Not everyone likes vulnerability.

A private message landed in my inbox earlier this week. It was polite. Thoughtful. Genuinely concerned.

The sender had only recently discovered my LinkedIn content and was worried. Not about me, but for me.

He’d noticed a pattern in my posts – I often talk about the times I’ve let clients down, missed the mark, or struggled with something I’m not naturally good at. In his words, he was “worried I might be damaging my reputation by constantly highlighting failures instead of wins.”

I get where he’s coming from. Our industry has trained us to polish our LinkedIn presence until it gleams with success, optimism, and personal branding perfection. Wins-only. No cracks in the mirror.

But here’s the thing: that mirror isn’t real.

And it’s not serving the people who need us the most.

The problem with perfect.

We’ve been conditioned to sell an image, not a service.

The client case studies with flawless outcomes. The testimonials full of superlatives. The curated photos of us keynoting a room or working on a beach with a laptop and a latte.

But here’s what really connects: The story about the product launch that flopped. The moment you admitted to a client that you’d dropped the ball. The quiet panic of not knowing how you were going to make rent next month.

We’re not afraid to hear those stories from others. But we’re terrified to tell them ourselves.

Because we think that if we admit to any failure, the entire house of cards will collapse.

What really collapses is trust, when you pretend to be perfect.

What you really build when you're honest.

The strategy behind my transparency is simple: People hire people they trust. Not avatars. Not award winners. Not buzzword-brokers.

When I write about where I’ve gone wrong, I’m not airing dirty laundry. I’m demonstrating growth, self-awareness, and a refusal to hide behind a curated façade.

It’s a long game.

And like most long games, it filters out the surface-level interactions and brings in people who value substance.

My most engaged clients aren’t the ones who found me from a viral post. They’re the ones who said, “I saw what you wrote about losing that big proposal. That resonated with me.”

So why do we hide the hard parts?

Fear. Mostly.

Fear that we’ll look unprofessional. Fear that we’ll scare away leads. Fear that our competitors will use our openness against us.

And sure, some people will scroll past or decide we’re “too real.” But they were never going to stick around for the uncomfortable stuff anyway.

And the uncomfortable stuff? That’s the most human part of what we do.

As consultants, solopreneurs, creatives, coaches – we are the product. And people don’t buy products they don’t trust.

We’ve seen what constant positivity breeds. It’s called burnout. We’ve seen what curated perfection looks like. It’s called imposter syndrome.

So no, I’m not going to stop talking about failure.

Because it’s not failure if it made you better.