From Squeaks to Stages: Reflecting on Public Speaking, Rest, and the Year Ahead

Not too long ago, I was standing in front of a crowd of nearly 200 people, preparing to introduce a keynote speaker. It was my first real opportunity to speak in public since school, outside of media interviews or a DJ's quick quips at events. In social work, everything I did was one-on-one or small group. As a DJ, the music carried the room, and my words were just punctuation.

That day, though, it was just me and a microphone. I’d spent countless hours helping plan the event as part of the organizing committee, and I wanted my introduction to reflect that. I remember crafting what I thought was a thoughtful, meaningful intro. But when the moment came, I froze. My voice cracked, I squeaked, and I managed to say only the bare minimum. It was over before I could recover, and I felt like I had failed.

The sting of that moment deepened when my boss at the time approached me and said, "Wow, you really messed that up. What happened? You aren’t very good at public speaking." Crushing, yes—but it wasn’t the end of the story.

Later, someone I barely knew at the time but respected and admired deeply, approached me: Yvonne Pilon . We’d worked together on the committee for the event, and she wasn’t my boss then—just someone I looked up to as proof that young people in our community could do big things. She asked me how I thought I did, and I admitted, "Not great." She smiled and said something that has stuck with me ever since: "No one else had your script. The keynote took the stage, and the event kept rolling—that’s what matters. Most of our mistakes are invisible to others; only we truly see them."

That perspective reframed the experience for me. Yes, I had stumbled, but that stumble was mine alone to own and learn from. It was the push I needed to improve. Over the years, I’ve learned from mentors, admired incredible speakers, and practiced relentlessly. That squeak wasn’t a failure; it was a starting point—a reminder that we all begin at the ground floor when we want to grow.

This year alone, I had the chance to speak to over 2,000 people about the work I love. I shared stories of entrepreneurs, the ideas and initiatives I’ve been fortunate to help shape, and the valuable lessons I’ve learned along the way. But I also chose to pass on some speaking opportunities, deciding instead to simply attend, listen, and learn. Both experiences—speaking and stepping back—are equally valuable.

Yet, that fear never fully goes away. Before every talk, there’s still a flicker of doubt: What if my first word is a squeak? But I’ve come to realize that fear is a terrible reason not to do something. Growth lives in the scary moments.

As I reflect on this journey, I’m also taking a moment to step back. From now until January, I’ll be taking a break from LinkedIn to lean into time with family and friends, but also to focus on strategy and connecting deeply with our clients. My goal is to ensure they feel completely supported heading into the holidays. I’m acutely aware of the pressures entrepreneurs are facing right now, and this time of year is never easy. It’s a privilege to work alongside them, and I want to make sure they know they’re not navigating these challenges alone.

One of the things I’m most excited about is continuing to build out the Interaction Engine. A framework built for the science of economic development, which I’ll start sharing more openly in these blogs in January. It’s the culmination of what I’ve learned over the last decade in the profession of Economic Development and a vision for how we can create lasting impact in Windsor-Essex and beyond.

Finally, I want to say thank you. This newsletter has been a space for vulnerability, ideas, and connection. When I started it, I didn’t know what to expect. But with 1,500 subscribers, 28,000 impressions, and 15,000 article reads, I’m humbled and grateful for this community.

To anyone reading this, thank you. For your time, your engagement, and for being part of this journey. Wishing you rest, reflection, and a bit of bravery as we head into a new year.

See you in January!