I was ready to disappear.

Sitting in my office, laptop open, watching strangers dissect everything from my haircut to my clothes in the comments of a LinkedIn post I'd just shared.

The conversation had spiralled from thoughtful comments about the ideas, into personal attacks, and people from around the globe were piling on.

I just sat there and watched it happen.

My main thought in that moment?

"If this is what thought leadership looks like, I don't want it."

I closed my laptop, walked to the kitchen, and made coffee on that rainy Monday afternoon.

Everything in me wanted to delete the post, shut down the conversation and maybe even delete my entire account. Who was I kidding?

Maybe I wasn't cut out to be in the arena after all.

But that moment forced me to make an important decision.

The Moment That Defines Every Thought Leader

Every thought leader I have ever known has faced this moment in some way - the day the critics get so loud that they quietly consider disappearing.

Then there’s the fear of criticism before it even arrives.

The fear that someone might disagree, or laugh, or find fault in our words, or ask ‘who on earth do you think you are to claim to be an expert?’

Honestly, I don’t think there’s anything that holds us back more in life than the potential opinions of people we don’t even know.

So here's what I decided on that Monday afternoon.

If facing criticism is the price of entry to share ideas that I believe matter.

Then I’m willing to pay it.

Now, let’s be clear here. That doesn’t mean I’m going to leave myself wide open to any uninvited or unhelpful attack that comes my way.

What it meant was, in accepting criticism as a natural (and often healthy) part of sharing and refining our ideas – I then get to focus my energy on deciding exactly ‘how’ and ‘when’ I want to receive it.

That’s when I moved from stepping into the arena to owning the arena.

The Decision That Changed Everything

On that day I made four decisions that transformed how I handle criticism - and as a result how I show up as a thought leader:

Decision #1: My platform, my rules.

This one is simple. If you’re on one of my platforms, you accept my rules.

Social media may be a public space, but my platform within social media is my own.

I decided I would never again allow conversations about anything other than ideas on my platforms.

​​Disagree with my thinking? Love that, show me the data.

​​Challenge my conclusions? Please do, let's debate.

Attack my appearance or make personal threats? You're gone.

Setting boundaries isn't about being defensive - it's about holding a space for healthy conversation and debate.

Decision #2: Keep the breadcrumbs, drop the loaf.

This was a game-changer I got from a communication workshop many years ago.

Instead of avoiding criticism or taking every piece of feedback as a reason to beat myself up, instead I extract what’s useful and discard the rest.

When someone hands you a metaphorical loaf of criticism, look for the breadcrumbs of truth buried inside. What can you learn? What might you improve? What's worth exploring with a mentor? Then drop the rest and keep moving.

Take the gold. Leave the opinions. Keep moving.

Decision #3: I control when and where I receive feedback.

Any speaker or thought leader will tell you that the worst time to process criticism, is right after you've put yourself out there.

When you're vulnerable, full of adrenaline, and emotionally raw.

However, it can be really hard to deflect someone that genuinely means well. So now when someone says, "Can I give you some feedback?" straight after a pitch or presentation – I respond with: "Thanks, I'd love to hear it. Can we schedule a time when I can really listen and take notes?"

This simple shift lets me approach feedback resourcefully instead of reactively.

Decision #4: Not every moment is a test of my right to be here.

I want you to read that one again.

Now remove the word ‘moment’ and add whatever you’re working towards right now.

Not every meeting is a test of my right to be here. Not every presentation is a test of my right to be here. Not every post is a test of my right to be here.

When I first read this sentence, I wrote it on a Post-it note and stuck it to my desk. It hit me that, for years, I had been treating every post, every presentation, every interaction as a final exam for my worthiness.

Here's the truth: You've already earned the right to be here.

Once you really own that, you can finally relax and enjoy the creative process of showing up with your expertise - in a way that feels both powerful and authentic.

What the Critics Actually Reveal

Here’s the largest thing I realised on that rainy day staring at my laptop.

The people sitting in the cheap seats throwing peanuts?

They're not your audience.

Your audience - the people you're meant to serve – are the ones watching how you receive and handle the criticism. They're learning from your boundaries, your grace under pressure, your commitment to staying in the arena despite the noise.

Young women are watching. Other experts who are scared to speak up are watching. Future leaders are watching.

When you stay in the arena with dignity and clear boundaries, you're not just building your own authority.

You're giving others permission to claim theirs.

And your right to be there? That's not up for debate.