With a multifaceted career spanning executive coaching, leadership development, and organizational culture transformation, I have dedicated my professional journey to empowering leaders and organizations to foster environments where everyone feels valued, seen, and engaged. As the CEO of Appreciation at Work, I leverage my expertise to enhance workplace cultures, driving performance, and employee satisfaction through the power of appreciation.

My approach combines strategic leadership with empathetic engagement, offering solutions that are not only effective but sustainable. Through keynote speaking, coaching, and my podcast, Catalytic Leadership, I share insights and strategies that inspire change and promote a culture of appreciation across various industries. My mission is to transform workplaces into spaces where employees thrive and business goals are exceeded.

With a background as a pastor, I bring a unique perspective to leadership and organizational development, emphasizing the importance of integrity, compassion, and community. My work is not just about improving metrics but about creating meaningful, lasting change that positively impacts individuals' lives and organizational health.

If you're looking to elevate your organization's culture, develop impactful leadership skills, or inspire your team to achieve their best, let's connect. Together, we can build an engaging and appreciative workplace where everyone feels empowered to contribute their best work.

️William Attaway

I am a mental health educator and clinician, who works at the intersection of mental health and performance. I specialize in the complicated ways that mental health drives performance and how it shows up at work. I am a former practicing corporate and securities lawyer and hold a Master’s degree in Counseling Psychology from the University of St. Thomas (Minnesota) and a Juris Doctor from the University of Toronto, Faculty of Law. My core values are learning and kindness.

Kara Hardin

I became a coach while I was still practicing law.

It started with a bookshelf when I was articling. A fellow PLTCer (the bar admission course for BC) looked at my books and said, "So, you really like self-help books." I did. I still do. Without realizing it, I was already dabbling.

Over time, I added small things. A coaching course. Then practice conversations with friends of friends. Then clients, scheduled around corporate and securities work (stressful, but fine). Then, graduate school as a non-practicing member of the bar, to: therapist, entrepreneur (with a baddie profile pic), and writer.

No life explosion required, at least not for me. 

I'm a dabbler. That's how I do everything, professionally, creatively, personally. Low stakes entry, no apology, see what happens. It's not the most efficient approach. It's not the boldest. But it's mine, and because it's mine, I actually do it.

Here's what I've learned watching people navigate big changes:

Dabblers need to dabble. 
Planners need to research until they're ready. 
Leapers need to jump and feel alive doing it.

The transition strategy that works isn't the one that looks best on paper. It's not the one the expert (me included) tells you worked for them. 

It's the one that's consistent with who you actually are.

Are you a dabbler, a planner, or a leaper... and are you actually letting yourself grow consistent with that preference?

undefined undefined

ing theabouJust additional thought - it's 

Founder

Registered Psychotherapist

Certified Professional Co-Active Coach

Principal

Mental Health Practitioner

Helping high performers make sense of work | Founder of The Practice Lab | Psychotherapist & Speaker

Three separate private clients have just gone through break-ups and are attending weddings in the upcoming months. Ooooooofffff....


As Strivers, it's easy to start measuring love by milestones and destinations (especially heteronormative ones). In a relationship. Engaged. Married. Expecting. Parents. Active social life. Strong family ties. 

We're good at setting goals and tracking progress. We want to know when something has been achieved, and we apply that same framework to love as if it exists ... or doesn't. 

It's a huge miss. 

The longing and looking for partnership, for friendship, is love. 
Going on date after date, enduring, is love.
The process of deepening a relationship, whether it ends in a traditional union or not, is love. 
The fertility journey, that sure as hell is love. 
The friend you keep texting even though schedules never seem to align, that's love. 
The parent you call on the drive home after a hard day, not because you have anything to say, but just because you need to hear their voice, that's love.

Love lives in us as we show up, as we ache, as we long, and as we accomplish. The difference is standing at the wedding alone, over the negative pregnancy test, rescheduling with the friend again, knowing that it matters. That is love, too. That while you are wanting someone or something, you are not entirely devoid of the love you hope they bring. 

What are you reaching for right now (that deserves to be counted as an expression of love)?

No alternative text description for this image

I was walking downtown with a friend between meetings on a grey, gross day when she said something about her burnout that stopped me in my tracks. 

