A year ago, I couldn’t make myself walk into a flower shop.
Not because of the flowers. Because of what I’d have to say once I got inside.
I’d recently stepped away from full time medicine to start something of my own, and every time I told someone that out loud, I felt like I had to explain myself. Like they were judging me, and judging me hard.
So when I decided to throw a podcast launch party, and I needed to walk around my neighborhood asking vendors for discounts as a new business owner, I put off the florist for two weeks straight.
What finally got me through that door, and what showed up again a year later in a hospital meeting room with a lot more on the line, is the same thing.
What Actually Got Me Through the Door
I finally walked into that flower shop on a random weekday afternoon, mostly because I’d run out of time to keep avoiding it.
I told the florist I’d started a business, and then before I could lose my nerve, I asked for what I actually wanted. Flowers in my brand colors, at a price my new business could afford. She said yes. So much more simply than the dialogue I had played out in my head.
A few weeks later, on the day of the party, she showed up herself to deliver them.
That’s the part I almost skip when I tell this story. Not just that I asked. That asking turned into something more. A fraction of the going rate, and a friend who still does my flowers today.
The Fear Wasn’t About Flowers
That fear wasn’t really about flowers. It was the same fear I’ve felt walking into every hard conversation of my career, whether that’s negotiating for my business or speaking up in a room full of people who outrank me.
For me, that fear lives in a specific place. I can point to it.
And the only way I’ve found to move through it isn’t to wait for it to go away.
It’s to notice exactly where it is, and then imagine myself stepping right over it.
It shows up again every time I try something new. What changes is how quickly I recognize it for what it is, and how fast I can get to the other side of it, where there’s actually something waiting for me. Flowers in the right colors. A stronger network. A department that finally gets seen.
The Smallest Department in the Room
I’ve recognized this same fear in other scenarios with a lot more at stake.
As a pediatrician working inside an adult hospital, my department was one of the smallest in the building, and pediatrics tends to be the most overlooked specialty in a health system built around adult care.
With my promotion to chief came a new meeting on my calendar: physician chiefs, every department head in the hospital, sitting around the same table.
In my first few meetings, I mostly listened. I was tracking who had influence, where chiefs actually got to weigh in, and where I fit into a room built for departments five times my size. I had real challenges to raise, specific to my department’s patient admissions and transfers.
But my inner dialogue got loud.
Was my problem even relevant to the rest of this group? Was it big enough to matter? What would these people think of me as a leader if I brought it up and it landed flat?
So I said nothing. I walked out of more than one of those meetings having made an excuse to myself about timing. What was going on was simpler. I was afraid.
At some point I realized that if I wanted my department to grow and improve the way I knew it could, I needed to actually be part of that leadership table, not just occupy a chair at it.
So I made myself a rule. I would speak on at least one thing at every single meeting, even if it was just a thirty-second story about my department during the caring moments we opened with.
How to Step Over Fear in Real Time
That one rule is the whole practice, if you want to try it yourself.
First, notice the fear as its own thing, separate from whatever meeting or conversation triggered it. Don’t argue with it or try to talk yourself out of it. Just locate it.
Second, ask yourself what the smallest visible action would be. Not the whole speech you’re afraid to give. One sentence. One story. One question you already know matters.
Third, commit to that one action before the meeting starts, not in the moment, when your nervous system will talk you out of it every time. I didn’t decide to speak up in that room while I was sitting in it. I decided in the hallway beforehand, every time, until it stopped requiring a decision at all.
It didn’t come naturally to me. Some days it still doesn’t. But with enough repetition, my department became more visible in that hospital, and I built a stronger network with departments that had nothing in common with pediatrics on paper.
Next Steps for Women Physician Leaders Ready to Speak Up
If there’s a version of you that’s been sitting quiet in a meeting, or putting off a conversation you’ve rehearsed a hundred times in your head, try naming the fear before you try to talk yourself out of it.
Then choose the smallest true thing you could say, and commit to saying it before you’re in the room.
If you want help figuring out what that smallest true thing is, and building the practice of saying it, that’s a lot of what I do with clients one on one. You can find out more at womenmdleaders.com/work-with-stephanie.
One year into this podcast, this is what keeps proving itself true.
There’s so much more to each of us than the MD on the wall.
And every time I’ve let a fuller version of myself into a room, whether that’s a flower shop or a chief’s meeting, it’s made me a better leader.
Thanks for listening, and thanks for leading with heart.