An email dropped into my inbox on Monday morning with the subject line: Let’s Stop Pretending.
It caught me at exactly the wrong moment.
School run done. Coffee reheated (twice). A to-do list that felt longer than my actual working week. And that familiar, low-level hum of “You should probably know more than you do.”
The email, from Tricia at The Female CEO, talked about how we’ve been conditioned to believe we need all the answers. That walking into a room without them feels like turning up without your handbag. Slightly exposed. Mildly irresponsible.
And it resonated. Slightly uncomfortably so.
Because if I’m honest, I spend an awful lot of time trying to look like I know exactly what I’m doing. In meetings. On calls. Even in casual conversations at the school gates.
I’ll answer confidently. Decisively, even. As if I’ve mapped it all out. When in reality? Half the time I’m figuring it out on the fly.
I was sitting in a room full of very impressive people, recently, disussing how to optimise affiliate links for digital reach. I nodded along. Smiled. Made a mental note to Google it later.
I didn’t ask.
Not because I didn’t want to know. But because I didn’t want to be the one who didn’t know. That tiny decision stayed with me far longer than it should have.
It reminded me of when my daughter asks me something wildly specific before breakfast. “Mummy, how do people invent numbers?” Or, “Why do grown-ups fall out with friends?”
And sometimes I start to answer as if I’m the authority on the entire human experience (Which I most definitely am not, in case you were wondering.)
It’s taken all my effort to answer differently; “I’m not sure. What do you think?”
But if feels less like I’m auditioning for the role of All-Knowing Adult.
The Female CEO email talked about the pressure we place on ourselves to be encyclopaedic; to have the five-year plan, the financial strategy, the polished answer ready at all times. And it resonated because I recognise that version of myself.
The one who over-prepares.
Who rehearses.
Who double-checks before speaking.
There’s nothing wrong with being prepared. But there is something exhausting about believing you must always be certain.
I think I have quietly equated “I don’t know” with failure.
When actually, most of the turning points in my life have started with not knowing.
Not knowing how to pivot.
Not knowing how to grow something new. Or raise a small person.
Not knowing how to balance ambition with motherhood without dropping something fragile in the process.
And yet, here we are.
Still building.
Still learning.
Still stretching.
The older I get (and the more rooms I sit in), the more I realise that the people I admire most aren’t the ones who speak the longest or loudest.
They’re the ones who ask the most interesting questions. The ones who admit they’re still working it out. And I don’t think any less of them. They’re only human after all.
So, the point of my ramblings; maybe we’re not supposed to know it all. Maybe we’re supposed to be in motion.
Curious.
Willing.
Occasionally unsure.
And maybe the real confidence isn’t in having every answer lined up neatly in your handbag but in being unafraid to admit you left a few at home.
