Angie’s note: Last week I published a story on LinkedIn about my world falling apart.  Based on the overwhelming response I received, and the encouragement to share more, I’m offering this blog.  I know I’m not the only one who has been through difficult times – divorce, parent care, and chronic illness.  I thought I’d offer perspective on how to keep growing despite the challenges life presents us.  Click here to read the post.

There were moments during my past two-year trauma journey when I desperately wished I was a Kardashian. Stay with me here.

When my world was falling apart, I fantasized about the luxury of hitting pause on life. I imagined lounging in my trendy nude-colored SKIMS outfit  with tissues nearby, crying in the arms of doting family members who’d say, “Go to the spa. Take a week off – or a month! – and eat, pray, and love your way out of this.”

But that wasn’t my reality.  

I was suddenly a single parent—recently divorced, constrained assets—with zero choice but to push my feelings aside and hustle. I had to earn.  I had one child in college, another in school, and a mortgage that wouldn’t pay itself. Every single day, I had to show up and do one critical thing: manage impressions strategically.

Let me be crystal clear: this wasn’t about being inauthentic or fake, like hiding my pain behind a smile. It was about choosing when and where to grieve, and who to let into my situation. I compartmentalized ruthlessly, setting emotions aside to remain the professional  I’d spent years becoming. I take immense pride in my work, and I refused to let my personal life implosion – created by someone else and their criminal behavior – derail the career I’d built.

I’d hear from friends who were in the know – “Angie, you’re so strong.”  My internal response? “Hey, I have no choice.”  I had two critical stakeholders – my two boys – looking at me every single day taking cues from me on how to navigate a crisis without letting it derail you.

This was brand management at its most essential. 

I learned to balance contradictions without apology, choosing which version of myself to lean into at any moment. I was simultaneously happy and sad, grieving and rejoicing, emotionally confident and financially insecure due to the position my ex left me in. I understood my crisis was temporary. What remained permanent? My professional reputation and the goals, dreams, and ambitions that I was still in pursuit of.

I didn’t want to be known as the woman who brought chaos to client meetings, use my situation as an excuse for poor performance, or offer my story to people in a way to gather sympathy.  I didn’t want people to feel sorry for me, or to offer up my personal drama as reason I wasn’t able to deliver. 

Here’s my perspective on how to protect your brand when you’re going through something really intense.

1. Strategic transparency with boundaries. When the imploding began, I reflected on my key clients and wanted to share with them my situation.  They needed to hear the truth from me, directly, versus from the news media or in a gossip circle. Then I never mentioned it again unless directly asked. When asked, I remained honest but always projected stability over spiral.  I didn’t want my sh*t show to be the headline.  If I wasn’t in a room, and someone asked about me, I didn’t want anyone to say “Man, that girl’s life is out of control – I don’t think she can take on more.” 

2. Radical selectivity about my “share” audience. There are people you trust, and those you don’t.  People gossip relentlessly, and I didn’t want to become water cooler fodder. I maintained my professional, polished, energetic presence because that energy was genuine—it existed alongside my pain, not instead of it.  

3. Contextual vulnerability with purpose. I shared my story only with coaching clients/friends/family members navigating their own crises, offering hard-won solidarity. I wasn’t coaching from some perfect pedestal—I was demonstrating that professionals can work on themselves while working for others.  I’d share with them what I was learning on my journey, and would offer this insight to encourage them to keep going. 

If you’re navigating something intense right now, please know this:  your crisis is temporary. Your reputation is not. Don’t let circumstances hijack your brand. Be intentional about how and when you tell your story … and why.  What’s your motivation?  And what do you think your sharing is going to accomplish? 

And if you need deeper processing? Get professional help. I did. Therapy became where I worked through daily frustrations, fears, and grief.  Your boss, peers, and colleagues aren’t qualified therapists, no matter how sympathetic they seem. And, frankly, they might get a little tired hearing the play by play of your crisis.  

Or, and I’m really serious here, if you have Kardashian-level resources—take time off, disconnect fully, and return when you’re ready.

For the rest of us? We compartmentalize, we protect our brand, and we get the help and support we actually need.  As I learned in the Marines: pain is temporary, pride is forever.  You’ll want to be proud of how you managed everything once you’re through this tough time.