Amy Swift Crosby

If I stop writing, will people forget about me? Or unsubscribe?
Will my ideas still be there when I return to them?
And (quietly), have I’ve wasted this opportunity by “taking a break”?
Or alternately, does is not matter…enough?

Isn’t it interesting to see what the mind does to sabotage an otherwise great idea.

These were a few of the fears swirling through me in late July as I contemplated ‘pressing pause’ on the blog – and work in general. As I pushed back clients to September in order to take an August hiatus, I also made space in my schedule by setting aside the blog for five weeks. But with that decision came much angst about the consequences of a pause.

So many of us are unknowingly enslaved by ‘the machine.’ Beyond just social media feeds, it’s the fear that if we pull back from our public identities, we may find ourselves adrift, unable to get back on course. It takes hard work to stay in the public conversation, whatever yours may be, and it takes an equal measure of confidence to step out of it now and then — and gaze upon the horizon ­— to go dark.

What I learned during this self-imposed break was that I didn’t suddenly lose my ability to have quality thoughts or publish meaningful words. Publishing a weekly blog forces me to take a point of view, and commit to ideas and questions that might otherwise slip through my fingers – unresolved. That’s it. Of course I love the endorphins that spark a domino effect of likes, forwards or replies. I’m as vulnerable as anyone to digital flattery. But just as it’s hard for a CEO to shut down email for two weeks, or for a pop star to give up Instagram for a month, or for a founder to get perspective via traveling sabbatical, so is it for each of us to pull back from what we do to make sure we know who we are — without those validations.

Is reinvention, or perspective, so daunting that we’d rather keep up the status quo — replying, submitting, authorizing and showing up — because stepping away may reveal a truth? And maybe that truth will involve change?

Intentional breaks have a purpose and a place, but so often when we don’t know what to do, it’s easier to be in action, than (what feels like) stillness. Maybe questioning the thing we think makes us “us” is the best way to disrupt what is at best an illusion, and at worst, a crutch that limits our real potential.

You are not your company.
You are not your book.
You are not your blog
You are not your feed.

Freedom = reclaiming the lever that has you believing that you are the sum of your marketing, persona, asset or deliverable.

Most of us fall into one of two camps: Upsellers or Downsellers.

Upsellers are always going to give you the bright side — the pitch on why you should do x, y, or z. They are perceived by many as positive.

Downsellers, on the other hand, are always going to offer up both the strengths and weaknesses of doing that same x, y, or z. They may or may not be invested in enrolling you in the experience. Still, they — or shall I say we – are often perceived as being critical.

Our “spiritually” over-saturated culture has done much to create an unwritten code of positivity. An allegiance to being “positive” throughout every interaction has become ubiquitous. Upsellers are rewarded for their limitless positivity, while Downsellers are thought to be “downers.”

Clearly, it triggers something in me because as a life long Downseller, I think it’s disingenuous to put a positive spin on experiences or products simply to avoid being thought of as “negative.“ When did critical thinking translate to bad mojo?  I see it less as a view on someone’s disposition and more a difference in filters.

But here’s the problem.

A Downseller can’t unsee what she sees (I’ve tried.) I can walk into a freshly cleaned kitchen and see tomato sauce on a floorboard before I acknowledge the sparkling counters. It also means I can open a design presentation or read a headline and identify why it doesn’t (yet) work. I don’t particularly like the burden of the ‘gift’ at times, but an engaged and critical mind serves me well at work and adds a lens to how I see the world that creates value for my clients.

The reason Downsellers make great consultants is that they have a very high “negativity bias,” which in simple terms means, they see what’s missing naturally and quickly. Whether creatively, operationally, or managerially, this ability acts like X-Ray vision, and is precisely what allows them to improve what others may think is finished – unearthing blind spots that can be game-changing for a business.

Downsellers may appear to see the glass half empty, but the reality is, we just see the glass for what it is; clean, dirty, soap spots, lipstick rims. The thoughts presented by a Downseller may be harder to swallow, but in certain circumstances, could prove to be more potent.

But if I’m being really honest, we sometimes come off as continuously unsatisfied, with standards that can’t be met. And that’s not really useful, for any reason.

So…

A challenge to Downsellers: We need to use our powers for good, and position whatever feedback we have with a solution in mind. We can present our ‘truth’ with enthusiasm, support and genuine intention. And there is no harm in turning off the filter when it no longer serves the mission.

And to Upsellers: Please know that we do what we do because we care. We may have an opinion about everything, which admittedly gets tiring, but know that because of us, there is probably less mediocrity in the world. #yourewelcome

For those of you who feel ambivalent about placing yourselves at the center of your brand’s marketing efforts, this commentary is for you.

Years ago, as the creator of monthly SMARTY events, I was moderating panels of extraordinary women helming press-worthy businesses. This visibility placed me on the receiving end of some considerable attention and unexpected brand opportunities. While it was all very positive, it forced me to think carefully about how to respond to it-and how to leverage it. You’ve probably had to consider similar choices.

The prevailing advice I heard at that time was to “Make it about me.” Smart, well-meaning people tried to convince me to lead by example, which would have required me to build a digital platform and take pictures of myself on vacation or enjoying the fruits of my labor, all while espousing tips on “how you, too, can become…bigger/better/richer.” Or basically, more like me.

Although this approach may be profitable, at the time, it gave me the moral stomach flu.

It makes me question where we want to live when it comes to self-promotion — and where do we start to get a little nauseated by it? Is there anything wrong with sharing talents, achievements and deluxe vistas as a brand strategy? Not inherently. After all, this is at the heart of social media.

Yet, as the chief promotional officers of our own brands, many of us feel simultaneously that we are the best hood ornament for what we sell while being keenly aware of the tension it produces.

One script does not fit all — and I think everyone has to answer this for herself. I moved 3,000 miles away from me-as-a-brand-opportunity due, in part, to ambition fatigue. Not because I was exhausting myself with my own, but because being around so much ambition, and the resulting self-promotion, was exhausting me. That’s my own tolerance showing, not a judgment against what anyone else’s may be.

But….in a world where professional narcissism is at an all time high, there should be some self-imposed guardrails. My own requirement is that I not embarrass myself (to myself). That, I cannot live with, no matter the applause that may be generated “out there.”

Here’s a thought that may be relevant for anyone — whether flexing abs in a bikini or doling out champagne dreams from Rome: Even if you are your own brand, and you are the thing you’re selling-whether it be expertise, wisdom or flip flops-consider that there’s a lot more longevity in standing for something bigger than yourself.

The spotlight may be required to stay on you, for whatever reason, but my advice (did I just contradict myself?) is to make yourself a representative of the mission. Not the mission itself.