Dear Craig,

I've been thinking about you every now and again. I've thought of writing you a letter a few times before, but I wasn't quite sure what I was trying express yet.

I think I've got it worked out now.

I admire you.

Is it because you're the podcast host extraordinaire of your own Beer Healer series, sharing your passion for beer, brewery, and bravery with each episode?

You embody an effortless style of authenticity, so much that it isn't a style but a trait. And to its recipients it translates to feeling connected — in person, in audio, in your podcasts for work as well as your own.

Or is it because you're able to show up for work and for your family as the same person? You do both with commitment and a quality of dedication to the present. With you, there are no persona swatches; there is professional Craig, dad Craig, husband Craig, friend Craig, who all seemingly blend into a whole: human Craig.

You, ten years my senior and yet also having briefly been my direct report in the marketing team, a decade more experienced than me, taught me more about how I wanted to be through mere observation. You, who asked questions at work off-sites without any reservation, embarrassment, or ego.

Watching you, silent with my own questions unasked, again and again, convinced me there is no question too simple or too complex; there is only genuine curiosity to cast to the room, irrespective of who is there, even if it's the leadership team. Rather, because it is the leadership team.

You didn't weaponize my shortcomings against me, either; instead, you presented them to me as a means for improvement . For both of us.

"Had you explained to me why I was being taken off product videos, that would've made me feel a lot better about the change," you shared with me. "I guess that's just a bit of a feedback for you."

I had been dreading telling you that you were being taken off video production, so I decided to keep to the facts: you didn’t need to work on product videos anymore, and I deliberately didn't venture down the 'why' or acknowledge that I knew you enjoyed the work because I was terrified that would steer the conversation to a pitstop of 'feelings', out of which I wouldn't know how to navigate from my intentional stoic work personality.

I thought the formula for leadership was best obtained through instruction and boundaries, but I mistook authority for empathy. You helped me learn.

With you, there was no power play, no ambivalent dynamics, no agenda. It was a simple relationship that had space for meaningful communication and vulnerability—a concept I struggled with.

How can one display vulnerability and yet still be perceived as strong? Especially in the workplace.

You showed me it was possible.

At work, I don't always say a lot, but I would think a hundred things.

After getting hired by the company back in 2016, I would wake up often thinking, Do I need to wear high heels again to look the part?

Have I been working here long enough to transition to a t-shirt, jeans, and Converses?

How casual is too casual?

In the earlier days, I would question how much smiley faces were necessary in emails.

I don’t smile often in person, so why force a smile in an email?

Will my email sound too direct if I don't soften it with an emoji?

If I don't find it necessary to use an exclamation mark after saying thanks or congratulations, will people know that I still mean it just as much?

Can I share my cat obsession with cat gifs and silly pictures of my cat dressed up in costumes, and still be taken seriously?

Which colors of my personality are safe to show?

I tried to pare myself back to a diplomatic, greyscale version of myself in the workplace. Like the movie Pleasantville, I sought out security in self-imposed reservation.

The same was true for my first friendships and relationships.

In meeting new people, I wonder, Is what I said funny, or weird? I thought it was funny, but did they?

Is my posture straight enough?

Am I standing tall enough?

What impression am I giving off?

At my core, I constantly still feel like the insecure, self-conscious, “emotional” little sister who wanted so badly just to feel valued and included within the tight bond my brother and sister had with each other. But I always felt the divide that stemmed from our family tree. Me, the offspring of my father, separate from the 1st family my siblings had with their dad.

Our shared mom didn't feel like enough to bridge the divide.

Recently though, I decided to take up figure skating lessons. Each Tuesday, I show up at the ice-skating rink, ready and excited. And each Tuesday, I know how scared I feel of falling with each progressing skill. And while I haven't completely been able to avoid the accidental toe-pick dives to the ice, the times I fell haven't been so painful. There's the initial shock of losing balance, but then I steady myself back up on my two feet, and think, That wasn't so bad.

I guess that's what growth can look like, right?

Subtle but deliberate, with each small decision compounding onto the next. Putting one foot in front of the other, knowing that each Tuesday I choose to step back out onto the ice, if I keep at it with diligence and care, one of these days I'll master how to glide over the ice with ease, grace, and confidence, until it's just the one version of myself on the rink that is my life.

So, thank you, Craig.

Thank you for allowing me to briefly view myself as you have.

At the edge of 34 years old, I finally feel like the person I want to be is a little less and less different to the person I feel that I am.

Which is to say, I'm beginning to feel like I am enough.