Learning from the Growing Pains

If you've been following along for a while, you probably know that this season of my life has been defined by growth. And not the glamorous kind that looks good on social media. The kind of growth that stretches you, humbles you, forces you to have difficult conversations, and asks you to become a different version of yourself if you want to keep building.

As the firm has grown over the past few months, so have the responsibilities that come with it. More clients. More contractors. More hires. Bigger opportunities. More people depending on me to lead well. 

On paper, that's exactly what I prayed for. In reality, though, every new level asks something different of you.

This week, that lesson showed up in the form of feedback.

Not one conversation. Not one difficult moment. Multiple conversations, across different people and completely different contexts, all pointing toward the same thing: there was room for me to grow. 

Personally. Professionally. As a leader. As a business owner.

I'd be lying if I said it was easy to hear.

One of the strange realities of entrepreneurship is that people assume founders answer to no one. We don't have bosses looking over our shoulders or annual performance reviews waiting on our calendars. But the accountability has to come from somewhere else. 

It has to come from us. And if we're being honest, self-accountability is often much harder than external accountability because no one is forcing us to ask the uncomfortable questions.

But I've learned that if you truly want to build something that lasts, you have to intentionally create spaces where people feel safe telling you the truth. Otherwise, you'll only ever hear your own perspective.

Now what happens after you create that space and invite the critique?

The irony is that we're constantly checking in with everyone else. We have client calls, team meetings, quick touch bases, project updates, Slack messages, and endless conversations throughout the week. Yet somewhere along the way, many of us stop actually listening. We hear feedback without absorbing it. We nod without reflecting. We say we appreciate constructive criticism, but we rarely give ourselves the time to sit with it long enough to decide what it's trying to teach us.

That's why I think this time of year is so valuable.

Mid-year reviews shouldn't just be for team members, revenue goals, quarterly reports, or performance metrics. They should be for us. The way we communicate. The way we lead. The way we respond when things don't go according to plan. The habits we've developed without realizing it. The blind spots we can't see on our own.

One piece of feedback can be easy to explain away. Two feels coincidental. But when similar themes start showing up from multiple people in multiple situations, that's usually a pattern. And patterns deserve our attention.

The older I get and the more responsibility I carry, the less interested I am in protecting my ego and the more interested I am in becoming someone people trust. Someone people feel safe with (more in personal life). 

That means accepting that my intentions won't always match my impact. It means recognizing that I won't always communicate as clearly as I think I do. It means admitting that I will make mistakes, apologize for them, and become better because of them.

I've also realized that the people willing to give you honest feedback are often some of the greatest gifts you'll receive in business and in life. 

Most people won't tell you where you fell short. They'll quietly lower their expectations, disengage, or simply walk away. The people who care enough to tell you the truth are investing in your growth, even when it's uncomfortable for both of you.

Growth isn't always exciting. Sometimes it looks like swallowing your pride, asking follow-up questions instead of defending yourself, revisiting systems you thought were working, or admitting you got something wrong. It's uncomfortable because it asks us to let go of the version of ourselves that got us here so we can become the person capable of carrying what's next.

So before jumping into the second half of the year, I wanted to pause and reflect on a few lessons this week reminded me of. Maybe one of them is exactly what you need to hear, too.

My Monthly Must Read

This month’s must-read is Yesteryear and I have a feeling this one is going to spark some interesting conversations.

I just started reading it (really listening on Audible), but what immediately caught my attention was the way it explores the gap between the lives we perform online and the realities behind those performances.

The novel follows Natalie, a successful internet influencer who has built a platform around a romanticized version of traditional domestic life aka “trad-wife” culture. She sells a polished, curated vision of what that lifestyle looks like until she mysteriously wakes up in 1855 pioneer life and is forced to confront the reality behind the aesthetic she has been promoting.

What makes this story so fascinating is that it challenges the idea that anything we see online is the full picture. In the creator economy, we talk so much about authenticity, personal brands, and storytelling, but there is also a responsibility that comes with turning a lifestyle into content. There is a difference between sharing an interest or value system and selling an idealized version of something without acknowledging the complexity behind it.

