You deserve a seat at the table… of your life.

This weekend, I’ve been preparing for a pretty big speaking opportunity. On Thursday, I’ll be speaking at the National Conference of CASHE about something that has become incredibly important to me: talking about the tough things. Why it matters, why we need to break stigmas, and why the workplace cannot somehow be separated from the humans who walk into it every day.

Preparing for Thursday

Because people don’t leave their lives at the door when they come to work. They bring the divorce, family court, mental health struggles, sick parents, financial stress, grief, relationships, kids, diagnoses, and the things happening at home no one else knows about. We’ve just gotten really, really good at hiding it. We smile, say “I’m good,” learn the socially acceptable phrases that keep everyone comfortable, and get back to work.

I’ve been part of the working world since I was incredibly young. I became pregnant at 16, became a mom at 17, and from that point forward, working two jobs was simply part of my life. At 43, I have experienced the good, the bad, and everything in between when it comes to workplaces.

So when I walk into that room Thursday, I know I have 60 minutes to hopefully plant a seed that someone carries back into their workplace and does something differently with.

Because I take that responsibility seriously, this weekend I practiced. I put on the high heels I’ll be wearing to make sure I could comfortably walk in them. I recorded myself, listened to my projection, watched my body language, timed the presentation, made revisions, and cut things I really liked because respecting the time I’ve been given matters more than squeezing in everything I want to say.

And somewhere in the middle of all of that, I realized: this is 1% better, too.

For the last several weeks, I’ve been talking a lot about becoming 1% better, and the more I practice it, the more I realize how many areas of our lives it touches. Sometimes 1% better is doing something more (or less). Sometimes it’s having the conversation, protecting something important, slowing down, or simply deciding that what you say matters to you should actually be reflected in how you live.

That last one has been especially important to me lately.

For most of my life, I would have described myself as a completely open book. Today, I think I’m about a 98% open book. There is so much of my life I willingly share because I believe our lived experiences can help another human feel understood, less alone, or perhaps see something from a perspective they hadn’t considered before.

Turned my tahoe around to capture this mural… stop and look at the flowers

But I’ve also learned there is about 2% that belongs to me. And I really like that 2%.

Protecting something doesn’t mean hiding it. Privacy and secrecy are not the same thing. Sometimes protecting something simply means recognizing that not everything meaningful has to become available for public consumption.

Interestingly, as I’ve had more opportunities to speak, be interviewed on podcasts, and connect with people, I’ve been asked some version of the same question: What do you want people to leave the experience of meeting you with?

For a long time, I think I knew the answer. I just hadn’t put words to it.

You deserve a seat at the table of your own life.

Nobody gets to take that seat away from you, but there is another part of that statement that matters just as much: don’t remove yourself from it either.

Don’t become so busy that you stop participating in your own life. Don’t become so accustomed to accommodating everyone else that you forget to ask yourself what you need. And don’t tell yourself something matters and then consistently give it whatever time happens to be left over.

I had an opportunity to practice that this week. There is someone important in my life, and both of our lives are incredibly full. I appreciate that there isn’t a competition over whose plate is heavier. We both have careers, children, responsibilities, goals, and things demanding our attention. Neither person’s “a lot” has to outweigh the other’s.

While talking about the weeks ahead, I listened to everything coming up and essentially said, “There’s no room for me in there.” Not as an accusation or ultimatum. It was simply an observation.

What mattered to me was the response. Instead of it becoming a setback, it became a pivot: I need to figure it out. I need to remember that you can go with me.

That probably sounds incredibly simple, but for someone who has spent portions of her life learning to make herself small in relationships, it meant something. I’ve spent years unlearning the idea that I am too much of everything while somehow simultaneously not enough of anything.

Healthy doesn’t require one person to disappear so the other person can maintain their life. Sometimes healthy is two people looking at two very full lives and asking, “How do we make room for each other here?”

That doesn’t mean spending 24/7 together. It means making the time you do have matter. It means giving consideration and also allowing yourself to receive it.

It had also been an unusually rainy week in Arizona, and that evening we ended up sitting outside after the rain. It was one of those seemingly insignificant moments that mattered to them in one way and mattered to me for a different.

Maybe that’s part of 1% better, too. Slowing down enough to recognize healthy when it arrives. Receiving consideration instead of only giving it. Recognizing growth, healing, compatibility, and the moments that deserve to simply be enjoyed.

August felt like a month of doors opening for me. September has felt like the month of actually walking through them and practicing what I said mattered—personally, professionally, and relationally.

Because when you truly choose the life you want, the career you want, the relationships you want, the goals you’re pursuing, and the things you want to advocate for, your actions start reflecting those choices. Your conversations change. Your boundaries change. What you say yes to changes. What you say no to changes.

And slowly, your life begins reflecting your choices instead of simply your circumstances.

So maybe this week, look at your own table.

You deserve a seat there, but you also get to choose who else sits beside you.

Who do you want there? What are you building together? Does the table you’re sitting at resemble the life you say you want?

Give yourself permission to rebuild it if it doesn’t. Some people may stay. Some chairs may become empty. You might build an entirely new table. And for a season, maybe the only person sitting there is you.

Just make sure you’re building a table that someday, when you look back at your life, you’ll be grateful you had the courage to sit at.

This life of mine, I’m loving.

Choose your seat. Choose your people. Choose what matters. Then live in a way that reflects what you chose.

That’s 1% better, too.

As always, I see you. I love you. You matter to me, and I’m sure I’ll talk to you soon.

— Sam