The Moments Between the Mess
How an eleven-minute car ride taught me that good intentions don't erase the impact of our behavior.
There is nothing quite like a teenage daughter to give you feedback you didn't ask for, weren't prepared for, and probably needed to hear.
I learned that during an eleven-minute drive to school.
What started as an ordinary car ride turned into a conversation I wasn't expecting. My daughters began telling me how they saw me. I didn't always listen. I wanted things done my way. Sometimes, instead of having a conversation, I raised my voice. And perhaps the hardest part to hear was that I wasn't always modeling the behavior I expected from them.
Ouch.
My first instinct was to explain myself. I had reasons. I had good intentions. I was trying to raise responsible, respectful young women while balancing work, family, and everything else life throws at you.
But sitting there, listening to them, I realized something important: my intentions did not erase the impact of my behavior.
That moment stayed with me because it challenged the way I saw myself. I wanted my daughters to listen, take accountability, and communicate respectfully. But was I consistently showing them what that looked like?
It was an uncomfortable question, and an important one.
Learning to Listen Before I Fix
As a mother of four daughters, I have learned that love alone doesn't guarantee that someone feels heard. You can love someone deeply and still get it wrong. You can have the best intentions and still need to change how you show up.
That lesson has followed me into my professional life.
In customer success, relationships are at the center of everything I do. I work with customers who have different personalities, expectations, frustrations, and business priorities. Sometimes a conversation is easy. Other times, someone pushes back, questions a decision, or expresses disappointment in a way that makes it tempting to jump in and explain.
I have learned that one of the most important things I can do in those moments is pause.
Listen before I fix. Understand before I respond. Take accountability when it is mine to take.
It sounds simple, but it isn't always easy. When someone is frustrated, our natural instinct can be to defend ourselves or immediately offer a solution. But people don't always need us to have an answer in the first thirty seconds. Sometimes, they need to know that we understand why the issue matters to them.
That is where trust begins.
Accountability Is More Than Saying Sorry
My daughters have taught me that being the adult doesn't mean being right all the time. It means being willing to own your part, even when the situation is complicated and the other person has a part to own, too.
The same is true at work.
I believe accountability is one of the most important qualities a leader can have. It means taking ownership of your actions, being honest when something hasn't gone as planned, and focusing on what can be done next instead of spending all your energy defending what happened.
It also means understanding that trust is built through consistency. People pay attention to how you respond when things get uncomfortable. Do you listen? Do you follow through? Can you admit when you got something wrong?
Those moments often say more about leadership than the easy wins ever will.
I am still learning this at home and at work. I don't always get it right. But I try to remember that the goal isn't to win every conversation. It is to build a relationship strong enough to work through the difficult ones.
The Moments Between the Mess
I wrote Moments Between the Mess: The Truth About Raising Teenage Daughters because I wanted to be honest about motherhood. Not the polished version where everyone learns the lesson, hugs it out, and moves on. The real version, where emotions run high, words land harder than intended, and sometimes the smallest moments become the ones you remember most.
My daughters have taught me that growth often happens in the moments we would rather avoid. The uncomfortable feedback. The apology. The conversation where we choose to listen instead of defend ourselves.
Those lessons have shaped the kind of mother, colleague, and leader I want to be.
I still have plenty to learn. I still have moments when my first instinct is to explain instead of listen. But now I try to ask myself a different question:
Am I focused on being right, or am I focused on understanding?
That question has changed the way I approach difficult conversations.
Whether I am sitting in a car with one of my daughters or working through a challenging situation with a customer, the lesson is much the same. Relationships require humility. Trust requires follow-through. And leadership starts with being willing to look at yourself honestly.
Sometimes, the most meaningful growth doesn't happen when everything is going well.
It happens in the mess, in the moments when we are challenged to do better and decide whether we are willing to try. And sometimes, all it takes is an eleven-minute drive to remind you.