Kat Smith,
Data Maintenance Manager
“Somewhere along the way it shifted, and by the end it felt meaningful, real, and actually mine.”
Kat will be the first to admit that when she was asked to complete a leadership compass, her initial reaction wasn’t curiosity or enthusiasm, it was resistance. Strong resistance.
She didn’t want to do it and then putting it off until the night before. By then, the frustration had only built, and sitting down to begin felt more like a chore than anything creative.
Which was ironic, really. Kat had always loved art. She’d studied it for years and enjoyed drawing and painting, but only when it was on her own terms. This felt forced, and that made it difficult to engage.
When she did start, she tried to lean into that creative side, sketching out ideas and reconnecting with familiar mediums. But what emerged felt darker than expected. Her early concepts reflected her feelings at the time, heavy, uncomfortable, and not something she felt ready to share. Even after talking it through with her manager and exploring ways to shift the idea into something more positive, it didn’t sit right.
So she stopped again.
The breakthrough came unexpectedly, not at her desk but while playing a childhood favourite, Pokémon. That’s when the idea landed: what if her leadership compass was a Pokémon stats sheet?
It instantly felt more natural. More honest. It gave her a way to reflect on herself without forcing a version that didn’t feel true. With no time left to overthink, she just started. Even then, she felt frustrated, like she’d already given enough of herself. But she pushed through, beginning with something small, a single square, and slowly, that resistance began to ease.
As she built it out, choosing the Pokémon and shaping the design, something shifted. The frustration softened, the task became absorbing, and by the end, she found herself actually enjoying it. More than that, she felt lighter, like she’d let go of something she’d been carrying.
Through the process, Kat realised how much she’d been focusing on the negative sides of her values. Simplifying them into a visual format helped her accept them without getting lost in them. It also gave her space to see her neurodiversity in a more positive light, not just as a challenge, but as a strength.
Most importantly, it helped her feel comfortable owning a simple truth: that much of what drives her is the life she’s building with her husband. Her work, her effort, it’s all rooted in creating stability and comfort for them both. And that, she realised, is enough.
Sharing her compass with colleagues was a mixed experience. The feedback was overwhelmingly positive, encouraging, thoughtful, even confidence-boosting, but also a little uncomfortable at times.
“It felt a bit cringey,” she admits. “But it also gave me a confidence boost I really needed.”
That response, along with supportive conversations along the way, helped her open up more, moving beyond the safety of a mask and sharing a more honest version of herself.
Looking back, it’s hard to believe something she resisted so much became something so meaningful. But in the end, that shift, from “meh” to meaningful was exactly what made the experience stick.