Owning the Mirror: What I Learned from the Hardest Feedback of My Career
This post builds on:
Why I Created This Portfolio — where I first shared how I transitioned from behavioral health into project management, and why I chose to document that journey publicly.
This isn’t the post I ever thought I’d write, but it’s the one I needed to.
For the first time in my professional career, I was placed on a Performance Improvement Plan. And then, ultimately, I was terminated.
That’s the reality. But this isn’t a story about blame. It’s a story about ownership.
I value transparency, sometimes to a fault. I’ve always been the type to proactively surface issues, even when I know they might reflect poorly on me. That same instinct is why I’m writing this. Not to relitigate what happened. Not to point fingers. But to share what I’ve learned in hopes that someone else can see themselves in it and grow before the storm hits.
If you’ve ever been where I’ve been or think you might be someday, I want this to leave you with something true, and more importantly, something useful.
The Situation: When the Role Doesn’t Fit
Honestly, I’m still grieving this loss. There’s no tidy way to wrap this up emotionally. But I also feel a fire inside me and it’s not the kind that fuels revenge or blame. It’s the kind that fuels clarity.
In hindsight, I can see it: the role I was in wasn’t for me. And deep down, I think I knew it long before the formal feedback came. You know that feeling when something just doesn’t fit? Like a fish out of water, flopping, exhausted not because you’re weak, but because you’re not in your right environment.
When I was placed on the PIP, all kinds of doubts and old stories came roaring back. The inner critic, the self-blame, the voice that said, 'You failed. Again.' I’ve been on the other side of these plans, as a leader who had to initiate them. Now here I was, on the receiving end.
It shook me. But it also woke me up.
The Weight of Loss: When It Hits All at Once
Just yesterday, I had to say goodbye to my dog, my border collie, my companion, a true member of our family. He was loyal, intuitive, and present through more seasons of my life than most people realize. Euthanizing him was one of the hardest decisions I’ve had to make—and doing it while still processing this professional transition cut deeper than I expected.
Grief has a way of revealing what's been lingering beneath the surface.
Whether it's the loss of a job, the death of a loved one, or the goodbye we never wanted to say to a pet we mourn not just what’s gone, but what that part of our life represented. Stability. Identity. Unconditional presence. The illusion of control. The rhythm we didn’t realize we’d built our days around.
It’s easy to compartmentalize grief in our culture. But the truth is, it all blends together. The personal and professional bleed into each other, and if we’re not careful, we numb ourselves to both.
So I’m not compartmentalizing anymore. I’m naming it: this is a season of loss. And it’s also a season of clarity. Because grief, as heavy as it is, can be a clarifier. It forces us to slow down, to ask deeper questions, to pay attention to what really matters.
The Reflection: What I Found in the Debris
In conversations with my wife (who happens to be a therapist—blessing and curse), friends, mentors, and peers, I was reminded of something simple but powerful:
This situation may shape my path, but it doesn’t define my worth.
I’ve spent years supporting teams through crisis, change, and complex systems. But I wasn’t giving that same care to myself. I realized I had internalized the belief that high output = job security, that being “busy and responsive” was the same as being effective and aligned. That’s a dangerous myth. And I carried it too long.
More than anything, I learned that silence doesn’t mean alignment. Doing the work isn’t enough, you must tell the story of the work. And that leadership isn’t about carrying everything, it’s about managing clarity, risk, and visibility.
What I’ll Do Differently
This wasn’t just a breakdown. It was a blueprint for rebuilding.
- I’ll never assume silence means alignment. I’ll clarify expectations and surface ambiguity early.
- I’ll never confuse task completion with outcome ownership. I’ll lead from purpose, not just execution.
- I’ll never trust perception to “take care of itself.” I’ll communicate my impact; strategically and regularly.
- I’ll never wait for feedback. I’ll invite it, track it, and use it as a mirror, not a judgment.
- I’ll build systems of clarity; documenting decisions, aligning stakeholders, and surfacing risks before they become crises.
What I Take With Me
I’m not proud of the outcome. But I’m proud of what I’ve taken from it.
I leave with more self-awareness, sharper tools, and a renewed commitment to lead with precision and empathy. I’m clearer about the kinds of roles I belong in and the kinds I don’t.
Leadership isn’t about never falling short. It’s about what you do when you do.
For Anyone Walking Through It
If you’re in the middle of a hard season, on a PIP, or feeling out of sync with your role: I want to say this:
You are not your title.
