I used to think my contradictions made me fake. Turns out, they make me whole
…a story about how Leslie Knope helped me feel seen.
A four to five-minute read.
Authenticity is a big word these days, and so is its foil, fake. Our society is so quick to put us into boxes of conformity that can make us feel one-dimensional. People are eager to categorize others, so when our dynamic, multifaceted selves emerge, it can be puzzling to those who feel safe in tidy little roles in life. In core values exercises, authenticity consistently emerges as one of my central values, and sometimes it feels like a fight just to be me, with all my parts.
Erin says I have a Coldwell Banker Jen. (That’s the real estate brand I was with for 20 years.) She calls me sometimes for sniper-like advice. This version of me has negotiated land transactions for multi-billion-dollar companies; she has run her billion-dollar company, too. She means business. CB Jen drank with the boys and has been called to contribute to industry think tanks. This is the Jen who supported three babies in a 2008 recession with a commission-based job and no child support. Coldwell Banker Jen saved my life, but she can also be abrupt. She can hurt feelings with her quick sarcasm. She can bury an opponent on a deal. I know why she exists, apologize when she misfires, and forgive myself, recognizing that a fight response may have been activated.
My friend Nico once said I had a Floating Jen. She is the one whose face lights up a room when she meets him to see a good band. Nothing is more perfect for her than enjoying live music with someone she loves. She is the one who saw Cohen with her Dad, Bon Iver with her boy, War on Drugs with Cousin Josh, Blue Rodeo with Bill, and Neil Young with Lizzy. She sings and dances, and her face hurts from smiling at the end of the night. Chances are, she’s also cried from a devastating lyric and lost her voice singing all the words.
I have taught trauma-informed yoga, breathwork and meditation for years to women in recovery from substance use. That Jen is grounded and steady. When my colleague Melissa heard my yoga voice the other day, she said: “That’s not your voice.” Yet, that is my voice when guiding a meditation or a yoga class. Sure, I bust out the occasional joke or swear, I can’t help it. Generally, though, I am calm and clear. My cadence is slower than when I teach business strategy classes. I spend an hour settling myself before I teach, because I am attempting to guide a process to co-regulate a room so that we don’t drink booze. That takes a particular kind of Jen.
I live mainly in a state of enthusiastic, almost childlike wonder. I would say that “enneagram 7,” extroverted, bubbly me, is the most common. This seems to be the me that people want to protect. When I have ambitious ideas, people will caution me to heed the “economic times.” When I see the beauty around me, I get warned against putting my head in the sand. Don’t I know the world is on fire?
People seem to think this Jen is naive, but trust me, she is well-balanced by Coldwell Banker Jen. It is the cooperation of both of these parts that helps me support business leaders.
She is my inner Leslie Knope. Leslie is Amy Poehler’s character in the sitcom Parks and Recreation. The character is a civil servant in charge of a department in the small town she loves. She comes to work with a smile and a can-do attitude. I’m sure Ted Lasso got much of his soccer strategy from Leslie. Despite numb and combative attitudes around her, I can relate to her deep desire to improve the world and apply determined effort to make it happen. She takes a lot of opposition, leans toward people she can trust, and protects her sense of wonder. She is darling, sweet, and fiercely intelligent. My inner Leslie is the strongest version of myself to lead in these times. Buddhist Teacher Joanna Macy says that we have to ground ourselves in what we love about the world to live in a state she calls active hope. And this is the state that moves people.
None of these versions of me is fake. These are genuine aspects of myself. Understanding Internal Family Systems, a concept developed by psychologist Dr. Richard Schwartz, has been transformative in recognizing that these versions of myself aren't compartmentalized personas I put on and take off like costumes. They're parts of a whole system that developed to help me navigate different aspects of life. My Coldwell Banker Jen isn't just a business facade—she's a part that developed strengths in negotiation and leadership to protect other, more vulnerable parts. My 'yoga voice Jen' isn't performing spirituality—she's accessing the calm, grounded center where all my parts can eventually turn. My perfectionist? She’s not all bad. Sometimes she can foster artistry, but she can also slow down a project if left unchecked. With discernment, I can learn how she might serve my goals. The inner critic? She’s had the microphone in my head long enough! I think she was meant to push me to sobriety. She was vicious when I was drinking, and became intolerable. When she speaks up now, I politely tell her she can calm the fuck down. IFS teaches that when we acknowledge these parts with curiosity instead of judgment, they can work in harmony rather than conflict. I've found that the more I welcome each part, even those that seem contradictory, the more resourceful and authentic I become, personally and professionally.
Now, in my fifties, I have shed propriety. If I were to describe myself now, I would say that I am the splendid sum of all my parts. And this is the basis of a new iteration: this career, this life in the woods, community leadership, and friends… they aren’t separate. They are all parts of my whole life.
I am not a therapist. If you want to connect to a great one, DM me and I can share mine. She’s unbelievable. I would suggest doing IFS work with someone trained.
There's a Jen who closes million-dollar deals and the Jen who cries at concerts. Neither is more authentic than the other. They are all…me.
Be gentle with all of your parts,
Love, Jen
If you’d like to read more about IFS, Martha Beck’s new book Beyond Anxiety is a great read. I’ve linked it in my sweet local bookstore. I suggest you buy it in yours.
I have thought really hard on how I could be most helpful to the real estate industry that I spent almost a quarter century of my life, and here it is:
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