Literally: I had to stop walking. I put my hands on my temples to help my brain process her clarity. I even took a picture to mark the moment of her genius.

After listening to all the ins and outs of her days (the demands from her teenagers, clients, her emotionally less mature and physically more needy parents, the latest parent council drama at her school, her take on the news), I said offhandedly and sort of reflexively, "I wish you could just take a break from it all."

It was at this point that my friend reorganized my insides. Without skipping a beat, she quipped:

"I don't need a break. What I need is predictability and reliability.

I need to wake up without having to deal with a sick kid, a broke-down subway car, an injured relative, a friend in crisis, a country in crisis, or a client emergency. 

I need a series of days to go simply as I've planned. If I could have predictability, if I could rely on the plans I take pains to carefully make, I would be okay right now."

Brilliant and insightful. The science backs her up. When our days are unpredictable, our nervous system stays on high alert, preventing the very recovery we so desperately need. Sometimes it's not about having less to do, but about having things unfold in straightforward ways that align with the plans we've made.

TLDR: If you are struggling with burnout, consider the amount of unpredictability in your life. How often are you having to revisit logistics that were already settled? Reorganize your day? Know that you make sense.

And... if, like my friend, you are in a stage of life where the unpredictability is, well, predictably present, then here is my question for you (which was the same question I asked my powerful, wise friend): if your days can't be predictable, what is the next best thing?

No One Talks About 42. 

This month, I turn 42. We make such a huge deal about the milestone years, even though in these in-between years, we are still striving and growing. There was so much waiting for me in my 41st year. Here are three things I wish I had known much, much sooner:

1. Hormones matter. 

Mood isn't solely a function of optimizing routine and inputs; it's a physiological calibration. Don't pretend you can make estrogen, progesterone, or testosterone by living the perfect day, each and every day. Gather the data and talk to your doctor, your naturopath, or whichever trained professional you trust to get the support your body needs.

2. Grief is a friend.

Loss is painful and miserable. It's also complex. The longing, intertwined with the love, breaks my heart even as it reinforces it. I didn't expect that when I lost my Dad, I would come to see my grief as a friend... but I have, and I do. It's not the type of friend that makes me feel better or supports me; it's the one that reflects my true heart, no matter what. That reminds me that all there is, all that matters, is love.

3. I can't save the world, or even my little corner of it.

This one is embarrassing to admit. It's not that I had a saviour complex. I just thought I could control far more than I actually could. I thought I could rift ruptured relationships, that I could bridge polarizations close to me, and that I could heal what existed outside me. The reality is, I cannot. I am not in control of how anyone else responds, reacts, feels, chooses, or behaves, and it turns out... that's quite liberating.


What about you? What’s something you’ve learned as you’ve grown up this past year?

Last week, I got an email that made me leap from my chair and punch the air. (It looked as athletic in real life as I am sure it did in my head).

My son and I are reading a James Ponti series, and had put the third and final book (Trapped!) on hold at the library. We had been waiting about a week, and weren't expecting it for another 2 or 3. Then, we got the email. Our book, had arrived.

It got me thinking about all the things we can wait for in life, that make our days more joyful:

The honey cake my mom makes on Rosh Hashanah.

Stevie Wonder (I just called to say I love you) taking over the radio (and my entire being).

The return of the Habs this Thursday. (The next Olympics!)

The visceral feeling of Spring springing, when you realize the days are getting longer and the birds are starting to chirp close by again.

We are living in a world that seems to be removing the wait wherever possible. Everything aspires to be smooth, fast, and on demand. It's so convenient. 

It's also so much work. The pressure to make things happen because we can, or we believe we should. It's absconding us even from sweet, positive anticipation, even when the pleasure of looking forward to something is more intense and sustained than the pleasure of actually experiencing it. What if the wait, sometimes, is the point?

What is something in your life that you love waiting to enjoy?

Author

I've been up and getting myself downstairs by 5:30 a.m. most days, so you know I'm upto something that’s exciting me.

When the house is quiet, I sneak down into my kitchen for a cup of coffee and some pacing. It's too dark to walk outside, and frankly, still way too cold, but I know my brain thinks best when I am walking. So, I embrace it.

