Every so often, someone will tell me, “You have the coolest life.” 

I understand why.

They see the photos from a Knicks championship parade. A gallery opening. A celebrity portrait. A backstage moment.

Most brands think community is something you launch. A campaign, an event, a moment.

Something you announce, people show up to, and then ideally stick around.

Every now and then, a switch flips and I start moving conversationally at a speed that not everyone in the room signed up for.

I call it Vince Vaughn-ing. (unofficially Coined)

I’ve spent a lot of time second-guessing myself.

Not publicly. Not dramatically but quietly.

The kind of second-guessing that looks like competence from the outside. The kind that still shows up, hits numbers, runs meetings, makes decisions, builds things. But underneath it, there’s a whisper:

Are you actually qualified to be here?

Are you just good at presenting confidence?

At what point does someone figure it out?

There’s another strange truth about corporate communication nobody really talks about:

The people who respond the slowest often survive the longest.

There’s this version of grief that no one really prepares you for.. the quiet kind that shows up after everything else has already happened and time moves on.

After the calls. After the arrangements. After everyone tells you they’re sorry for your loss.

There are seasons where I feel run down. WINTER 2026 is one of them. I don’t love the phrase “burnt out” because it feels dramatic. Like something is broken or something needs to change or even end... What I’m feeing is a bit more subtle than that. It’s the slow erosion that comes from giving a lot of yourself away every day.