The Locker Room Paradox
- Jen Scharien
- May 12
- 3 min read

In my previous role, I worked in a beautiful downtown office — filled with high-achieving, intelligent, and driven people. The kind of place where you wear your competence like armor and professionalism is the baseline mode of operation. We did important work. We felt important doing it.
And yet, tucked within that same building was a room where all that armor came off — literally. At any moment in the day, I could walk into this space, take off all my clothes, and not only feel completely normal about it, but often find myself chatting openly with others doing the same. That space, of course, was the locker room.
It’s funny when you think about it. The locker room is the only room in a corporate building (or a recreation center, or a gym) where disrobing in front of others is not only accepted, it’s expected. And somehow, it feels safe. In every other part of the building, vulnerability was quietly discouraged — but in here, it was a given.
This is the Locker Room Paradox: the most physically exposed space can often become the most emotionally safe.
Why?
Because there’s a shared, unspoken agreement. Everyone in the locker room is there for a similar reason — to exercise, to refresh, to take care of themselves. There’s mutual understanding, mutual intent, and no hierarchy. Stripped of external signals like title, clothing, or status, we’re just humans. Equal. Present. Real.
And it’s in that environment where I made more genuine connections and some of my favourite conversation than I did anywhere else in the building.
Now imagine applying that same energy to our financial lives.
Most people walk around wearing “financial armor.” We present an image of control, competence, and success — but inside, we might be carrying shame, confusion, fear, or uncertainty about money. Just like at the office, there’s no natural space to talk about it — at least not without fear of judgment.
But what if we could create our own mental locker rooms?
A place where we consciously choose to be honest with ourselves about where we are financially. A judgment-free zone. A space to strip away guilt, shame, or comparison, and instead show up with curiosity, compassion, and the intention to grow.
It starts privately. Just you and your thoughts. Quietly stepping into your own internal locker room to challenge the toxic self-talk and societal noise. To say: “This is where I’m starting, and that’s okay.”
But once we build confidence in that space, we can invite others in — partners, kids, friends, colleagues. Not to perform, not to impress — but to connect. To share real stories, trade lessons, and support one another in pursuit of healthier, more empowered relationships with money.
And when others witness that kind of openness, they’re more likely to build locker rooms of their own.
The takeaway?
True transformation — physical, emotional, or financial — rarely happens in polished boardrooms or curated social media feeds. It happens in the spaces where we feel safe enough to be seen as we truly are.
The locker room reminds us that vulnerability, when shared with trust and intention, isn’t weakness — it’s where real strength, connection, and change begin.
So go ahead. Build your locker room. Step in. And know you’re not alone.
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