Please Mute Your Trauma

Why I Couldn't Stop Asking Questions

Tiffany Collins Episode 3

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0:00 | 6:50

Why I Couldn't Stop Asking Questions

Why do some workplace experiences stay with us long after we've left the building?

Why can one manager's words echo in our minds years later?

Why do some jobs leave us feeling more alive… while others leave us questioning our worth?

In this opening episode, I share the question that has quietly followed me through the Navy, human resources, leadership, government, and now doctoral research—a question that ultimately led to the creation of Please Mute Your Trauma.

This isn't a story about having all the answers.

It's about becoming curious enough to ask better questions.

Together, we'll begin exploring workplace trauma, dignity, meaningful work, leadership, and the human experiences that shape who we become—both inside and outside of work.

If you've ever driven home replaying the same conversation...

Wondered why certain workplace experiences still affect you...

Or questioned whether you were carrying something you never had the words to explain...

You're in the right place.

Pull up a chair.

We've been saving you a seat.

We have a lot to talk about.

Work becomes meaningful when dignity is protected.

We want to hear from you!

If you've ever sat through a meeting wondering whether anyone was listening, received a pizza party instead of support, or been told to "bring your whole self to work" only to discover there were terms and conditions attached, this episode is for you.

Learn more about the show and connect with Tiffany at:

www.pleasemuteyourtrauma.com

Because work becomes meaningful when dignity is protected.

Tiffany Collins

Have you ever noticed that some jobs stay with you long after you've left them? Not because you miss them, not because they were wonderful, but because something happened there, and somehow you're still carrying it. Maybe it was one conversation, one performance review, one leader, one sentence you can still hear years later. Or maybe nothing dramatic happened at all. Maybe it was just a thousand tiny moments, less confidence, a little more silence, a little more apologizing, more shrinking until one day you didn't recognize the person. Work had quietly taught you to become I've spent years asking myself why. Why do some workplaces experiences stay with us long after we've left the building? Why can one manager's voice still echo in our minds years later? Why do some jobs leave us feeling more alive, while others leave us question our value? Those questions followed me everywhere. They followed me through the Navy, through human resources, through government, through leadership, through graduate school, and into my doctoral research, which by the way, is a very expensive way to keep asking why. At first, I thought I was studying organizations, and then I thought I was studying leadership And then I thought I was studying trauma, but somewhere along the way, I realized I was studying people. More specifically, what happens when people forget that organizations are made of human beings. Because no matter where I went, different industries, different leaders, different organizations, I kept hearing the same stories. People weren't just leaving jobs, they were leaving carrying something: a story, a belief, a fear, a wound, a question, and sometimes they were carrying hope. Sometimes they were carrying disappointment Sometimes they were carrying something they didn't even have the words for. And that fascinated me because we've become really good at measuring almost everything within a workplace, productivity, engagement, performance, turnover, profit, efficiency. We have dashboards and metrics, KPIs, and most organizations have entire departments dedicated to measuring performance. But somehow we almost never ask, "What happened to the human being?" Can I tell you something? I don't think most people are looking for a perfect job. I think they're looking for a place where they don't have to leave pieces of themselves behind just to belong And maybe that's why I couldn't stop asking questions, because I kept on meeting incredibly capable people who slowly started believing that they weren't enough. Not because they weren't talented, and not because they weren't hardworking, but because somewhere, someone or something had convinced them they needed to become smaller just to succeed I know what it's like to question yourself after a conversation, to replay a meeting on the drive home, to wonder, "Was it me? Should I have said that differently? Maybe I'm overreacting. Do I just need a thicker skin?" Have you ever noticed how quickly we question ourselves? And before long, we question the environment. That question has changed everything for me. Because what if you weren't too sensitive? What if you were paying attention? What if that feeling you couldn't explain was trying to tell you something very important? That's when I realized I wasn't interested in workplace culture or leadership or trauma. I was interested in dignity because dignity sits underneath all of it. When dignity is protected, people flourish. When dignity is violated, people don't just leave organizations. Sometimes they leave doubting themselves. And I don't think we talk about this nearly enough, so I started this podcast, not because I have all the answers, because honestly, I definitely don't. The longer I study this, the more questions I seem to have. But I do know this: the conversations we're avoiding are often the ones we need the most. This podcast isn't about blaming organizations. It's not a podcast about blaming leaders. It's honestly not even a podcast about trauma. It's a podcast about understanding ourselves, about giving language to experiences we've quietly carried for years, about asking better questions, about becoming curious again, about realizing maybe we weren't the problem we thought we were Some episodes are gonna make you laugh. Some might make you feel really uncomfortable. Some will challenge ideas you've carried for years. But most importantly, I hope all of them help you feel a little less alone. Because if there's one thing I've learned, it's this: healing often begins the moment we realize we're not the only ones asking the question. So pull up a chair. We've been saving you a seat. We have a lot to talk about. Welcome to Please Meet Your Trauma. I'm Tiffany Collins. I'm curious by nature, slightly allergic to corporate buzzwords, and always asking why. Because I believe organizations don't have a people problem. They have a humanity problem. And I believe work becomes meaningful when dignity is protected, and that includes protecting your own