What would you write?

In this episode, I share what happened when I led an identity exercise at work — and surprised myself by what I wrote. It made the room go still. And in that stillness, I paused too. This is a story about invisible identities, quiet loss, and the unexpected power of naming what we usually keep hidden. Sometimes, the softest truth changes the entire room — and leaves you seeing yourself differently.

🎙️ This Made Me Pause is written and hosted by Prerna Goel – fintech leader, artist, and hiker in progress.
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Transcript

We all wear badges, even when no one else can see them.

Some are handed to us — daughter, colleague, immigrant, manager.

Others we choose. Some we outgrow. Some… we never name, but carry anyway.

Recently, I was leading a session at work — one of those internal talks where we try to go beyond job titles and connect, person to person.
 This time, I wasn’t just part of it — I was facilitating. Which means: you go first. You set the tone.

We started with a simple identity exercise.

Everyone got a sheet of little round stickers — like name badges, but for the bits that make you, you.
Some were pre-printed:
Immigrant. Youngest child. Dog person. Manager. Caregiver.

And then a few blank ones — with a prompt:
 What else do you carry that shapes who you are?

I looked at my sheet, took a breath, and went through the usual suspects:
 Asian. Immigrant. Youngest child. Fintech-er.

The easy ones. The visible ones. The kind that don’t feel risky to name.

And then… I picked up one of the blank stickers.

The one I’d been circling for days, unsure whether I’d actually say it aloud.

I held it up.

“I thought about this one for a while,” I said. “And I wrote: Grieving.”

The room went quiet.

Not awkward. Just… still.
Like something sacred had entered the space. Or maybe — something honest.

And in that stillness… I paused too.

Because I realised: I wasn’t just naming grief.
I was claiming it.
As part of who I am.

Not something to get over. Not something to neatly process and pack away.
Just… a part of the map now.

I said, “We lost our dog recently. He wasn’t just a pet. He was our first baby. We don’t have children — and he made us a family. He shaped how we lived. When we got up. How we loved. He made us softer.”

I didn’t expect to say all of that in a room full of colleagues.
But in that moment, it felt necessary.
Not just for me, but for anyone else carrying something invisible.

Because grief is usually tucked away. It’s not something you introduce yourself with.
But the truth is — it reshapes you. Quietly. Permanently.

It changes your mornings. Your voice. Your habits. Your sense of home.

And still — I show up. I take meetings. I laugh. I plan.
But underneath it all, there’s a new layer now.
A quiet one. A little fragile. But real.

What happened next caught me off guard.

People nodded. One person added Grieving to their own blank badge.
Another wrote: Widowed.
Someone else just wrote: Still healing.

No one explained. No one needed to.

Something softened in the room.
 Like we’d all been holding our breath — and now, finally, we didn’t have to.

We talk a lot about bringing our whole selves to work.
But we rarely make room for the whole self.
Especially the tender parts.
The losses with no rituals.
The love that didn’t get to grow old.

That day reminded me:
Sometimes, leadership isn’t about being polished or prepared.
It’s about being honest.

So yes — I’m Indian. I work in fintech. I’m an immigrant. A youngest child.

And I’m also grieving.

That’s not a moment I’m trying to move past.
It’s part of who I am now.
And I’ve decided — it’s a badge worth wearing.

We all carry things no one can see.

If someone handed you a blank sticker right now…
What would you write?

This was This Made Me Pause.
If this episode gave you a moment of reflection — share it.
Or maybe just ask someone you trust:
What are you carrying that no one else sees?

I’ll see you next time.