I should come with a warning label. Something along the lines of, “Appears nice . . . but can be quite prickly.”

When I first meet people, I come across as polite and charming, even concerned. I’m a good listener. As everyone sizes each other up, it’s natural. At just over five feet tall and a moon-shaped face, I am the furthest thing from intimidating. I am also relatively quiet early in my relationships, especially in a professional context. I tend to ask a lot of questions in the beginning rather than offer up a lot of opinions. This gives me time to assess the “lay of the land,” but it can be misleading as I present myself in a way that is different from how I tend to interact with people I know on a day-to-day basis. My last manager once said, “Courtney, people underestimate you at their peril.” I wasn’t exactly sure how she meant it, and I felt a little exposed by her comment, but she was not wrong. Sometimes this dichotomy helps me—kind of like, “See the hill, take the hill!” Other times, it can wreak havoc and hurt people if I am coming in a little too hot after our introduction.

My first words were “Good girl.” According to the story, I smiled a big smile, clapped my baby hands together, and yelled, “Good girl!” becoming quite proud of myself. I must have heard those words more than a few times. It’s beautiful to know how praised I was. But the label also marked me, following me for as long as I can remember. For many of us, (especially church-going, Bible-belt-living folk) being a good girl was programmed in at a very young age.

The good girl thing can be cute and seem positive enough, but there are ways it held me back, too, and I am trying to move on from it. Here are a few reasons:

I thought being nice would get me places. The truth is that hard work is the key to opening most doors.
Authenticity is what drives connection, not simply telling folks what they want to hear.
Being a good girl can get boring.

I can’t help but wonder if my, just under the surface prickliness, is some form of over-correction for my good-girl reputation. A pleading to those around me, as I scream, “Don’t put me in a box!” or “There’s more here than little ol’ me!” To be clear, I am not advocating for snarkiness, and certainly not disrespect. Courtesy and genuine expressions of care matter. Where it gets sticky is when it accompanies an abandonment of self or appeasing someone to gain their approval.

I love the Thomas Lloyd Qualls quote; “The moon casts a different face everyday. Yet the moon is always the moon. It is always whole. Always reflective.” This resonates so deeply. Illustrating that we are all, all the things. Believing you are good is like believing in the half moon. Believing you are bad is like believing in the half moon, yet the whole moon is there all the time.

Epiphany: There is only one, multifaceted you. Embrace all of her.