Your Resume Is Not a Record of Your Past. It's a Description of Your Future.

By Sophie Leroi & Michael Bocim

Let me say something that might feel uncomfortable at first.

The reason most resumes aren't convincing isn't poor formatting. It isn't weak bullet points. It isn't even a lack of experience.

It's that the person writing it doesn't yet know how to clearly and confidently articulate — in their own words — who they are professionally.

That's not a resume problem. That's a self-knowledge problem. And it's extraordinarily common.

The Resume Trap Most People Fall Into

Here's what typically happens when someone sits down to update their resume.

They open a blank document. They start listing jobs in reverse chronological order. They Google "good resume examples." They look at a few LinkedIn profiles of people with impressive titles. And slowly, without realizing it, they start to sound like someone else entirely.

The words become borrowed. The bullet points become generic. The professional summary — if they write one at all — reads like it could belong to anyone.

And then they wonder why their resume isn't landing.

The problem isn't the document. The problem is that they skipped the most important step: understanding themselves first.

What a Resume Actually Is

Here's the reframe that changes everything:

Your resume is not a record of your past jobs. It's a description of your strengths for your future.

Read that again.

Every line, every bullet point, every word you choose is an opportunity to say: here's who I am, here's what I bring, and here's why it's relevant here. It's not a chronological archive. It's a curated argument for why you are the right person for what comes next.

When you understand that, the whole exercise shifts. You stop asking "what did I do at that job?" and start asking "what does this experience reveal about who I am as a professional?"

That's a fundamentally different question. And it leads to a fundamentally different document.

Why Most People Skip the Most Important Step

Career transitions are hard. Job searches are stressful. When the pressure is on, most people go straight to the document because it feels productive. It feels like action.

But a resume built on a foundation of unclear self-knowledge is like building a house on sand. It might look fine from the outside — but it won't hold.

The most compelling resumes aren't the ones with the best formatting or the most impressive titles. They're the ones where you can feel the person behind the words. Where the language is specific, consistent, and unmistakably theirs. Where every line seems to say: I know exactly who I am and what I bring, and I'm not apologizing for it.

That clarity doesn't come from a template. It comes from doing the internal work first.

Three Principles for a Resume That Actually Sounds Like You

1. Lead with who you are, not just what you've done.

Your professional summary — those two or three lines at the top of your resume — is the most valuable real estate on the page. Most people waste it on a list of adjectives ("results-driven professional with 10 years of experience") that could describe literally anyone.

Use it differently. Use it to say something true and specific about who you are as a professional. What do you value? What kind of work brings out the best in you? What do you want someone to understand about you before they read another word?

That's your opening line.

2. Let your values show in your language.

Here's something most resume advice misses entirely: coherence. Not just coherence between your bullet points and your job description — but coherence between your inner sense of who you are and the words you use to describe your experience.

When those two things align, a resume feels cohesive rather than assembled. It feels like it was written by one person with a clear point of view, not pieced together from a dozen different templates.

The words you choose should echo what matters most to you. If you value impact, your bullet points should show impact. If you value collaboration, your language should reflect that. The resume is not separate from your values — it's an expression of them.

3. Coherence over comprehensiveness.

This is the hardest one to put into practice, because it requires leaving things out.

A resume that tells one clear story is more powerful than one that tries to include everything. Every line you add should pass a simple test: does this serve my narrative? Does it add something meaningful to my professional portrait? Or am I including it because I worked hard on it and I want it to count?

Not everything counts equally. And that's okay.

The most confident resumes are often the shortest ones — because they've made deliberate choices about what to include and what to leave out. That deliberateness is itself a signal to the reader.

Think of It Less Like Writing, More Like Transcribing

Here's the thing: if you've done the internal work first — if you've taken the time to understand your values, articulate your strengths, and shape your professional narrative — then your resume already exists.

Not on paper. In your head.

What you're doing when you write it isn't creating something from scratch. You're transcribing something you already know by heart.

That shift in mindset changes everything about how you approach the page. You're not staring at a blank document wondering what to say. You're translating something that already has integrity into a conventional format.

The thinking is already done. The resume is just the artifact.

A Question Worth Sitting With

Before you open your resume document, ask yourself this:

What would I want someone to understand about me before they even looked at my work history?

