here to help. Check out my new “WORK WITH ME” page to explore how we can collaborate—or swing by my “CONTACT” page to say hello, ask a question, or start a conversation.
