Whenever a situation gets awkward — i.e., involves negative emotions — my dad always calls it “icky.”

I love that term. It encapsulates the feeling perfectly. It’s the same feeling you get when you sneeze and get mucus on yourself — “Gross. Get this off me, now.”

I don’t know if it’s the culture of the United States or the way that we’re brought up, but a lot of people I know have an “icky” attitude when it comes to any emotion, positive or negative. It’s a recurring theme in my work because it frustrates the hell out of me.

I get why people think emotions are icky. I think they’re icky, too! But I try hard to confront that ickiness. When I do, I find it hard to breathe. I get lightheaded and start seeing spots. My heart races.

Needless to say, it’s not a fun place. But it’s a place we all need to go, if we ever want to communicate and get through to one another.

I often compare my last job to my current one, because I enjoy my current one a lot more. The people at Broadridge are generally more honest with each other, from the start.

At J.P. Morgan, the culture was the opposite of Broadridge’s. It was high-class — i.e., overwhelmingly white, uptight, and controlled. I liken it to going to Mass — every Mass is the same — you’re forced to sit up and shut up.

That’s not my style. Lately, I’m finding out who I truly am, and the person I’ve found is professional, but opinionated. Respectful, but passionate. Principled, but fair.

Essentially, my style is, for the most part, balanced. That’s not to say that the culture and style of J.P. Morgan was all bad — it taught me to care more about my appearance and how I’m perceived, which is important. But what’s more important to me is being true to my real, icky self.

We’re all made of the same stuff. We differ, also, but there’s a reason why Grey’s Anatomy has only one set of parts in it. Denying our sameness, or similarity, is denying our humanity. So, trust in ickiness — you’ll find that others are just as icky, and you’ll feel a little less alone.