They Should Walk Away Knowing They Mattered

There’s a moment in every project when you realize it’s actually happening.

Not in some abstract, “we’re making progress” kind of way. I mean that moment where it clicks. Where the thing you had in your head, the thing you felt in your gut, is suddenly real. Tangible. Alive.

That moment hit me this week.

Amy sent over the first full interior proof of A Survivor’s Guide to Survival, and I opened it expecting to review it.

Instead, I just sat there. Because she didn’t just lay out text on a page. She understood what this book is supposed to be.

This book is not meant to be read in a quiet coffee shop with perfect lighting and a clear head. It’s meant for someone waking up in a hospital bed, disoriented, in pain, trying to make sense of what just happened to them.

And somehow, she got that.

The spacing. The flow. The way the pages move without demanding too much from the reader.

She honored the intent.

And that matters more than anything.

Here’s the part most people miss. You don’t get work like that by accident. You get it by how you show up.

I’ve been a leader my whole life, whether I wanted to admit it or not. I was always the one people looked to. The one who stepped forward when nobody else did. The one who took charge when things got uncertain.

But I didn’t fully embrace that role until July 13, 2022. The day I walked back from death.

Something changed after that. Not in a subtle way. In a very real, very uncomfortable way.

I became aware of time. Of impact. Of legacy.

I realized that how I show up in the world matters, not just in the big moments, but in the small, everyday interactions that most people overlook.

Especially at work. Especially with the people around me.

Here’s what I believe now: If someone works with me, even for a short period of time, they should walk away from that interaction feeling like they mattered. Not because I told them they did. But because I treated them like they did.

That’s leadership. Not titles. Not authority. Not performance reviews or org charts. Leadership is how you make people feel when they walk away from you.

Amy doesn’t just “work for me.” She’s part of bringing something meaningful into the world. And she knows it. Because I tell her. Because I show her. Because I acknowledge the thought, the care, and the expertise she brings to the table.

Not at the end of the project. But throughout it. In real time.

Most people get this wrong.  They stay quiet while the work is happening. They wait until the end. They give a generic “great job” and move on.

That’s not feedback. That’s an afterthought.

And it does the work, and the person doing it, a huge disservice.

If someone is doing good work, they should know it while they’re doing it. That’s how you build momentum. That’s how you build confidence. That’s how you get people to lean in and give more of themselves to what they’re creating.

And when they do that? The work changes.

It gets better. Sharper. More intentional. More alive.

This project is proof of that. Natàlia took a rough idea for a cover and turned it into something that stopped me in my tracks. Amy took a short, blunt manuscript and turned it into something that feels usable in the exact conditions it was written for.

That doesn’t happen because I hired talented people. It happens because talented people felt seen, trusted, and respected enough to bring their full selves into the work.

That’s the standard now. For my writing. For my projects. For my team. For my life.

When people walk away from working with me, I want them to feel something. Not drained. Not managed. Not like they were just another task on someone’s list. I want them to walk away, even if they never say it out loud, thinking: “I mattered today.” Because they did.

And if I did my job right, they’ll know it.

That’s the legacy I’m building now. Not just in books. But in people.