Whatever comes up — that's your starting point. Not your most recent job title. Not your longest tenure. Not your most impressive achievement.

The answer to that question is the thread that should run through every line of your resume. It's what makes a document feel cohesive. It's what makes a recruiter pause and think: I want to meet this person.

The Bottom Line

Most resume advice skips the most important step. It starts with the document and works backward to the person.

We think that's exactly backwards.

Start with yourself. Understand your values, your strengths, the narrative that's uniquely yours. And then — only then — open the document.

Because when you know who you are, the resume practically writes itself.

Ready to do the internal work first? Start with the Professional Compass on Res/You/Me — a guided reflection exercise that gives you the self-knowledge your resume has been missing.

Or if you'd rather work through it with a coach, book a free session with Sophie and we'll figure out what you're trying to say — and why it matters.

Go Lose Yourself — In the Best Way Possible

When you're in the process of undertaking a task, and you don't have a clear path through the middle section, you keep trying. You change your methods. You change your style. You change the language. To an extent, that's fine and perfectly normal. That's just part of existing in the world.

But if and when you keep failing, and you keep changing as a response to those failures, at what point do you stop being yourself? At what point do you forget why you're doing what you're doing?

It seems like there's too much in our everyday lives — and maybe even beyond — that pressures us to not be ourselves. There are so many reasons for this. Maybe your values don't align with the people you work with, but you don't get to speak up because then you're the bad guy. Maybe you're trying to get a match on a dating app, and you're saying the things you think somebody wants to hear. Maybe something that should fall into the category of kindness and compassion is something that's now political, and you don't know what to say about it. All of these different pieces push you to conform and slowly erase who you are.

Without the right tools, techniques, and people in your life — without anchors — how do you stay true to who you are? How do you keep showing up in the world that way?

When I write, I consider myself somewhat of a creative. I like wordplay. I like goofy analogies and metaphors. I like drawing connections between things that don't necessarily make sense simply because it's fun, and because it lets me engage with the world as myself.

In the course of my life, I've gone through times where I just don't know what to say. I don't know how to say what I want to say. In those moments, when I don't have the support I need, I tend to retreat. Tend to say less, soften more, stay quiet. Because quiet is safer.

I think there's a right way and a wrong way to lose yourself.

Honestly, I think Eminem got it the most correct. You find the goal you want, focus on it, stay true to yourself even when it gets hard, even when you struggle.

The alternative is losing yourself to a place that's a lot harder to come back from, because it's a direction you didn't choose. You succumb to it. You don't know how to answer when somebody asks you, what do you do for fun? You can't remember the last time that time passed because flow states aren't a thing anymore. You drift away from friends and connections. You find yourself in a very lonely and isolating place.

So go lose yourself, in the best way possible. Be a little chaos gremlin and write what you want to write. Say what you want to say. Be yourself. As long as it's you, as long as it's real.

Intentional Pressure: What Pottery Taught Me About Stretching Without Breaking

There's a crucial difference between productive discomfort — the stretch that builds new capability — and destructive stress that breaks rather than shapes. Pottery taught me the difference.

I was staring at what should have been a pretty vase with a round belly and a tall narrow neck, but it looked more like a wonky ball of clay. After weeks of successfully throwing mugs, bowls, and yes… even plates, I had decided to challenge myself with something more creatively complex and demanding. That day, our teacher had brought this beautiful bottle vase to the studio, and I decided that would be my next challenge. 

After a demo and some 1:1 coaching, my hands were trying to partner with the clay to get to the desired outcome. I was following each step carefully, trying to remember everything I had just seen and learned, and slowly but surely the frustration started building in my chest. This was hard. This was uncomfortable. This was not going to an easy 20 minute throwing session. This was about to take an entire hour… Something about the struggle felt familiar from my work as a coach —I was watching someone (myself) navigate the messy, vulnerable process of growth.

The Discomfort of Growth

Those first attempts at pottery were humbling in ways I hadn't expected. My hands and my brain, usually confident in guiding others through career transitions, felt uncertain against the clay. I was reminded of the countless clients who have sat across from me, describing their resistance to taking on a challenging new project or considering a role that felt just out of reach. There's something deeply human about our instinct to stay where we feel competent, where we know we can succeed.

