This week I gleefully announced that I was letting my Salesforce certifications lapse. I had said it before, but I didn't fully believe I'd do it.
Then I was on the phone with an old friend. We both have a long history with Salesforce and have been sounding boards for each other for years. When I told him the news, I knew I meant it this time.
My roots in that ecosystem are deep. I spent almost two decades fully immersed in the work and community I’d built. Letting those certifications lapse isn't a small thing, but at this point it doesn’t feel dramatic. It’s a strategic decision to focus on the business I’m now running.
Earlier in the week someone had reached out about a Salesforce project. I declined. It was the type of work that is squarely in my wheelhouse and the money would be good. But if I wanted the money that way, I would have kept my Salesforce consulting business open.
After celebrating the doors I was closing, we talked about everything I'm excited about: An unexpectedly viral LinkedIn post about a conversation I had with a guy on a plane, a conference I went to called Do Bold Shit, and a heck of a lot of people showing up in my world who get exactly what I'm building and are giving me more energy than I know what to do with.
And then I mentioned a potential collaboration. A blog post and a workshop. And somewhere in the middle of describing it, I realized the audience wasn't who I'm building for. It was a distraction.
I knew that needed to be my next no.
It started with one brave no that made the next one a little easier. And then the next one even easier than that.
That's the momentum of saying no.
BTW, If you’d love to figure out how to make no feel easy, I can help. Hit reply and tell me about a big no you’ve been afraid to say out loud.
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