Digging Deeper Together: A Mole Story

From “Ugly” Nickname to Business Name: Embracing Our "Flaws"

The name of my business is an intimate story of acceptance, of reframing something I once saw as “bad” into something to embrace, even celebrate. It’s a reminder that what we resist often holds the most power.

The Nickname I Hated

Lulu, my oldest and dearest friend from France, calls me “La Taupe”, “The Mole.” For the longest time, I loathed that nickname. Like, viscerally.

Picture this: a rainy afternoon, the Girls Gang, squeezed into Lulu’s parents’ garage, which we’d turned into our sacred hangout spot. Mismatched, sagging couches that had seen better decades, a coffee table that wobbled if you looked at it wrong, and walls covered in boy band posters. It was freezing, dusty, and smelled like old socks, but to us? It was sacred.

That day, we were in high spirits, laughing and teasing each other. I got up to turn on the light (because, let’s be real, that garage was always too dark), and, true to form, I knocked my shin on the coffee table. I stumbled away, half-swearing, half-laughing, as Lulu seized the moment. She joked about how I was always flipping on the lights, how my glasses were comically huge and thick, and, bam, the nickname was born: La Taupe.

I hated it instantly. Moles are ugly, right? Dirty. Unwanted. People eradicate them from gardens. I didn’t want to be associated with something so… unlovable. As a teenager already wrestling with feeling inadequate and “not enough,” this nickname felt like salt in the wound. Of course, Lulu, blessed with the superpower of bestowing nicknames, wasn’t letting it go. She used it with glee, and I tolerated it with unconvincing protests. My small victory? Keeping it a secret from my family. My garden, my rules.

The Phoenix That Wasn’t

Fast-forward decades later. It's winter on the east coast in Canada, cozied up with my husband and in-laws in their snug little house, surrounded by snow, trees, and the kind of quiet that makes you listen. The walls smelled like pine, and the fireplace crackled softly as we played a game: assign each other an animal.

My mother-in-law, knowing a bit about my life’s constant transformations, suggested a butterfly. We explored it, flying, rebirth. Loved the idea. If I were a bender (shoutout to Avatar: The Last Airbender fans), I’d pick air or fire. Then I excitedly declared, “I’m a phoenix! Powerful, fiery, immortal!” (Okay, fine, I didn’t care about the immortality part, but phoenixes are cool.)

But something nagged at me. Like a gentle tap-tap-tap at the back door of a three-story house. I’m upstairs, distracted by the view, dreaming of phoenixes… and the tap keeps tapping.

The Stubborn Mole

Months later, I was in a full brainstorm session with myself to pick my business name. So naturally, I thought of my majestic phoenix. It went in circles. “Phoenix Coaching” just didn’t land. Like when you try on a pair of jeans that look amazing on the hanger but just don’t fit right. I wanted something that resonated, not just with who I wanted to be, but who I was. But I wasn't ready to hear it, see it and certainly not to accept it. I HAD to be a Phoenix.

Then, during one of our bi-weekly calls, my Lulu, still in France, me in Toronto, opened our video chat with her usual, “Coucou, ma Taupe!”

That’s when I heard the tap. Loud. Clear. Annoying as hell!

You know what happens when you try to ignore a mole? It digs deeper. It pops up where you least expect it, whispering, “I’m here. Deal with it. You’re in my garden now.” Still not fully on board, because I’m stubborn… and phoenixes are cool.. BUT, in my annoyance instead of ignoring the taps, I got curious.

So I did what any self-respecting word nerd would do: I looked up “mole” in Latin. Talpa. Italian too, apparently. I loved it. My body relaxed. Something clicked. Damn... not the click I wanted, but the click I needed. My business name wasn’t going to be about flying. It was going to be about digging.

Took a few more weeks to digest the news, and say goodbye to my cherished Phoenix.

I finally made peace with the nickname I’d resisted for years (dare I say decades? I dare). More than peace, I embraced it. Proudly. The mole’s symbolism? Perfect. Digging deep. Resilience. Slow, steady progress. Moving through the dark, the uncomfortable, the messy, especially there. Things finally fit, for me and my coaching style.

So, I named my business Talpa & Co. My logo is also a mole! The “& Co.”? Because I thrive with people around me (the chosen ones mind you). I need the company, the connection, the shared energy. Like Winnie the Pooh, I'm Jess the Mole. Sigh. Yep.

Our “Flaws” Are Our Superpowers

Are you done rolling your eyes yet? I know, I know, you might have seen this type of “blablabla is your superpower gnagnagna…” so many times it’s sickening, isn’t it?

YES, AND … I want you to stay open and curious and consider this: sometimes what we resist is pointing straight at something useful. The traits we label as “flaws”—our clumsiness, our quirks, our “too muchness”—are usually the very things that make us uniquely powerful.

Let’s break it down with some concrete examples, because this isn’t just woowoo talk. It’s real life.

