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Hi, I’m McKay—a Fear-Slaying Executive Coach & Leadership Strategist. I work with high-performing professionals who look confident on the outside—but feel stuck, stalled, or unseen on the inside.

I help them dismantle fear-driven decision-making, reclaim their authority, and lead, negotiate, and rise with unshakable clarity.

This newsletter is where I share the kind of strategy most people pay thousands for—alongside sharp insights, bold questions, and features from peers who are building careers rooted in courage, not just credentials.

But first, a message from today’s sponsor…

The other day, I was sitting on the floor with my two-year-old.

He had two little wooden people toys and one of those mini pretend trash cans—lid and all. He kept trying to fit the people into the can and latch the lid. Pushing. Adjusting. Nudging. Trying different angles. The lid just wouldn’t close fully.

They were slightly too big.

He kept trying—quietly, stubbornly, determined to make it work.
No meltdown (shockingly). Just focus.

Eventually, I sat beside him and said:

“Sometimes we’re so fixated on making something work, we forget to ask the better question:
What if it just doesn’t fit?”

I launched into what can only be described as a leadership TED Talk for toddlers—breaking down performance, persistence, and the difference between failure and structural misalignment.

He listened. Nodded. Said “ya” with the solemn wisdom of a tiny guru.

And yes, I know how absurd it sounds—me waxing philosophical about systems design to someone who still calls blueberries “buuuuubbles.”

But here’s the thing: the lesson wasn’t really for him. It was for me.
Because grown, brilliant adults do the exact same thing.

We grind, push, and twist ourselves into strategies, roles, or dynamics that simply do. not. fit.

And when it doesn’t work?

We assume we’re the problem.

Because yes, I could have cut the toys in half to make them fit.
But then the toy loses its purpose.
It fits—but it’s broken.

That moment stayed with me.

Because so many high-performing professionals are doing exactly that in their careers.
Shrinking. Squeezing. Contorting.
Trying to fit into containers that were never built for their full power.

And they wonder why the lid won’t close.
Why it feels like they’re always slightly “too much.”
Why their brilliance isn’t landing.
Why they’re exhausted—but still feel behind.

It’s not because they’re broken.
It’s because the container is too small.
The structure no longer fits the scale of who they’ve become.

And yes—sometimes, the most strategic move is not to try harder.

It’s to stop cutting yourself down to fit the box.
And start building something worthy of holding all of you.

Talk soon,
McKay

P.S.
When I went to grab the toys just now to snap a photo, I realized something:
My kiddo had quietly found a smaller version of the wooden people—and placed those in the trash can instead.

Turns out, maybe he did hear me.
Maybe he just needed a minute to figure out a better fit.

Because sometimes the lesson doesn’t land with a “yes” or a breakthrough.

Sometimes it shows up later, in the choices we make next.