Shannon Talbot

Transcript

I never thought I would fall in love in prison. Not to a prisoner, and no, I'm not one of those women who writes love letters to men behind bars. Although, if you like it, I don't judge. But I somehow fell in love with a group of male prisoners in a medium- security facility. After reading my book, “Breaking Free, ” their correctional officer contacted me and asked if I would be a mentor in a program she was running for a group of men, helping them build better relationships with women.

I was confused. My book had nothing to do with prison. It's not even about relationships, and I'm a corporate leadership coach. Hmm. Me, a mentor for prison? Besides, to be honest, ever since I watched "Prisoners," they've scared me. But curiosity won out, and during the call to find out more, seven people appeared on my screen. Three of them were wearing identical light blue shirts. That's when I realized they were prisoners. I got bored. But then they smiled. They greeted me warmly, thanked me for coming, and within 5 minutes I raised my hand, saying, "Sign me up."

I've never been so happy about being so wrong. These men were not the cruel, narrow-minded people I saw in the movies. They were honest, open, and eager for change. One man described how he finally broke the cycle of violence he had lived by his whole life, which included refusing to be assigned to stab another prisoner. Another shared that he is undergoing therapy, working on rebuilding his relationship with his daughter. For these men, many of whom came from gangs where showing fear was a death sentence, these were extremely vulnerable acts.

And suddenly, I was able to understand them a little. Because for years I avoided vulnerability, especially in my 17 years of corporate experience, where you can never show fear. I thought that if I showed my difficulties, I would be held back. I wo n't be trusted with big projects. My teams didn't know that I had almost paralyzing anxiety, that I would swallow half a Gravol pill before important presentations, and that when I ran to the bathroom, it was only because I was nauseous.

But in 2021, I hit a wall. I'm tired of everyone talking about mental health without talking about their own struggles. So I decided it was time to tell my story—my own vulnerable act. And, as is usually the case when sharing something very personal and scary, I posted it on LinkedIn. Immediately after pressing the " publish" button, I panicked and rushed to my husband, tears in my eyes, regretting my decision. I was afraid that people would call me an attention seeker. Then I realized I hadn't told my damn boss.

I rushed back to the computer, wrote a letter to her and management, and prepared myself for the consequences. But something truly incredible happened. One of the top executives at my company answered everyone by talking about his own mental health issues. My eyes filled with tears, and a weight fell from my shoulders. At that moment, I realized that I felt closer to him and to the company than ever before. Vulnerability is not weakness. This is a bridge, a bridge to a sense of freedom.

Because when we hide our difficulties, when we hide parts of ourselves, we are wearing a mask. And we send a signal to our teams and our environment that they too should wear masks, that we should all pretend to be normal. And, frankly, it's exhausting. So, for me, the opportunity to be authentic, with all of my strengths and weaknesses —that's freedom. And that's what I see in that prison every week. These men lost their physical freedom, some for life, but they found a new kind of freedom.

The one that comes through the power of vulnerability. They are coming. They share their stories. They find a connection. They talk about their trials. And it's liberating. And I would really like you all to do that. If you shared one of your challenges this week, big or small, you could help someone feel less alone. Because the risk of being vulnerable is not as great as you think. And the reward is literally life-changing. Thank you.

Transcript generated from the recording and lightly cleaned. Some names and wording may differ from the spoken speech.