When I approach leadership, and life, with a full heart, I approach it with a commitment to bringing my whole self to every interaction and every situation. This is my authentic core that I am showing you and I am sharing with you who I am, what I believe and even, often, what I feel.

Inherent in that is an element of vulnerability. There is a safety in presenting the facade that comes with our roles and responsibility, we can play the part and keep our more fragile self tucked safely away. But when we discard or refuse the facade, along with the ability to have a greater impact, we also expose ourselves in ways that we hope will be safe.

That willingness to put ourselves forward, to be vulnerable in that way, is, I think, neither universal nor blind. It is predicated on our willingness to trust and to believe that we can trust. Of course, trust is rarely instant and it is not without judgment or instincts. And, even then, our judgment and instincts may be, on occasion, misled. Or we may find ourselves in situations in which we, regardless of our efforts to do and be our best, feel attacked or hurt or betrayed.

I’ve been in a situation recently, trying to carry out a responsibility I neither accepted nor wanted but, for various reasons, now own. My desire has been, and continues to be, to do what I believe is the right thing. It’s not without challenges too numerous to name and it’s not without the complexity of highly charged emotions on the part of some others who are and must be, for good or ill, involved.

There have been accusations and behaviors and words that wound me, that haunt me, that fly in the face of everything I have tried to do and everything I believe. It has been tempting to confront the untruths and try and set the record straight. It has been tempting to let my justified righteous indignation drive my behavior. Attack? Counter attack of course.

Upon reflection, I have come to realize that my approach to this situation, and to life and leadership, will not change. I could consider being “tougher” and more aggressive. I could. But that is not who I am and, more importantly, it is not how I choose to live my life.

My choice is not to pretend that this is not happening. I am not closing my eyes to it. But I am choosing to rise above. I am choosing to know what I know and to be steadfast in who I am. Is it the right choice? Yes. It is the easy choice? No. But I approach that choice, and I live with that choice, with my full heart.