Lately, I've found it difficult to log in to LinkedIn or any social media platform, for that matter. The performative nature of it all often feels disingenuous, with people showing up but not having the courage to truly be seen. I'm guilty of this too. While I've spoken openly about the failure of my first startup, there are many other setbacks I haven't shared, fearing others' judgment. 

Like many, I curate my highlight reel, inadvertently creating an alternate reality where we only share half-truths. I worry that this practice does a disservice to us all, hinging our identity on how we're perceived by others.

When we hide what’s broken we miss out on all the beauty that can come when we work to mend it.

In Japan, there's an art form called Kintsugi, where broken pottery is repaired with gold, symbolizing that our imperfections can be transformed into something beautiful. Originating in the 15th century, Kintsugi serves as a reminder that there's beauty and strength in our imperfections.

While the pressure to "perform" in all facets of our life is pervasive, Kintsugi gently nudges us to embrace our imperfections. Of course, I wouldn’t recommend sharing everything with everyone—that's why we have our people. However, by only posting the sunny side of our career path, we set an unattainable cultural standard and create an unsustainable lifestyle. Each post may not be high stakes, but collectively, they create the stories we believe, and the lives we live, often missing the truth.

The formulas for growth, silver bullet money makers, and linear ladder success narratives are a dime a dozen right now. But what truly captivates me are the people who understand that hiding our brokenness isn't necessary; in fact, it's the art of mending that makes us whole once again. 

These days, that’s what I’m after. I’d rather find gold.