A note on honesty, growth, and what happens when the resume looks great but something inside you is still reaching for more.
I've been sitting with this for a while now. Not sure how to say it. Not even fully sure what it is.
But here goes.
By most measures, things are good. I've built something real — as a professor, a change management expert, a supplier diversity professional, a leader who genuinely cares about the people around him. Renee and I recently established an endowment at Oakland University that will fund student leadership development for years to come. That's not nothing. That means something.
And yet.
Something is missing.
I don't have a clean answer for you. I'm not writing this from the other side of a breakthrough. I'm writing it from the middle of one.
The Honest Part
I've spent a lot of my career helping organizations and people manage change. The irony isn't lost on me. Here I am — the guy who teaches others to identify the gap between where they are and where they want to be — sitting in my own gap, not fully sure what the future state looks like.
That's uncomfortable to admit. Especially publicly. But I've always believed that real leadership starts with honesty — not just the kind you perform in a meeting, but the kind that costs you something.
"Real leadership starts with honesty — not just the kind you perform in a meeting, but the kind that costs you something. This costs me something."
What I Know
I know I am wired for connection. Not the surface-level "How are you?" "Good, you?" "Good." kind — but the real kind. The kind where someone walks away feeling seen.
I know I love building things. Programs. Teams. Ideas. The endowment wasn't just a financial gift — it was a statement about what we believe in. That students deserve access to experiences that shape who they're becoming.
I know that when I'm at my best, I'm not managing. I'm empowering. There's a difference, and I feel it in my gut when I've crossed from one to the other.
What I Don't Know
What comes next. Not exactly.
And that's the part I'm learning to be okay with. I was taught — like most of us — that not having the answer is a weakness. That uncertainty is something to manage, not something to sit in.
But I've been thinking about what I tell my teams. Get back to the basics. Focus on people before process. Ask the hard questions, even when you're afraid of the answers.
So I'm asking myself: what does the next version of me look like? What am I still reaching for?
I'm not ready to answer that fully. But I'm asking it. And that feels like the first honest step.
Why I'm Sharing This
Because I think a lot of you are sitting with something similar. You've built a good life on paper. You've checked boxes that mattered — to you, to your family, to people who believed in you. And still, something nags at you in the quiet moments.
That's not ingratitude. That's not weakness. That's your instinct telling you there's more.
"We owe it to ourselves — and to the people we lead — to pay attention to that voice. Not to silence it with busyness. Not to outrun it with achievements. To actually listen."
I'm not sure what the next chapter looks like yet. But I know it starts with being honest about where I am right now.
So here I am. Unsettled. Curious. And more open than I've been in a long time.
Dr. Jeremy R. Agler is Co-Founder of The Agler Group. He is a Prosci® Certified Change Practitioner, doctoral-level organizational leader, and active faculty at Colorado State University.
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