“You have to watch it, you love Ryan Reynolds!” That’s my boyfriend’s go-to pitch, and this time, he queued up Welcome to Wrexham—the documentary series starring Ryan Reynolds and Rob McElhenney, chronicling their wild adventure as the new owners of Wrexham A.F.C. (Soccer, for those of us born in the U.S. of A.)
Confession: I was embarrassingly unaware of Rob McElhenney before this series. My partner schooled me on his role in It’s Always Sunny in Philadelphia, but I hadn’t seen it, and my curiosity for Rob’s brain and leadership style was instantly piqued.
But let’s hit pause on the TV for a second, because something equally unexpected was happening on my end. I’d just launched my daily blog—now lovingly named The Practice of Showing Up—and tossed a version of it up on LinkedIn. I expected a handful of loyal friends and maybe a colleague or two to hit subscribe. Honestly, this was supposed to be a private pep talk more than a public proclamation.
But then… people started subscribing. Not just friends. Not just acquaintances. Strangers. My brain played the numbers game:
- 65 followers: “Probably just my network.”
- 89: “Wait, who ARE these people?”
- 97: “Huh, nearly 100. That’s a milestone, right?”
- 111: “Oh no, it’s actually happening. People really want to hear from… me?”
Cue the existential spiral: What if I let them down? What if I can’t keep up with this daily rhythm? What if I disappoint them? What if they realize I’m no Seth Godin?
And just when the imposter syndrome was cranking up the volume, Ryan Reynolds dropped this line on the show:
“I don’t care if you’re a movie star. I don’t care if you’re driving a fork lift. When you’re in a situation where you are seeking the approval of other people your brain is always going, ‘They’re going to say no. They’re onto me.’ Imposter Syndrome is in full effect.”
Right? It doesn’t matter who you are—movie star, manager, creative, or parent—imposter syndrome plays dirty. I’ve missed opportunities in the past, not for lack of talent or drive, but because I was hiding in plain sight, hoping for someone to tap me on the shoulder and say “You’re up.” Maybe you know that feeling too—the shrinking, the silence, the urge to blend into the wallpaper instead of stepping forward.
Not anymore. I’m done playing small. If you’re ready, I want you to step out too.
Yesterday was one of those rare, beautiful days where creativity felt effortless—words tumbled out, ideas sparkled, and pressing ‘publish’ felt like play. That feeling? That’s what I’m chasing more of. As the ever-brilliant Seth Godin reminds us:
“We don’t ship because we’re creative. We’re creative because we ship.”
Creativity demands oxygen. It needs to see the light of day. This—this blog, this experiment, these imperfect words—is my way of breathing life into my work, regardless of who’s watching or where it goes.
So here’s me, showing up (again) for you and for me. If it inspires you, amazing. If you take a nugget of encouragement and pass it along to someone else, even better.
May your hope feel like “Espoir”—not just wishing, but expecting. Let your imagination run wild with possibility, like violins swelling and sunlight spilling across a field. My promise as a leader, friend, and fellow traveler? I’ll plant the flag so you can rise higher too.
We live in a world addicted to doomscrolling, to panic and pessimism. But just for today, Espoir yourself into a brighter story—and like a friendship bracelet at a Taylor Swift concert, pass it on.
Leave Room for Magic,
Kabrina
Want more?
Subscribe to The Practice of Showing Up and share this with someone who needs a little nudge to let their own voice out. The world is waiting.
