Who are you?

I mean, who are you really?

Not, who you're trying to be, but ... you.

Go a head and answer. Guarantee it's not as easy as you think. Or maybe I'm just slow (which is always a possibility).

During a meeting with a client this week, there was a conversation around "uniqueness." You know, the "what differentiates you from all the other (fill in the blank)?" question. Which, by the way, is usually asked after the "who are you" question is answered with a jumbled mess of industry buzz words. So we ask again, "what makes you different than everyone else in your competitive grid?"

[Insert Silence. Lots of it]

They suddenly look as me as if i just attacked them. Like I just took that dream right off of the puffy rabbit-shaped cloud and sent it crashing to the ground. And I get it. This is a bit invasive. Overwhelming. Frustrating. It's embarrassing not to know the answer to a question that you, of all people, should be able to answer. Lucky for them, I know how hard it is. So before the self-depravation sends them into a panic, I chime in with some action steps and talk them gently talk them down from the ledge.

This part of the branding process isn't meant to be demoralizing, but when you realize what you've been doing all along is just some variation of what's already been done ... it's a bit of a slap in the face (especially if you've been a glorified copy-cat for most of your career/life. The horror sets in quickly with the thought of attempting to make the same living as ... yourself).

To become "reacquainted" with yourself, so-to-speak, is ... messy. It can bring up some things that have long been stored away. For some, the "what makes you unique" conversation reminds them of middle school and their "unique" frizzy hair, head gear or bi-focal glasses everyone else deemed as free comedic material. Ever since then, unique left a bit of a bad taste in their mouths. For others the word seems to fuel their arrogance and its over-use in their dialog makes it strangely ... forgettable.

Either way, the next time someone asks you what you're about, I hope you're able to tell them why you're different. Not just for the sake of being different ... but because you are ... even if you haven't given yourself permission to own it since that one day in science when someone accidentally lit your uniquely frizzy hair on fire.

The truth: you're no good to us as someone else. So, sit on it for a while and come up with an answer that actually suits you ... not the person you think they want you to be. And if that seems daunting and you can't get past the first question without driving yourself into an invisible riverbank, ask a friend or enemy your trust to give it to you straight. Guarantee they've seen it in you for a while now and they've just been waiting for you to figure it out yourself. And once the lightbulb goes off, it's time to own it. Got it? I'm serious. Don't even do this if you aren't ready to see what you're really made of.

Ok. Now go make it happen.