You are not your outcome.
You are what you do next.
Use this moment. Don’t waste it trying to prove your old story. Write a better one.
Have you ever been through a moment like this? What did it teach you?
Let’s stop pretending this stuff doesn’t happen. Let’s normalize growing through it.
From Tactical Executor to Strategic Connector: Bridging Behavioral Health and PgMP Ambitions
Posted by Jermaine Armstead
This post builds on:
Why I Created This Portfolio — where I first shared how I transitioned from behavioral health into project management.
For years, I built my career in behavioral health, boots on the ground, sleeves rolled up, navigating crisis after crisis. I was the go-to for complex cases, new program launches, and high-need populations. My work was real, urgent, and deeply human. In many ways, I was a tactical executor, driving outcomes day by day, intervention by intervention.
But over time, something shifted.
The Turning Point
My first exposure to project management came through necessity, not title. Behavioral health does not wait for someone with a Gantt chart. As I led start-up teams, managed interdepartmental workflows, and aligned community partners around shared goals, I began to recognize the work for what truly was: program management.
That shift came into sharp focus during my time as a Program Supervisor. The role demanded a broader view, one that required aligning resources, guiding teams, and anticipating system-level impacts. It also stirred a deeper reflection: I had a strong desire to grow beyond day-to-day execution and lead at a higher, more strategic level.
From Project Thinking to Program Leadership
In project management, success often comes down to how well you manage scope, time, and budget. In program management, success hinges on your ability to connect the dots across multiple initiatives, navigate interdependencies, and lead with both clarity and context.
Where I once asked, “Is this client stable today?”, I now ask, “Is our system designed to sustain outcomes over time?”
This is the essence of moving from tactical executor to strategic connector:
- Not just meeting deadlines, but aligning outcomes
- Not just managing tasks, but driving momentum
- Not just solving problems, but shaping sustainable solutions
Why PgMP Matters to Me
Pursuing the PgMP isn’t just about credentials, it’s about embracing the mindset and mechanics of systems leadership.
Coming from behavioral health, this shift isn’t always common, but it’s deeply relevant. The work we do on the ground needs to be matched by leadership that understands how to build scalable, sustainable programs. PgMP represents the discipline and structure to do just that connecting mission to impact through strategic execution.
Final Thought: Connecting People, Process, and Purpose
Today, I see myself as a strategic connector, a leader who can bridge direct service with operational systems, and compassion with coordination. I’m still grounded in the mission, but I’m thinking further ahead designing the systems that support long-term success.
If you’ve ever felt called to lead beyond the checklist, to build something bigger than a single project this journey might sound familiar.
If this message resonated with you, I’d love to connect.
Coming soon:
My next post, Owning the Mirror, will explore a key leadership turning point and what I learned from the hardest feedback of my career.
From Case Management to Project Management: Why I Built This Portfolio
Posted by Jermaine Armstead
For a long time, I didn’t think of myself as a project manager.
My background is in behavioral health supporting people, coordinating care, and launching community programs. I knew how to lead teams, get systems moving, and make things work with limited resources. But I didn’t call it “project management.” I just called it my job.
That started to shift when I became a Program Supervisor. I was part of a startup team launching a new program, and I began to notice the structure behind everything the timelines, the workflows, the planning meetings. It looked a lot like what I’d been doing all along. So I started asking questions, reading more, and connecting the dots.
The more I learned, the more I realized:
I’ve been doing project management this whole time. I just didn’t have the language for it.
Colleagues and mentors confirmed it too they said, “Jay, this is project work. You’ve been managing projects for years.”
That realization led me down a new path. I got my PMP®, started preparing for the PgMP®, and began thinking about how I could share my experience in a way that felt real and true to who I am. Not a résumé full of jargon but a clear window into the work I’ve led and the people I’ve served.
That’s why I built this portfolio.
It’s not perfect. It’s not flashy. It’s just me sharing my story, my work, and what I’ve learned along the way. I wanted something that showed the how and the why, not just the job titles and bullet points.
More recently, I’ve been in a period of transition. Being unemployed gave me time to reflect, but also the push I needed to stand out in a meaningful way. This portfolio is part of that, a way to be seen more fully, and to connect with others doing work that matters.
If you’re someone who’s made a pivot, blended different fields, or realized later that your experience had more structure than you thought, I see you. And if you're just curious about where behavioral health, leadership, and project work meet, I’d love to connect.
Thanks for reading.
Jermaine Armstead