American culture teaches us that self-sufficiency and independence are synonymous with success. In a highly individualistic culture, accomplishing things on your own is a virtue. I think we’re getting it wrong. Opening ourselves up to receiving help can be humbling, vulnerable, scary, and courageous. It’s learning to gracefully receive help from others that’s a virtue—and a needed professional skill.

Mission driven leaders are loyal to the mission. Loyal to the team. Loyal to the organization. But what about loyalty to self?

We are living in a time when careers aren't just work—they are an opportunity for self-expression.

We want more from our jobs than a steady paycheck and stability; we're looking for meaning, an opportunity to make a difference.

This might sound like the type of statement that would make the higher ups start rolling their eyes and lament about those darn high-maintenance millennials. But I believe that it's not just a millennial trait. Our larger American work culture is changing, and the age of purpose is a part of that shift...

I'm headed to two graduations this weekend, and that sea of caps and gowns makes me think back to my own transition from those "time-honored walls" into the real world. 

Here's a snapshot of baby Carole Ann, with my mom adjusting my silly hat and glasses; I was SO ready to close the "good student" chapter of my life and take the world by storm. But there was a hitch: I graduated with a liberal arts degree and absolutely no understanding of how to frame my skill set. (Can I get an amen?)

I'm thinking this week about David Whyte's Crossing the Unknown Sea: Work as a Pilgrimage of Identity, which I read years ago but continues to stay with me as one of my favorite books about career paths. Whyte is a poet who applies poetry to corporate life; he's even sometimes known as the Corporate Poet (you guys, there's truly a job out there for each of us). 

In his book, he examines the meaning of Rainer Maria Rilke's poem, The Swan, translated by Robert Bly, as it applies to our work identities. Swans lumber awkwardly on land, but as soon as they lower themselves into the water, they become an image of grace and belonging.

Last week marked one year since Penney Leadership went live! Many of you have asked about my transition into entrepreneurship and what it's been like to own my own business. Today I'm pulling back the curtain to look behind-the-scenes.

The last year has completely exceeded my expectations—it's been so fun, meaningful, and exciting. I've gotten to build a life and a business around my personal mission, values, natural strengths, and the kind of success that I find most meaningful.

Someone asked me this morning about the most surprising thing about my experience thus far. This is it…

Here is a photo of my amazing mentee, Miriam. We were connected through a formal mentoring program at Brown University called Women's Launch Pad; it pairs female juniors and seniors with Brown alumni women to support the transition to life after college. (Oh how I wish I had the program when I was a senior!) 

When Miriam first reached out to me, she wrote me one of the most professional emails I'd ever received in my life. It was my first time in a formal role as mentor. It was her first time building a professional relationship with someone who wasn't a professor. We were both a little intimidated by each other.

It's been four years since then, and she's moved through a few steps in her career already. Through all of that, we've kept in touch—sharing updates and questions as we find ourselves at crossroads again and again. 

Last week, we were invited back to our alma mater for the kickoff panel for this year's program; we got to reflect on our time together and share our tips for making the most of a mentoring relationship.

Here are some of our favorites…

About three months ago, I sat down for lunch at a Thai restaurant in Connecticut with a woman named Anne.

She is the managing partner of Fio Partners, a nonprofit consulting firm that I've been following for about three years: I'd hired them to facilitate staff retreats for my former organization, connected with everyone I knew who knew them, and had informational interviews with nearly every member of the six-person team about their lives as consultants. 

This meeting was less of a job interview and more of a conversation. It just felt right. I would join the team. I would complement my individual coaching at Penney Leadership with organizational consulting through Fio Partners. I would bring together my coaching expertise with my nonprofit management experience and tools to serve a wide variety of organizations. And the coconut soup was delicious.

It's what I've wanted for years. 

In the car on the way home, I called my best friend to share the news. She flipped, squealing, "ARE YOU SO EXCITED RIGHT NOW?" But I wasn't jumping out of my seat with elation—instead, I felt a total calm and coherence. It was a kind of deep knowing that my whole life had led me to this moment.

How do I know that? Here’s how…

A friend of mine recently started a nursing job at a new hospital. As part of the standard orientation plan, she was assigned a preceptor to show her the ropes and acclimate her to the hospital's policies.

But instead of being a supportive and encouraging leader, the trainer was constantly looming over my friend's shoulder, speaking over her during report-outs, and making unnecessary stylistic corrections to her written reports.

Instead of feeling confident and at home at the new hospital, my friend—an experienced and wonderful nurse—felt distrusted, incompetent, and frustrated. After just two shifts, she was going out of her mind. And the training period was six weeks long!

Each time I saw her, she was pulling her hair out, venting, and counting down the days. As we sipped gin and tonics on the porch after one particularly rough shift, I asked her:

What if, instead of seeing this as a frustrating and demoralizing situation, there was another way of looking at it?

Achieve. Excel. Prove. Strive. Progress. 

These are all words that I would use to describe my approach to my career path in my first decade out of college. In a job interview along the way, one of the panelists asked me to what I attributed the "meteoritic rise" detailed on my resume. Me, a meteor! The question took me by surprise because I thought the answer was so obvious that it wasn't worth asking. Isn't that what the world wanted from me? Isn't that what I've been taught my whole life to be aiming towards? Rise to the top. Go to the best school. Get the best grades. Perform. Strive. Achieve. 

This is a sense ingrained in many young professionals today. We expect to advance quickly, to rise within our organizations, to display an impressive job title on our LinkedIn page.

A few years ago, my book club read a book on being transgressive in the workplace. It wasn't a particularly wonderful or memorable book, but there was one sentence in one chapter that has become a guiding principle for me: Everyone should have their own personal board of directors.

Since then, I've intentionally collected mentors whom (whether they know it or not) I consider to be members of my board.

Here's why your board is a critical part of your career development, and three tips to build you board.

"I'm afraid of making a mistake. I'm afraid of making the wrong choice."

One of my clients is wrestling with the next step of her career. She feels as though the path she chooses at this point will determine the course of her career—like one choice is a mountain where she'll start at the bottom and determinedly, over time work her way up to the top.

But what if she makes the wrong choice? Does it mean that if she changes her mind, she'll need to go all the way to the bottom of another mountain and start all over again?

This may have been how things worked in the past, but it's not how they work today... 

This week, I've talked with two separate people who told me that, if asked about their current work situations, they would likely burst into tears. These are awesome, passionate, mission-driven people, who have so much to contribute to a team and a workplace. But they are encountering some big, uncomfortable feelings—something is calling them to take the next steps in their careers.  

The feeling that it's time to move on is an inconvenient one, with a lot of complex questions and daunting tasks.

In today's working world, instability is the norm. Gone are the days of wrapping your identity and your life around one company and one career path. Phrases like "the gig economy" and "job-hopping" are part of our vernacular, and changing not just jobs but careers every four or so years is common.

Some would say that this is disorienting and overwhelming. I say it is an opportunity to define and lead our own career paths in new and exciting ways. But we need to be prepared.