I don't bring my computer or a notebook. I pace around my 5x5 kitchen (in what must look like a strange pattern) and take notes on my fridge as my thoughts crystallize, and my ideas form. Just my body and me, pacing, and a magentic whiteboard that was created as a calendar.

It looks unhinged. It works for me, though.

We don't get our best ideas sitting still, staring at a screen, waiting for clarity to arrive. The brain does its most generative work when the body is engaged, whether that's on a walk, in the shower, or in my case, slowly pacing a repetitive loop in a kitchen before the sun rises.

I've learned to stop fighting my idiosyncrasies, to embrace how my mind works, and to start building habits and processes around it. Early mornings. Motion. Bad handwriting on a magnetic surface. 

You probably already know how your mind works best, too. What's your version of pacing the kitchen?

Tough news that I keep on having to learn: 


Despite my best efforts and grandest plans, I will never simply "arrive" at "I've got this all under control."

I can orchestrate the most meticulous plan, execute it to near perfection, and flawlessly handle all the follow-ups, and still... what happens next is not up to me alone. My control is limited... to me.

AND, even I will change. I will grow from trying and showing up how I am. My needs and preferences will evolve. As a result, the point can't be where it all goes. The landing isn't it.

Here's what I'm investing in instead: the trying, and the continuing to try. Not perfectly, but authentically, congruently, and deliberately. The difference between striving automatically for perfection and striving deliberately is the difference between a life you manage by denying yourself and a life you experience by embracing yourself.

I don't know which one you'll pick. But I do know: the choice is yours to make, again and again (and isn't that something pretty remarkable in itself)?

For the first time since I was pregnant, over 9 years ago, I can rely on having regular sleep at night. 

(I am QUITE concerned that by publishing this post, I am jinxing myself. Please know I am invoking all of the superstitious protections you can imagine as you read on.)

For years, I would spontaneously offer anyone in my inner circle this unsolicited statement of being: "I'm just so tired." 

My bones felt weary, my eyelids were constantly heavy, I battled headaches, irritability, lack of patience and perspective. I was exhausted all the time.

It wasn't always my kids or pregnancy that was waking me up and keeping me awake. There was COVID, my dad being sick, Maple (our dog) jumping on and off the bed, work stress, social conundrums, great ideas, fanciful imaginings, and knotty financial concerns. Life was life-ing, and my body wasn't able to reliably shift from alert to restore as a result.

I tried all the hacks. All the routines. Two things helped:

(1) I started to minimize (to the extent I could) the stress my body brought with it to bed. 

When you bring stress to bed, stress keeps you awake. 

It's not just thoughts; it's the stress your body accumulates and carries into bed, from the past hours, days, weeks, months, and years... 

Ways to minimize bringing stress to bed: be a human during the day (laugh, cry, feel the feels, move, listen to music that makes you sway, get lost in a great story, write about what you experience, lift heavy things, allow yourself to metabolize what is hard as you are experiencing it in the ways you know work for you).

(2) My context changed 

My kids got older, COVID got less scary as medical advances surged, my Dad and Dog (sadly, passed from this life), I repaired and parried the social situations that were fraught, and found ways through the financial and work troubles that were loud. 

My context will change again (I see you, Menopause, and yes, you do intimidate me), so it's about leaning into #1 as best I can, when I can.

What do you do to release stress and ready your body for sleep?

PS - I have a great audio I recorded to help you transition from the day, once you are lying on your pillow, and more ideas on metabolizing stress, that I'll link in the comments.

I asked a virtual room full of over 200 ambitious people what they knew they needed to stop doing.

Scrolling on their phone. 
Staying up late. 
Procrastinating. 
Overthinking. 
Using food as comfort. 
Working after dinner. 
Being everything to everyone else.


They knew. And, they were feeling extra motivated to change. The challenge was that they were starting with the wrong approach.

Strivers often treat behaviour change as if it were a discipline problem. We know what we need to do, but lack the discipline to do it.

Here's what we miss: the behaviour is doing something for us. It is meeting a need, serving a function, or helping us.

