A few weeks ago, my best friend sent me an Instagram post with a caption that said: “You have unique expertise, but you aren’t leadership material…that one sentence crushed me, I had spent years working hard.” It wasn’t my story, but it could have been. Reading it hit uncomfortably close to home.
It made me pause and ask: why do I want the promotion? Would I even like the job at the next level up? Do I even like the job I have now?
The truth is—I do. I like being in the mix of creativity, strategy, and execution. I like collaborating with other sharp minds and being the person who can take an idea from whiteboard to real-world impact. Middle management has its sweet spot: my job doesn’t keep me up at night (most of the time), and I get something that’s priceless—time with my kids.
So then, why do I want the promotion?
The obvious answer is money. Promotions mean bigger paychecks, and raising twins doesn’t exactly come cheap. But it’s more nuanced than that. It’s hard not to want the promotion—or at least more recognition—when you’re consistently handed tasks that stretch well outside your job description. Not in the petty “that’s not my job” sense, but in the “this really should be someone else’s responsibility” sense. You do it, you deliver, and still…the title doesn’t change. The paycheck doesn’t change. That mismatch stings.
I’m often “in the room” with executive-level people who don’t quite take me seriously. It’s not that I don’t belong there—I do. My track record of success should speak for itself, but somehow it doesn’t. Maybe because my title says “Manager” instead of “Director.” Maybe because in corporate America, perception sometimes outweighs performance.
When I look at personality frameworks like the DiSC analysis, I test high on both D and I. For anyone unfamiliar, the DiSC assessment is a behavioral tool used in workplaces worldwide to understand communication styles and leadership potential. It breaks personalities into four main categories:
- D: Dominance – results-driven, direct, and focused on goals. High-D people thrive when solving problems and pushing for outcomes.
- I: Influence – enthusiastic, people-oriented, and persuasive. High-I people inspire others, build relationships, and bring energy to teams.
- S: Steadiness – dependable, patient, and supportive. High-S people create stability and are often the glue holding a team together.
- C: Conscientiousness – detail-oriented, analytical, and focused on accuracy. High-C people value structure, quality, and precision.
Most people have a blend of these traits, but the balance tells you a lot about how someone shows up at work. I’m a strong D and I, which means I’m goal-driven, action-oriented, and direct, but I also thrive in collaboration and energize others. On paper, those are leadership traits. In practice, they can sometimes be misinterpreted. A direct woman can be called “too blunt.” An enthusiastic communicator can be seen as “too much.” Funny how the very qualities that make you effective can also hold you back, depending on who’s holding the measuring stick.
So what makes someone “not leadership material”? I’m still not sure. Maybe it’s not that I lack the qualities—it’s that the environment I’m in doesn’t value the ones I bring to the table.
I recently read Ina Garten’s memoir, Be Ready When the Luck Happens. In it, she shares her unlikely career path—walking away from a policy job at the White House, buying a specialty food shop with no real experience, and slowly building what became the Barefoot Contessa brand. What struck me wasn’t just her boldness but her perspective: she never pretended every opportunity was perfect. She talks about learning to “know the good breaks from the bad” and the importance of being prepared when luck comes your way.
That advice sits with me. Maybe my “good break” right now is the balance I have—professional fulfillment without the 24/7 grind, plus the gift of time with my kids. Or maybe it means I’m still waiting for that door to open where my skills and ambition line up with the right opportunity. Either way, being prepared when luck does show up—that’s the part I can control.
Everything happens for a reason, a season, or a lifetime. That’s the mantra I keep circling back to. But here’s the harder truth: working hard doesn’t always guarantee momentum. Sometimes it feels like running on a treadmill—you’re sweating, you’re moving, but you’re not going anywhere.
So the question becomes: do I keep running, trusting that persistence will pay off? Or do I step off, catch my breath, and redefine what success looks like right now?
But how do you actually know what’s right? Can I want more and still protect my time with my kids? Can ambition and balance exist together, or do they always compete? Sometimes the devil you know—staying where it’s safe, steady, and predictable—feels easier than taking on the devil you don’t. Yet, part of me feels restless. Ready for something new. Or maybe just… different.
That’s the tricky middle: being content but still craving growth. Knowing what you have is good but wondering if it could be better. Wanting stability and progress in equal measure.
Maybe the answer isn’t black and white. Maybe it’s giving myself permission to hold both truths—that I can be grateful for where I am, and still be hungry for more. That I can love my time with my kids, and also imagine a bigger version of myself in my career.
Maybe the real leadership move isn’t chasing the next title. Maybe it’s leading myself—being honest about what I want, what I’m willing to sacrifice, and what truly matters in this season of my life.
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