Your Career Doesn't Have to Be a Solo Journey: The Unbeatable Power of a Mentor.
Sheryl Sandberg, the author of Lean In, talks about how we shouldn’t feel shame for bringing our emotions to work. At first, I thought she meant sadness or disappointment — the quiet, composed kind. But she actually meant the kind of emotions that end in tears. Reading that was so freeing for me.
I’ve cried at work more times than I can count. In my first job, my friend and I even had a “peace corner” — our little sanctuary for when feedback hit too hard and we needed to comfort each other.
Back then, crying felt like weakness, like proof that I wasn’t cut out for the “real world.” I remember being told, “This isn’t university or high school where we nurse people’s emotions.” So, for years, I cried in secret — in the parking lot, in the bathroom — anywhere no one could see me.
Until one day, I cried on a Teams call. Camera on. Tears, snot, and all. Embarrassing, right? Except this time… my cry for help actually got me a mentor.
What That Moment Taught Me About Mentorship
That Teams call changed something in me. I had spent years trying to hold it together — showing up with a calm face, saying “I’m fine,” and pushing through. But that day, I couldn’t. I was exhausted, overwhelmed, and unsure of myself. I wasn’t looking for sympathy; I just couldn’t pretend anymore.
My then manager was so kind. She said, “I’ve been where you are. Let’s talk.” Then she introduced me to someone. Who became my mentor — not because she had all the answers, but because she listened. She didn’t rush to fix me. She asked questions that made me think differently. She reminded me that growth doesn’t mean never breaking down — it means learning how to rebuild after you do.
That’s when I learned that mentorship isn’t just about career advice or networking. It’s about connection. It’s about someone holding a mirror up to you and saying, “You’re still capable, even when you don’t feel like it.” If they kept showing up after all these years even when things were challenging, I can too.
What to Look for in a Mentor (and What Mentorship Is Not)
When I first thought of mentorship, I imagined someone senior, polished, and always confident — the type who could map out my five-year plan in one coffee chat. But I’ve learned that mentorship is less about position and more about posture.
A good mentor doesn’t just tell you what to do; they create space for you to figure it out. They challenge your assumptions with compassion. They share their experiences — including the messy parts — so you can see what’s possible beyond your own fears.
Mentorship is not about someone fixing you or giving you all the answers. It’s not about dependence either. The best mentors don’t make you small; they make you curious. They see your potential, even when you’re too deep in self-doubt to see it yourself.
How to Ask for Mentorship (Without Feeling Like a Burden).
Asking for mentorship can feel awkward. You might think, “Who am I to ask? They’re too busy.” But here’s what I’ve realized — most people want to help. They just need to know how.
Start small. You don’t have to say, “Will you be my mentor?” You can simply say, “I really admire how you handled that situation — could I learn from your approach?” or “I’m navigating something similar, would you be open to sharing some advice?”
Mentorship often begins with one honest conversation. When you lead with authenticity — not perfection — people respond. They see your willingness to learn, and that opens doors that trying to appear “put-together” never could.
Healing Through Mentorship: When Honesty Builds Real Growth
The biggest surprise for me was how mentorship became part of my healing. It wasn’t just about getting ahead at work — it was about feeling seen in spaces that often reward hiding.
My mentor helped me see that strength and softness can coexist. That you can be ambitious and sensitive. That your emotions aren’t unprofessional — they’re part of what makes you human and empathetic, the kind of leader people remember
Through her, I learned that mentorship is a mirror, not a mask. It reflects who you are becoming, not who you think you should be. And sometimes, that reflection begins with tears — the kind that remind you you’re still growing.
Here's the other truth:
If I could go back to that Teams call, I wouldn’t change a thing. The tears that once felt like weakness were actually an opening — a moment that allowed someone to see me beyond my job title, beyond my mistakes, beyond the façade of having it all together.
Mentorship, at its heart, is about being seen. It’s about someone witnessing your becoming — the parts that are still forming, uncertain, and brave all at once. And in that reflection, you begin to see yourself differently too.
So, if you’re in that season where you’re unsure, overwhelmed, or quietly crying in a bathroom stall (I’ve been there), maybe it’s time to let someone in. Your next mentor might not arrive with a title or a program — they might just be the person who sees you in your honest moment and says, “I’ve been there. Let’s talk.”
Because sometimes, mentorship doesn’t start with confidence.
It starts with courage — the courage to be seen.