Staying up late isn't a lack of discipline to go to bed early, it's a desire to unwind and enjoy the only time of the day when you are unbothered. Food as comfort IS COMFORTING. Sleeping in instead of exercising? Maybe you are exhausted and need sleep!

These aren't failures of willpower. They're solutions. Imperfect ones, maybe, but solutions to something real. The challenge is that they exist alongside other needs we have: to move, to feel alive, to create, to connect. 

The challenge isn't a lack of discipline... it's a lack of clarity around which needs we actually want to prioritize.

So here's the road map:

First question: "What do I want to stop doing?"
Next: "What does it do for me?"
Finally: "How can I meet that need instead?"

What's something you keep trying to stop? What might it be doing for you?

And now, for a prodigious list of just some my more memorable mistakes:

A 70-page legal memo for a litigation matter that cited one and only one case (in the very last paragraph, only two lines).

A one-sentence email to opposing counsel that read: "Dear X, Is this how you practice law in the Netherlands? Thanks, Kara"

Booking my family tickets to my graduation. Wrong date. Wrong year.

Introducing myself to the same person. Four times. (This one is so rude and utterly inexcusable. I can say 3 meetings were on Zoom with many others also on, I can't say it changes much though.)

The typos, the post with a grammar mistake, registering the wrong account number, the proposal with a typo, the email to the wrong person...

Don’t even get me started on all the elementary mistakes I made while trying to cut Maple's hair when I didn't know I was pregnant (aka hormonal) and was VERY insistent I could groom her MYSELF. 

We all make mistakes. Constantly. And yet most of us are still shaken, sometimes devastated, when they happen. Even the small ones.

Here's why: mistakes don't just challenge your sense of competence. They confront us with a harsh question: Can I be wrong and still belong?

When your sense of security and belonging are tied to being perceived as capable (by others, whom you cannot control), even a small typo is threatening.

So the next time a mistake has you spiralling, try separating two things:

The fact: what actually happened.

The meaning: what you've decided it says about you.

Then ask yourself: if I knew I was still worthy, capable, and belonged, how would I think about this differently?

What's a mistake you're still being harder on yourself about than the situation deserves?

Anyone who knows me knows I love a three-word mantra.

Part of me.
You make sense.

My latest comes from @Sarah Lewis and her book, The Rise and it goes like this:

"Ever onwards, almost."

As Strivers, we are so good at the ever-onwards part. The get up. The go. The give. The try. The plowing through lists like we are vanquishing villains.

The almost is troubling though. Accepting that there is no complete, no perfect, no done, no over for good... unsettles and frustrates us. Here, Lewis' reviews of the greats brings new perspective: 

Duke Ellington, when asked which composition was his favourite, always answered: "the next one."

Near the end of his life, Michelangelo reportedly said that “painting is dead,” to express his belief that he had not yet achieved what he imagined was possible.

Czesław Miłosz experienced a gnawing sense that he had not fully revealed what he intended after the completion of each book he wrote.

Even the greats experienced the pain of the almost.

What Lewis gives me, and what I keep coming back to, is permission. 

Permission to be a learner even where I'm expected to be the expert. Permission to let my mistakes be evidence of growth, not failure. Permission to find meaning not in what I've achieved, but in the act of trying itself.
To try for the sake of trying is a radical assertion of your aliveness.
Ever-onwards. Almost.

What three words are running on repeat in your head right now?

One of the most useful things I've learned (and certainly one of the most challenging) is that you are not one thing.

You are ambitious and completely depleted. A part of you wants to say yes, and another needs to rest. You have a part that wants to grow and climb, and a part that seeks stability, which gets excited about a nice, boring plateau.

All of the different parts of us belong. Very rarely, if ever, are they satisfied at the same time. 

That means that as Strivers, our work is to make ruthless choices.

To see all the parts of us clearly. 
To decide which ones you're going to prioritize, to try to satisfy. 
And then (and this is the part we skip, don't know how to do, or don't think to do), we need to actively soothe the rest of us. All the other parts that aren't being satisfied need acknowledgement and care.

That looks like acknowledging what you're setting aside ("I care deeply about this"), naming the choice you're making ("and right now I'm choosing this instead"), and affirming that you're still okay ("I'm allowed to decide this. I'm still good").

