Candid Conversation Newsletter: The Broken Mirror

On discipline, duality, and the quiet cost of adaptability

I’ve been looking for a new role for a while. There are several reasons, but one stands out: I’m craving more structure.

I’ve always operated somewhere between focus and drift. Some days I’m all precision—dialed in, almost militant. Other days I feel unanchored, like I’m floating without direction. Maybe that split comes from growing up in a strict environment. The kind where you’re taught to be seen but not heard.

Hear that often enough, and eventually you stop expecting to be seen at all.

People love to say, “The squeaky wheel gets the oil.” But what about the ones who don’t squeak? The quiet contributors who show up, carry the weight, and don’t ask for attention?

Sometimes talent doesn’t speak up. Sometimes it adapts. And that adaptability can be mistaken for passivity.

You end up overlooked—not because something’s missing, but because someone read you wrong.

And that kind of invisibility? It doesn’t feel accidental. It feels designed.

The silence after showing up 🤫

I prepared. I practiced. I mapped out answers, sketched frameworks, imagined conversations until they all ran together.

And then—nothing. A final, polite message. No feedback. No next step. Just an ending. Only, it didn’t feel like one.

There’s this line I read that won’t leave me:

“When a man can no longer discern his own features in the mirror, he is drawn into a relentless duel with his own shadow.”

Melodramatic? Maybe. But it hit something.

Not because the rejection broke me. But because it cracked the gap wide open—between what I know I bring and how that’s perceived.

And the shadow? It doesn’t yell. It just waits.

It’s there when I replay the conversation. When I wonder what I could’ve done differently. It doesn’t offer critique. Just observation.

And somehow, that’s worse.

Because I showed up. Fully. And still wasn’t fully seen.

When the brain’s alarm bell rings 🛎️

Psychologist Lisa Feldman Barrett calls this a “prediction error.” The brain doesn’t just respond to the world—it predicts it. Constantly. It builds models based on the past. Then it prepares you for what should happen next.

So when reality doesn’t match the script?

The brain doesn’t just shrug. It panics. It sounds the alarm.

That moment when the prepared, thoughtful, capable version of you is met with silence? Your brain flags it: This isn’t how this was supposed to go.

And what gets lost isn’t just the opportunity. It’s the model. The internal map of how the world works. The story you told yourself about how effort connects to outcome.

In its place? Uncertainty. A kind of static where clarity used to be.

Acceptance as quiet power😶

Carl Rogers called it the paradox of self-acceptance. That real change only begins when we accept ourselves as we are.

I’m not quite there yet. But I’m getting closer. Acceptance isn’t giving up. It’s acknowledging that I showed up the best way I knew how. That counts for something. Therapy, reflection, rejection—none of it is meant to destroy you. But it does peel things back. It reveals. And beneath all that discomfort, I can still see it: the effort, the preparation, the care. 

Those things haven’t disappeared.

When the mirror isn’t neutral 🪞

Here’s the part that stings the most. Sometimes, it’s not you. Sometimes, it’s the mirror.

The person across from you isn’t evaluating capability. They’re scanning for something familiar. A tone they recognize. A resume that looks like theirs. A way of solving problems that feels like home.

Not because you’re not qualified. But because they weren’t looking for difference. They were looking for a reflection. Barrett’s research comes back here too, our brains aren’t just perceiving. They’re predicting. And if you don’t match the pattern?

You might not register at all. Not because you lack value. But because the mirror was too narrow to hold you.

The illusion of alignment 🗣️

There’s a name for this. Psychologists call it “similar-to-me bias.”

The more senior the decision-maker, the more likely they are to mistake comfort for competence.

It’s not about building the best team. It’s about building the most familiar one.

But that’s not innovation. That’s safety.

And safety tends to recycle itself.

If alignment means sameness, then difference never stands a chance.

Innovation lives in dissonance 😇

Daniel Goleman once warned us not to treat talent as fixed.

Real innovation doesn’t come from echo chambers. It comes from tension. From misfit thinking. From the person who doesn’t mirror the team—because they’re meant to add to it, not blend in.

So maybe rejection doesn’t mean you lacked something. Maybe it just reflects the limits of someone else’s lens.

And if the mirror couldn’t see you, maybe it wasn’t made for you in the first place.

Reclaiming agency 💪🏿

So I’m not shrinking to fit. I’m not sanding down the parts of me that don’t match a template.

I’m not for everyone. That’s the point.

And I’m still here, not because someone validated my worth, but because I finally decided to see it for myself.

Maybe I wasn’t the right fit. Not for that room. Not that day.

But that doesn’t mean I stop.

It means I refine.

Not to win the next round. But to be more ready for the things that matter.

Growth doesn’t start with proving anyone wrong.

It starts when you realize rejection isn’t the ending.

It’s just a different kind of beginning, and I get a say in how it’s started.