Someone once said I was “prolific on LinkedIn” — because I share a lot about my life. Is that good or bad? And what could it do for you?
As an influencer for women, my role is to inspire, motivate and support, and that comes with the need to build emotional connection. But whether you're an influencer or not, your network and community can help you through change. You might decide on a different platform or a smaller group to share it in — and that's okay.
When I'm out networking for business, I go in with the elevator pitch ready. And yet it's almost never the pitch people remember me for. It's the personal stories.
Someone will find me at the coffee table weeks or months later, and it won't be to talk about Salesforce or training programmes. It'll be about the hard bit of life that struck a chord with them and stuck.
Menopause
A man I'd just met at a networking event started talking to me about menopause symptoms.
Loss
Another told me about a close friend who had lost their parents, and their child growing up without grandparents.
Divorce
Again and again, divorce — people wanting to say out loud the part they hadn't said to anyone else.
Health
Endometriosis and other health issues, quietly managed alongside the day job.
None of those conversations happen if I only ever show the polished version. They happen because at some point I said something true about my own life — and it gave the other person permission to do the same.
People have told me those stories inspired them to make a change. Others have simply reached out to help. Neither happens in silence.
“Your voice is one of the most important tools you have to evoke change. When we stay silent, we suppress our own needs — and our capacity to make a difference.”
What silence does to us
Before we get to the posting bit, it's worth saying what happens when we don't. Our voice is how we express what's going on for us — and when it goes unused, the body tends to keep the score.
The lump in your throat
Unexpressed emotion has a physical address
That tight, lump-like feeling in the throat has a name — globus pharyngeus. Stress and unexpressed emotions activate the fight-or-flight response, and via neural pathways involving the vagus nerve the cricopharyngeus muscle around the throat spasms and tightens. Holding it in isn't a metaphor. It's the throat literally closing around the words you didn't say.
Which is why expressing it matters — out loud, to a friend, to a coach, in a support group, or in writing. Not because it's brave, but because your nervous system needs the release valve.
The post that changes everything
You'll have seen them on LinkedIn. Someone finally writes the honest post — they've been job hunting for months, the applications have gone nowhere, they need help. And it goes everywhere. Introductions, interviews, offers. One post, and the whole picture changes.
Those people weren't more deserving than anyone else scrolling past. They were just the ones who said it out loud.
So how much do you share?
Being open doesn't mean broadcasting everything. These are the four rules I use.
Share the scar, not the wound
You don't owe anyone your rawest moment. Wait until you can tell it from steady ground — then it helps someone else instead of costing you.
Pick the right platform
LinkedIn is not a diary and a WhatsApp group is not a stage. Match the story to the room. A close friend, a support group, a coach and a public post are four different audiences.
Ask for the specific thing
“I'm looking for a marketing role in Bristol, three days a week” travels further than “things are tough”. If you don't ask, you don't get.
Get someone to press post
If writing it is too much right now, that's fine. Draft it with a friend, let them write it, let them post it. The point is that it gets said — not that you did it alone.
The moral of the story is simple: don't sit in quietness. Ask for help. Share your experience on the right platforms, with the right people, in your own time. It might be the one thing that changes everything — for you, or for the person reading it who thought they were the only one.