It's not ruthless because it's cold. It's ruthless because it takes real clarity and real compassion to choose between what matters to us, and then maturity to tend to what you didn't choose.

What part of you have you been ignoring instead of soothing?

In the four corners of my office, I have the privilege of getting the 4,000-foot view on how Strivers across Canada and the US are experiencing any particular day. 

I asked a room full of high-achieving lawyers one question at the start of a session last week. It's the same question I start all my meetings and all my programs with. 

How are you, really?

Overwhelmed. Tired. Stressed. Anxious. Burnt. Frantic. Frazzled. Connected. Calm. Wonderful.

Here's the thing about March: The shine of "new year new you" has worn off (and you are decidedly the same you, only with pant bottoms whose cuffs are soaked through from commuting through slush), perhaps the sun is shining (perhaps not), and the weight of everything (work, family, responsibility, the state of the world) is variable. You get to be and feel all the things you are.

There is something genuinely relieving about knowing that the people around you (who look like they have it all together in their amazing outfits and with their incredible contributions) are limited, complex humans too. 

As we strive into March, how are you, really? (Tag someone if you are curious how they are, really!)

Highlight: having an Oprah moment and surprising 2 attendees with books under their chairs!!!! 

Important discussion topics included: Do you give gifts that are practical (that serve a purpose) or romantic (aim to delight)? 

[No right or wrong answer, it turns out delight lives in the silly, funny preferences we have and the process of sharing them with others.]

Family Law Lawyer at McCarthy Hansen & Company

What a great lunch hour we had with Kara Hardin !
 
Such freedom in joking and reflecting on our daily lives at work, talking to each other about not work, not pushing joy to "when X happens". Felt lighter after.

The Practice Lab - now in U9 Baseball form.....

General Manager / Chief Growth Officer - The Practice Lab. World’s Biggest Candy Cane Ice Cream Fan

So why did you decide to start your business?

It's a question I get asked frequently when chatting with either a prospective client, or someone who is interested in entrepreneurship.

And the answer is pretty simple:

So that I could sponsor my son's U9 House League Baseball team.

Happy to support Toronto Playgrounds Baseball Association this summer, and finally have a reason to toss our logo on some sports swag.

Goooooooooo Team The Practice Lab.....Practicers? Labbers?

Go team.

Highlight: having an Oprah moment and surprising 2 attendees with books under their chairs!!!! 

Follow-up question: do you give gifts that are practical (that serve a purpose) or romantic (aim to delight)? No right or wrong answer, it turns out delight lives in the silly, funny preferences we have.

View company: McCarthy Hansen & Company LLP

Grateful to welcome the incredible Kara Hardin back to our firm, this time exploring how to find delight in complicated times. A timely reminder that even when the world feels heavy, there’s still joy in the work - and in each other!

You can grow up and move out, and still be driven by what you learned was true about you and the world as a child.

Our early years shape the beliefs and behaviours we have about what is responsibility, our worthiness and security. These beliefs and behaviours operate automatically, and largely outside of our awareness, as adults. 

How you handle mistakes
Your willingness to say no (and what happens in your body if you do)
Whether you take a break for lunch
How compelled do you feel to wear make-up?
To go for the promotion?
Accepting feedback
Sharing your ideas
Competing or collaborating
Gossip
Developing new competencies
Articulating and navigating disagreement

Our sense of self grows from our deepest beliefs, which essentially, we learn by osmosis before we have any idea what's happening. It's automatic. 

As always, gratitude to Oliver Burkeman for his incisive articulation.

taplio

The Battle

️William Attaway

Kara Hardin

Followers

Posts

Engagements

Likes

Performance ScoreKara Hardin's LinkedIn Performance

Ready to grow your LinkedIn presence?

taplio

The Battle

️William Attaway

Kara Hardin

Followers

Posts

Engagements

Likes

Performance Score.css-goub6s{font-size:var(--chakra-fontSizes-md);font-weight:500;color:var(--chakra-colors-gray-600);display:block;margin-top:var(--chakra-space-1);}Kara Hardin's LinkedIn Performance

Ready to grow your LinkedIn presence?

Performance ScoreKara Hardin's LinkedIn Performance