Every person has a story to tell about support and encouragement that has shaped their lives in some way. Today, I am going to share mine, and hopefully, it resonates with you.

It was a typical Tuesday morning, grey and drizzly, the sort of day that makes you want to stay curled up in bed. But I had a presentation to deliver at work, and I was nervous. I had spent weeks preparing for it, but the fear of public speaking was too strong.

My colleague, Steve, noticed my anxiety. He could easily have ignored it, but he didn’t. Instead, he pulled up a chair next to me and asked if I wanted to run through my presentation with him. I agreed, and for the next hour, we went through the slides, with Steve giving constructive feedback and suggestions.

As the day wore on, my anxiety didn’t disappear completely, but it lessened. When it was time for the presentation, Steve was there in the audience, giving me encouraging nods and thumbs up. When I stumbled over a part of the presentation, I looked at Steve, and his reassuring smile gave me the confidence to carry on.

After the presentation, he didn’t just congratulate me; he specifically pointed out parts where he thought I excelled, reinforcing the fact that I had done well. It was genuine, heartfelt support and it made a world of difference to me.

This experience taught me the power of genuine support. It is not just about being there for someone; it’s about understanding their fears, helping them overcome those fears, and celebrating their success. It’s about making someone believe in themselves when they are doubting their abilities.

That day, I didn’t just deliver a successful presentation; I learned a valuable lesson about the importance of support in our lives. We all need a Steve in our life, someone who sees us not just for who we are, but for who we can be.

So, the next time you see someone struggling, be their Steve. It might not seem like much, but it could make a world of difference to them. After all, we all need a little support now and then, don’t we?

Until next time,
Tina