What I learned as a First-Time Podcast Guest.

July 29, 2026

I want to be on stage telling my story. And every time I picture it, I am completely overcome by the intensity of my own feelings. It is like my emotions reverberate against everyone in the audience, and they come back at me tenfold. I know with time I can do it, but the idea of standing up there and having my voice crack is like that first big rock that hits your windshield, only to spider out moments later, leaving you cautious, wary, and unable to see clearly. I know I am not ready quite yet—at least not to seek it out myself! (Fun fact: I do have a keynote draft started, so I mean, I'm not saying it won't be soon.)

And here is the thing: I am not afraid of public speaking. I have, at various times, had a career that required me to speak in front of community groups, appointed bodies, and elected bodies. I have done work that has garnered media attention and have been interviewed for local news pieces.

In those times, it was (mostly) easy to lead with the work, consider myself just a cog in the whole operation, and know that the spotlight was really shining on my employer prioritizing the work I was doing. It was exciting—and partly because the work I was doing was positive and did not result in community backlash. I welcomed the opportunities to speak, to educate, and to work to build consensus—or at minimum, help people understand and set expectations.

That type of speaking does not hold a candle to the emotional depth of the awareness message I want to make.

This year, it has become increasingly important for me to speak. To share. And to open up about my grief journey. The more I listen to others share, the more I feel that I need to join the choir of voices across the country raising awareness and pursuing lifelong healing after suicide loss.

Let me just say, it is WAY easier for me to write about my experience—often on a plane, and through a cascade of tears. I am not crying today, mostly because I have spent the weekend wading through the intensity of grief I don't let out often (blog post on that coming soon).

So many things are in synergy right now: semicolon earrings, fundraising, flights to attend suicide prevention work that has deepened my knowledge and healing, being part of planning a first-ever suicide prevention summit in my community, and the reality that 20 years has gone by since I lost my dad to suicide. Twenty years.

I want to challenge myself. I want to live fully. I also want to be the reason a little extra hope and connection get woven into our world. So, in an effort to fulfill my personal goals (dare I say Bingo square—read about that here), I decided I wanted to feel out what it would be like to share my story on a podcast.

Picture before recording on She Speaks with Shara - episode to release on 8/16/2026.

Something about the one-on-one conversation, the comfort of my home office, the ability to let the reality of the red "recording" button fade as the conversation goes—ooooh, and knowing that if things go sideways, the host can edit bits out or just completely abandon the interview!

Getting my first invite to a podcast felt manifested, honestly. I decided being a podcast guest was my intention on a Monday, and I literally (unsolicited) was asked to be a guest the very next day! I'm not even kidding! We scheduled for the next week, and the podcast went live in early July.

I was one of the first guests on At Work, Under Pressure with Jessi Beyer. Her podcast was so new I didn't even have an episode to listen to, to get a sense of her style and the overall vibe of the podcast. To me, it didn't even matter all that much. We had already had a few conversations, and I felt comfortable overall. Jessi is easy to talk to, and the conversation flowed well. (listen here)

A few things really stuck out to me as a first-time podcast guest. The first question was general and wide (it didn't make the final cut—thank goodness!). I rambled. Pretty sure it was just to get me talking, though, which was so smart! I was intent on trying my best to share the right message, educate, and be an interesting guest. I also told a story I don't tell often and left us both choked up.

I got the alert that the post went live on the Friday before the Fourth of July. We were heading into the first day of my weekend-long craft fair (you can read about that here), and I had woken up early before any of my family. So, I grabbed my headset, leashed up the Chief Happiness Officer, Cedar, and headed out for a morning walk to listen.

I am glad I was moving my body while I was listening. I was bracing myself for harsh internal criticism. Thankfully, it did not come. Were there some things I would change? Heck yes! Was it perfect? Heck no! But you know what? I'm proud of myself. I put context to some of the "whys" of the work that I do. I shared the importance of suicide prevention legislation and how engaging in the whole process brings meaning to my loss. And I'd absolutely rather have the whole world listen to it than my family!  I am not even sure that they know it is out there in the world to listen to.

After a few weeks had passed and a few friends and colleagues had taken a listen, I started softening up to the idea of sharing it more broadly with my family. Which is good because I have a handful more podcasts scheduled!

Finding additional podcasts to be a guest on tested my resolve a little, though honestly, they came pretty seamlessly. As I began to do cold pitches to some local podcasts, I decided that trying a month of PodMatch would be worth the cost ($35). So I started looking at my matches, listening to various podcasts, reaching out, and scheduling conversations.

In the coming months, I will update my Hope + Resources page with links to the conversations if you are interested in hearing more.

We all have stories to tell, in our own time, and in our own ways.

Please know that your story matters.

Wear Hope. Share Hope.
Nicole