• They’re the Cracks That Let the Light In

Think of it like this: a perfectly polished vase is beautiful, but it’s the one with a crack that tells a story. That crack? It’s where the light gets in and out. Our “too muchness,” our quirks, our clumsiness? Those are the cracks. They’re what make us relatable, real, and memorable. Clients don’t connect with perfection; they connect with humanity. When we embrace our “flaws,” we give each other permission to do the same. That’s where the magic happens in the messy, unpolished, human moments.

• They’re Our Secret Sauce

What we see as flaws, maybe it’s our intensity, bluntness, or even tendency to overthink … are often the very things that set us apart. 

For example:
Our “overthinking”? That’s our brain’s way of digging deep, seeing patterns, and anticipating needs. It’s what makes us brilliant at holding space for complexity.
Our “too muchness”? That’s our passion, our energy, our ability to light up a room (or a coaching session) and make people feel seen.

Our clumsiness? That’s our vulnerability, our willingness to stumble and laugh it off, which invites others to do the same.

These aren’t weaknesses; they’re our signature moves. The things that make our work and our lives uniquely ours.

But here’s the catch: superpowers need guardrails.

Because here’s what no one tells you about superpowers: they come with boundaries. You can’t just flip a switch and expect your “flaws” to work for you without any effort. That’s like handing a flamethrower to someone and saying, “Have fun!” without teaching them how to aim.

So, what does “using our moles well” look like in practice?

It’s knowing when to dig and when to rest. Moles are brilliant at burrowing, but even they come up for air. If your “superpower” is overthinking, give yourself permission to pause. Set a self-compassion practice. Say, “I’ve dug deep enough for today, and I deserve a nap.” 

It’s asking for consent. Before you share your raw, unfiltered truth, check in: “Is this the right time? The right person? The right amount?” Vulnerability builds trust. Oversharing can erode it, especially with people who don’t know you fully yet. I’ve learned this the hard way, like the time I dumped my entire childhood trauma on a new acquaintance over coffee. Spoiler: they didn’t invite me back. 

It’s noticing the impact, not just the intent. If your “bluntness” leaves people wincing, it’s not about dulling your edge, it’s about sharpening your delivery - so the gap between your intention and impact is aligned. Think scalpel, not sledgehammer. For example, instead of saying, “That idea is terrible,” try, “I love your creativity! In that context, I don’t think it’ll work, what’s another way to look at this?” Same honesty, less collateral damage.

It’s remembering that your mole isn’t an excuse. “I’m just being authentic!” isn’t a free pass to ignore others’ needs. Authenticity with boundaries, that’s the sweet spot. For me, this looks like catching myself when I’m using perfectionism as armor. I ask: “Am I connecting, or am I performing? Am I inviting people in, or am I dumping my garden dirt on their doorstep?” And sometimes, the most embodied, “Lead As You Are” move is to say, “This is mine to hold right now.”

Because here’s the paradox: the same traits that make us powerful can also trip us up if we’re not paying attention. The goal isn’t to bury our moles or let them run wild. It’s to tend to them. To let them dig where it’s fertile, to rest when the soil is hard, and to trust that our worth isn’t tied to how much we reveal or how hard we push. 

We are worthy when we suck. We are worthy when we shine.  

• They Build Trust

People trust those who are real, not those who pretend to be flawless. When we own our “flaws,” we’re basically saying, “I’m human too. I get it.” That’s how we create safe spaces for each other to show up as we are, messy, imperfect, and ready to grow. Our willingness to embrace our moles (or phoenixes, or whatever they are) gives others the courage to embrace theirs. And that’s where transformation begins.

They’re Our Compass

Our “flaws” often point to our deepest values and strengths. 

For example:
If we’re “too sensitive,” it’s likely because we’re deeply empathetic, a superpower for anyone who works with people.
If we’re “too intense,” it’s probably because we care fiercely, and aren’t afraid to go deep.
If we’re “too quirky,” it’s because we think outside the box, which is exactly what’s needed when things feel stuck.
When we stop fighting these traits, we start to see them as guides. They show us where our strengths lie and how we can use them to serve others and ourselves.

They Make Us Resilient

Moles dig through dirt. Phoenixes rise from ashes. Both are symbols of resilience. Our “flaws” are the things we’ve had to work with, adapt to, or overcome. That struggle? It’s what makes us strong, flexible, and creative. It’s what allows us to sit with each other in the dark and say, “I’ve been here too. Let’s dig through this together.”

Because here’s the sweet kicker: when we embrace our “flaws,” we’re not just accepting them, we're wielding them. We’re turning what we once saw as liabilities into our greatest assets. And that’s how we create a ripple effect of confidence, trust, and transformation, whether we’re coaching, leading, or just being ourselves in the world.

So, what’s your “mole”? That thing you’ve been trying to bury, ignore, or erase? Maybe it’s time to stop fighting it. Maybe it’s time to name your business or your next big project after it.

But remember: embrace it, yes. And also? Build a fence around your garden.

In the mess with you, as we are,
Jess

P.S. If you’re a coach who wants to deepen your presence, trust your gut more, and embrace your own “messy magic” with clients, my Coach As You Are - Embodied Group Supervision Program might be your next step. Because sometimes, the things we resist the most are the keys to our best work and you don’t have to figure it out alone.
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