I think that's why this book stood out to me. It isn't just a commentary on one specific online movement, it’s a larger conversation about the stories we tell ourselves about the identities we build and what happens when we are forced to confront the reality behind the image.

As someone who works with creators every day, I'm constantly thinking about the intersection of influence, storytelling, and responsibility. The internet allows us to build communities around our experiences, but it also gives us the ability to carefully edit what people see. The most compelling creators aren't the ones who present a perfect life. They're the ones who understand that honesty and nuance are what create real connection.

I'm only a few chapters in, but I already know this is going to be one of those books that makes me stop and think. If you're interested in social media, culture, identity, or the way we present ourselves to the world, this one is worth adding to your list.

For more on this topic and what I’ve been mulling over lately, check out Natalie Ellis’ substack too. Ironically different Natalie but a lot of the same ideas of scrupulosity and the “insecure overachiever” archetype.  

Quote of the Month

Visibility Requires Boundaries

One of the hardest parts of being a lawyer who creates content is knowing what I can't say.

It's an interesting tension to navigate because my job is built on trust. My clients come to me with their biggest opportunities, their biggest concerns, and sometimes the most sensitive parts of their businesses. There are conversations that happen behind closed doors that will never make it onto a podcast, a social media post, or a newsletter and that's exactly how it should be.

Confidentiality isn't a limitation of my work. It's the foundation of it.

But at the same time, I built my platform because I believe in showing people what's possible. Especially female founders and creators who are building businesses without a traditional roadmap. I want people to see the rooms that exist, the opportunities that are available, and what can happen when you have the right support and legal foundation behind you.

So I constantly walk this line: being transparent enough to be relatable, while being discreet enough to be trustworthy.

And honestly? I think that tension is part of what makes the brand what it is.

There's a misconception that building a personal brand means sharing everything. That the more access people have to your life, the more connected they will feel. But I've learned that real trust isn't built by having no boundaries. 

It's built by showing people that you know where the boundaries are.

The strongest brands aren't built on complete access, they're built on credibility. They're built on consistency, values, and knowing what parts of your story are yours to share and what parts belong to the people who trusted you with them.

In a world where everyone is encouraged to document everything, there is still power in protecting something. Not every win needs a screenshot. Not every opportunity needs an announcement. Not every story is yours to tell.

Sometimes the most valuable thing you can communicate is the confidence that you can be trusted with what matters most.

Outro

If there’s one thing this season of growth has reminded me, it’s that building something meaningful requires a willingness to constantly become a better version of yourself.

The uncomfortable conversations, the moments where you realize you could have communicated better, the feedback that forces you to look at yourself differently. Those moments are not signs that you’re failing. They’re signs that you’re building something big enough to challenge you.

Ah whew, those challenges are scary but they’re also empowering and a privilege in and of themselves. It means look at what I’ve built and thank you for allowing me to recognize when it’s time to evolve. Not everyone can do that. 

Whether it’s leading a team, serving clients, building a personal brand, or simply navigating life, growth requires both ambition and humility. It requires knowing when to step forward, when to listen, and when to recognize that protecting your ego is never more important than becoming better.

I think we often celebrate the visible parts of success, the milestones, the opportunities, the big announcements, but we don’t talk enough about the quiet work happening behind the scenes.

Self-reflection. The course corrections. The moments where no one is watching, but you’re choosing to show up differently anyway. The holding space for ourselves, most importantly. 

I’m still working on that one. Giving myself grace too.  

As we move into the second half of the year, I hope you take some time to reflect on what’s working, what needs to change, and what lessons this season is trying to teach you.

The next level always requires something new from us. The question is whether we’re willing to listen.

Here’s to continuing to grow, evolve, and build lives and businesses we’re proud of.

Keep Up With Kayla and Kayla Moran Law

Let’s make July a month of purpose, passion, and productivity.

Thanks for reading!

Talk soon,

Kayla