But here's what both pottery and career development have taught me: there's a crucial difference between productive discomfort and destructive stress. Productive discomfort is that feeling when you're stretching just beyond your current capabilities—your hands are learning new muscle memory, your brain is forming new neural pathways. Destructive stress is when you're forcing outcomes, fighting against your natural limitations, or pushing so hard that you're likely to break something (or yourself) in the process. In other words, if the challenge becomes too much, we stop functioning in positive and supportive ways. 

This reminded me of a graph I printed out years ago when I started coaching clients that’s been up on my wall in my office for all this time: the optimal tension curve, or stress performance curve:

Source: https://delphis.org.uk/peak-performance/stress-and-the-pressure-performance-curve/

The Paradox of Endless Possibilities

Walking into a ceramics studio for the first time can be overwhelming. There are many different clay types, then you learn about hundreds of glazes and glaze combinations, countless techniques to master, the wheel, handbuilding, and infinite forms to explore. Functional or decorative pieces—the possibilities stretch endlessly in every direction. It's exhilarating and paralyzing at the same time.

I see this same paralysis in my coaching practice regularly. Clients come to me feeling stuck, not because they lack options, but because they have too many. Should they pursue the MBA or focus on gaining more practical skills? Explore the startup world or aim for a role at an established company? Stay or leave? When they are ready to pivot, in what direction? The abundance of choice quickly becomes a barrier to movement.

In pottery, I've learned that you have to pick a direction and start somewhere, even if it's not perfect. You can't master everything at once, and trying to do so often leads to mastering nothing. The same principle applies to career development. Sometimes the best choice is simply to make a choice and begin learning from the experience.

The Creative Flow as Mental Sanctuary

When I decided to start pottery classes last year, one of the things I was most looking forward to was how the creative process would benefit my mental wellbeing. There's something about doing something with your hands and exposing yourself to what is “new”, this complete focus that creates a meditative state I can't replicate anywhere else. I’m still using the analytical part of my brain—the part that's constantly strategizing and problem-solving for clients—when I’m throwing, but instead of strategizing for someone else, I problem solve in the moment, think about what the final product will look like, but it is a very tangible process. 

This creative flow has become non-negotiable in my week. After days spent helping others navigate complex career decisions, I need this space where my hands can work and my mind can wander. It's not just relaxation; it's a different kind of thinking.  

Again, being in that flow state teaches me about optimal challenge levels. When I'm working with clay and everything clicks—when the pressure is just right, the clay is centered, and the form is emerging as I envision it—I'm in that sweet spot where skill meets challenge. It's taught me to recognize this feeling and help my clients find it in their professional lives too.

Building Your Foundation Before You Stretch

In pottery, and most other crafts, there's a progression that can't be rushed. You learn to center clay before you learn to pull walls. You master basic shapes before attempting complex forms. Skip these fundamentals, and everything becomes an exercise in frustration.

The same principle applies to career development, though it's often less obvious. I've worked with clients who want to leap into senior leadership roles without first developing their ability to influence without authority. Others want to transition into completely new industries without identifying and building transferable skills or understanding the new landscape. The temptation is always to jump ahead, to want the big breakthrough immediately. These foundational elements are what make ambitious stretches possible rather than just wishful thinking.

When you have a solid foundation, the sea of possibilities becomes less overwhelming and more navigable. You can evaluate opportunities based on how they build on your existing strengths rather than feeling like you're starting from scratch each time.

One step at a time

It was during one of my first pottery classes that our teacher warned us of the almost inevitable overwhelm students feel when they start learning about different techniques, tools, or clay bodies. She told us to take one step at a time. Every week, focus on one goal, and move on only when you feel you’re comfortable enough to keep going. 

This approach is also how I coach clients through career growth, especially when the coaching is highly tactical. Rather than overwhelming them with lists of all the skills they need to develop or all the networking they should do, we identify one meaningful stretch at a time. Maybe it's volunteering to lead a cross-functional project, or taking on a mentoring role, or learning one new technical skill that's adjacent to their current expertise.

Each step builds confidence for the next. You're not just building skills; you're building your capacity for growth itself.

When to Push and When to Pause

It’s very likely that at some point, we are pushing too hard. In pottery you might feel that you have overworked your clay, or that the shape you are attempting is far too advanced for your skills. 

