Nobody Starts on the Podium

The Commonwealth Games have been on my television all week.

Like so many Australians, I've found myself completely absorbed.

Not just by the medals.

But by the stories behind them.

Australia has been incredible.

Our swimmers have dominated once again. Cameron McEvoy reinvented his training, swimming less, becoming stronger and faster, and won the 50-metre freestyle in a quicker time than he did twelve years ago. Watching someone completely rethink their approach and still reach the top of the podium is extraordinary.

Nineteen-year-old race walker Isaac Beacroft became an instant favourite. During the race he was taunted by the athlete in front of him, but instead of reacting, he stuck to his race plan. When it mattered most, he walked away with the gold medal.

Our Para athletes have inspired the nation yet again.

Athletes have returned from career-threatening injuries to win medals.

The Australian Diamonds suffered the heartbreak of losing their semi-final by a single goal, missing the gold medal match for the first time.

Hayley Lewis once stood on top of the podium as a teenage swimming sensation. This year I watched her son, Kai Taylor, wear the green and gold too.

Every event has reminded me of something.

Nobody starts on the podium.

We only see the finish line

When we watch elite sport, we usually see a few minutes of competition.

We don't see the thousands of hours that came before it.

The early mornings.

The injuries.

The self-doubt.

The sessions where nothing seemed to improve.

The days they wanted to quit.

Many of these athletes are working full-time jobs while training before sunrise and after work. They somehow find the energy to keep showing up day after day.

Watching them has made me feel incredibly proud to be Australian.

It has also made me feel just a little bit lazy when I don't feel like going for my afternoon walk!

But mostly, it's made me think about confidence.

I don't think athletes are the only ones who feel like imposters

I didn't know what "imposter syndrome" was until I joined SeneGence.

Once I heard the term, I realised I'd been experiencing it for years.

I just hadn't given it a name.

When I started my first accounting job back in 1999, I felt completely out of my depth.

I didn't know how to use email.

I barely knew the computer.

I was in a new town, working for a sole practitioner, asking questions all day long.

I felt like a burden.

Looking back now, I realise how lucky I was.

Instead of making me feel small, my boss simply expected me to learn.

He made me fix my own mistakes.

He taught me to take responsibility for my work.

He believed in me long before I believed in myself.

That lesson has shaped my career for the past 27 years.

Then came markets...

Markets have taught me confidence too.

Some days you sell beautifully.

Other days you pack everything back into the car wondering why you even bothered.

The hardest part isn't the quiet days.

It's the comments.

"That's too expensive."

"I've seen someone else do it cheaper."

"I don't really like it."

People often forget there's a real person standing behind the table.

Someone who designed it.

Made it.

Priced it.

Hoped someone might love it.

Those words stay with you longer than people realise.

Then came SeneGence

My first Seminar was one of the most emotional weekends I've experienced.

I finally met Donna after years of knowing each other online.

I sat in a room surrounded by women I admired.

Women selling the very same products I was selling.

Women achieving incredible success.

I remember thinking...

"If we're all doing the same thing... maybe I'm the problem."

I came home inspired.

I also came home exhausted.

If you've ever attended a conference or training event, you'll probably understand what I mean.

Sometimes seeing other people's success fills you with hope.

Sometimes it quietly makes you question your own.

Even AI scared me

Believe it or not...

I was terrified of using AI.

Not because I didn't think it could help.

Because I was worried people would say...

"That's not really Brooke anymore."

Now?

It's simply another tool.

It helps me organise my thoughts.

Improve my writing.

Build my website.

Learn new skills.

But it doesn't replace my experiences.

Those are still mine.

Just like athletes use better shoes, better technology and better coaching, I've learnt that using better tools doesn't make your achievements any less real.

So where does confidence come from?

I've thought about this a lot over the years.

I don't think confidence comes first.

I think action comes first.

Confidence catches up later.

Years ago, I attended a SeneGence training where one presenter kept repeating the same sentence.

"Just push the button."

She was talking about going Live on Facebook.

If it all went wrong...

Press stop.

If nobody watched...

Press stop.

If you forgot what to say...

Press stop.

Just push the button.

So I did.

For months I went Live almost every day.

No elaborate script.

No perfect lighting.

No polished production.

I just kept showing up.

Eventually...

The confidence came.

Comparison is the thief of joy

For years I compared myself with other people.

Other crafters.

Other SeneGence distributors.

Other content creators.

I wondered why they seemed to connect with people so easily while I struggled.

Eventually I realised something.

Life isn't my competition.

So I unfollowed people.

Not because I disliked them.

Because I needed to hear my own voice again.

Today my focus isn't chasing the next algorithm.

It's building something that lasts.

A website.

A blog.

An Accounting Library.

A place where something I write today might still help someone two years from now.

That feels much more meaningful than a Facebook post that disappears tomorrow.

Confidence isn't loud

People often imagine confidence as the loudest person in the room.

The athlete standing on top of the podium.

The biggest business.

The person with the most followers.

I don't see it that way anymore.

I think confidence is often the quiet person.

The one who watches.

Learns.

Practises.

Keeps turning up.

Keeps training.

Keeps trying.

Confidence comes and goes.

Even after 27 years as an accountant, I still double-check things I already know because the consequences of getting them wrong matter.

That's not a lack of confidence.

That's professionalism.

Nobody Starts on the Podium

One of my favourite memories is when we took the kids to the Gold Coast Commonwealth Games in 2018.

When the Games were announced, we decided the kids were the perfect age to experience something special together.

We had no tickets, but I rang my Aunt and booked in with her to stay. She said, ‘that’s years away’!

We just knew we wanted to be there.

Through the ballot process we secured tickets to the netball, swimming, gymnastics, beach volleyball and athletics.

We met cycling champion Anna Meares.

Danny patiently waited for a photo with high jumper Brendon Starc.

I bumped into Sharelle McMahon and Cath Cox carrying their groceries and toilet paper!

My cousin's daughter danced in the Opening Ceremony and even dressed up as Borobi, my favourite mascot.

It wasn't really about the medals.

It was about the memories.

This week I heard former Commonwealth Games athlete Jenelle Elford say something about her daughter Lani that has stayed with me.

"The medals will tarnish, but the memories will last a lifetime."

I think she's right.

From My Desk

Nobody starts on the podium.

And nobody stays there forever.

Eventually the baton is passed.

The medals are packed away.

A new generation begins training.

The same is true in business.

In careers.

In parenting.

In life.

If you're feeling like an imposter today...

Keep showing up.

Keep asking questions.

Keep learning.

Keep training.

Don't compare your beginning to someone else's middle.

Because confidence isn't something you're given.

It's something you earn.

One brave step at a time.

Be real, not perfect. Be Kind. Be Brave. Be Yourself.