The Scarcity Trap

One of my favorite techniques as a communication coach was given to me (albeit indirectly) by my daughter when she was barely 2 months old.

It was 2006, I had just had Stella, and was back to work with almost no childcare whatsoever. I was a train wreck. My identity was wobbly, none of the time management techniques that had worked for me in the past made any sense, and I was chronically exhausted from trying to front like I had it all under control. One night, in a state of desperation, I went online to seek out information on mindfulness, positive thinking, coping techniques for overwhelm… anything to get me through the next 24 hours.

I came across one piece of advice that made me furious:

Tell yourself a story of abundance... No matter what your schedule says, repeat this phrase to yourself:

‘I have plenty of time, and all is well.'

I wanted to punch that writer in the neck.

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The Life-Changing Magic of Encouragement

I remember the moment very well.

It was sometime around 1999 or 2000, and I had recently announced my decision to leave my job at Blanc & Otus for the greener pastures of Scient. Word had made its way around B&O that I was moving on, and when I saw our CEO, Jonelle Birney, approaching me in the hallway, I assumed she’d heard the news as well.

As she got closer to me, a pit opened up in my stomach. How would she react? Would she be angry at me for abandoning my clients and the few folks who reported to me at the time? Was I even a blip on her radar screen? I mean, jeeze, maybe she didn’t even know how to pronounce my name!

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“Why do I always do this to myself??”


If my thoughts were audible, you’d hear this message with steady frequency.


This thought is always accompanied by a set of physical sensations: butterflies in the stomach, a dry throat, and my heart beating fast and hard.


It’s the thought that crashes through my mind just before I do something that scares me: like standing in front of a microphone, either to teach or to sing.

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Best Reads of 2016

My Favorite Reads of 2016

It’s that time of year, friends… it time to take stock of the year, and report back on what we read that was worth reading.

Normally, my list is dominated by fiction. But this year? Of my 10 favorite reads only ONE is fiction. It’s not that I didn’t read fiction, I did. I read plenty. But only one of them passed the “OH MY GOD… you HAVE to read this book…” test.

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Ah friends. We come to it at last…

the final installment of Manterruptions, Mansplaining & Bropropriations.

To the men who have followed this series… two words:


It takes a lot of courage to go into the belly of the gender imbalance beast in our culture. It takes even more courage to take on the perspective of someone else, and these pieces were definitely written from a woman’s perspective for a female audience. So I honor you and thank you.

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Brownwyn SaglimbeniComment
Manterruptions & Misadventures : Part I

Thanks to this delightful election cycle (and by "delightful" I mean "vile"), I’ve been hearing the words “manterruption" and "mansplaining” every five minutes. In the next few installments, I’ll be offering some techniques and tools for women on the receiving end of these behaviors. And to our male allies, read on! The more you know, the more progress we can make together.
Let's start with manterrupting, shall we?

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My Inner Ice Queen

By 5:00 p.m. last Wednesday, I was completely drained and exhausted.

And no wonder, it had been an incredibly productive day: I started a blog post and had a fantastic coaching session with a brand new clientI got closer to closing two new accounts and sent out my first-ever piece of email marketing. In between clients and hours on the computer, I ran all manner of suburban mother errands.
I should have mentally high-fived myself (see “If They Only Knew…”), but the voice inside my head—the one I refer to as my Inner Ice Queen—berated me instead.
She said:
“You are so pathetic. You had a normal work day, and look at you. You want a NAP? Are you nuts? You have three kids, homework, and dinner to cook next. Get your sh*t together. Keep moving. Pour a glass of wine. Have another cup of coffee. Do something. But for God’s sake, have some self-respect and don’t lie down.”

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Hair(Shirt) Day

For anyone with daughters, I do believe we need to rename “School Picture Day” to “Hair Day.” Hair Day at my house has been a nightmare since preschool.

But something amazing happened yesterday. A seed I have been cultivating for years around authenticity and realness finally blossomed.

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“Just Be Yourself”: Worst Advice Ever?

In Sunday’s New York Times, Adam Grant contributed a great article entitled,Unless You’re Oprah, ‘Be Yourself’ Is Terrible Advice.” In it, he took aim at a concept that has become quite fashionable as of late: Authenticity.

Grant describes the danger of being “authentic” at all times, and how it can lead to blurting out all manner of inappropriate things to people, and how your life will come to a screeching halt if you let authenticity have free reign over your mouth.

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Brownwyn Saglimbeni
We Teach What We Allow

We teach what we allow.

This little piece of wisdom is often repeated by my father. When I was growing up, he used it in the context of child rearing, but as I became an adult, I realized that this phrase is every bit as relevant to our interactions with grown ups as it is to parenting kids.

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Brownwyn Saglimbeni
Finding My Alleluia

The other day, my daughter wouldn’t let me play the song Good to be Alive by Andy Grammer because it had "the A word" in it. To this I said, “Dude, it does NOT say a-hole in that song..."

"MOM! I mean ‘Alleluia!” We aren't supposed to say that during Lent!!"

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How to Torpedo Your Talk: Memorize It

There are few things that scare me as a public speaking coach, but this phrase does it every time:

“Yeah, once I memorize my presentation script, I’ll be good to go.”

This is the point when my circuits get jammed, and I want to reach across the table and shake my client and warn them with language as strong as I can muster…


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My Podcasts, My Self : Top Five Must Hears

My name is Bronwyn, and I am a stimulation junkie. I am that person at the long stoplight who is engaged in a full blown white-knuckles-gripping-the-steering-wheel battle with temptation over whether or not to grab the phone and check email while I wait for the light to change. I know, I know. It’s not great.

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