In career development or any other personal or professional goal, maybe you’re feeling more overwhelmed than energized, maybe the lack of progress is starting to wear you down. These are signals that you might be in destructive stress territory rather than productive discomfort. 

When that happens, the wisest choice is usually strategic retreat—step away from the wheel and start with fresh clay, take a break from your networking or your job search activities to get a fresh perspective, or take time to consolidate new skills before attempting the next stretch. This isn't failure; it is wisdom. That’s what I call “intentional pressure.” 

Ready to Apply This to Your Own Growth?

Start by identifying one foundational skill in your field that you could strengthen over the next couple of months—something that feels achievable but slightly challenging. In parallel, find your creative outlet: whether it's pottery, painting, music, or gardening, commit to one activity that puts you in flow state regularly. Finally, practice the art of incremental challenge by choosing just one new stretch opportunity rather than trying to revolutionize everything at once. 

Ask yourself: What's your next meaningful stretch? And what creative practice will support you through it? 

Here are a few additional Questions for Reflection:

• What foundational skills in your field feel solid, and which ones need more attention before you take on bigger challenges?

• When you think about your current growth opportunities, which ones feel like productive discomfort versus destructive stress?

• What creative activity or practice helps you access flow state, and how can you make more space for it in your week?

• Looking at your career "portfolio" so far, what evidence do you have of your ability to learn and adapt?

• Where in your life are you trying to do too much at once, and what would happen if you focused on just one meaningful stretch?

• What signals tell you when you're pushing too hard versus when you're not challenging yourself enough?

• If you were to choose one small, deliberate step toward growth this week, what would it be?

The Liminal Space of New Year Resolutions

January is coming to a close. Some of us have set goals at the beginning of the year, but for most of us these resolutions have already started to slip. 

In the first few days of January, we make lists of what we want to change in our lives, we are full of intangible willpower and optimism. We want a clean slate, a hard reset, a break from whatever was before. But here's what I've noticed in years of coaching people through change: the ones who actually transform aren't those who demand immediate rupture. They're the ones who take the time to walk across the bridge between what was and what's becoming.

That bridge is what I call a liminal space. It’s a place that does not want to rush, it’s a space of transformation.It’s not a problem to solve. 

What is the Goal of Liminal Space? 

When you learn to pause and not push, you get access to more clarity.  

For example, you start to notice the difference between what you think you should want (the resolution inherited from culture, family, old versions of yourself) and what you actually want (the intention alive in you right now).

A Practical Framework: Intentions Over Resolutions

Resolutions are about fixing something, and usual extrinsic motivations. They're built on lack: "I'm not disciplined/fit/organized enough." They're future-focused, driven by pressure or guilt, and require constant willpower.

Intentions are about aligning something, they are intrinsic motivations. They're built on what matters to YOU at this point in time: "Here's what I care about, and how I want to live that." They're present-focused and naturally motivated.

Instead of "What do I need to change?" or "What do I need to fix?" ask yourself:

• What's actually alive in me right now?

• What matters more to me in 2026 than in 2025?

• What is my overarching intention for how I want to spend my year?

When you answer those questions, you are creating intentions and wanting to embody your own personal philosophy.

What If Your 2026 Is About Revelation, Not Resolution?

So here's my invitation for you right now, standing in this liminal space at the end of January:

What if you didn't push yourself toward a resolution? What if you started with a question instead? Not "What do I need to fix?" but "What does this threshold I'm in want to reveal to me?"

Maybe your threshold is a career transition that's been brewing. Maybe it's a shift in what matters to you, maybe it’s wanting a more creative life. Maybe it's permission to finally say no to something that's been draining you.

The liminal space isn't meant to be rushed through. It's meant to be inhabited. It's the place where you get to consciously choose what you're becoming next—not what you think you should become, but what's actually calling to you.

Your Liminal Space Reflection Prompt"What if your 2026 isn't about resolution—it's about revelation? Use this guided journal prompt to explore your actual intentions and the threshold you're standing in."

Ready to Explore Your Threshold?

Schedule a free 30-minute consultation to clarify your 2026 intentions and discover what your liminal space is asking of you.

[Book a Free Session]

Discover Res/You/Me, our AI-powered coaching app, designed to support you through the in-between moments of your career and life.

[Discover our App]