Before You Call Them Your Mentor

… Read This

Mentorship gets romanticized a lot. We picture it like a scene from a movie: someone older, wiser, and better connected sees something in you, something sharp, promising, a little raw. They take you under their wing. They offer you introductions, shortcuts, safety nets. They turn your potential into progress, your chaos into clarity.

And yes, sometimes that happens. When it does, it’s transformative.

But here’s what we don’t say out loud: some mentors will mess you up.

Not always out of cruelty, sometimes out of carelessness. Sometimes because they’re more interested in being admired than in being helpful. Sometimes because they haven’t dealt with their own wounds and end up projecting them onto you. Sometimes because they confuse control for guidance. And sometimes, because they simply don’t have the time or skill to support someone else without centering themselves.

What should’ve been a ladder becomes a leash. And you don’t even realize it until you find yourself shrinking to stay in their good books. Editing your voice to match their tone. Questioning your wins. Waiting for approval that never really comes.

Instead of becoming a launchpad, the relationship becomes a liability.

And it’s not just anecdotal. A growing body of research in organizational psychology and career development suggests that negative mentoring experiences can lead to more stress, decreased job satisfaction, reduced creativity, and a reluctance to seek help again in the future. Simply put: a bad mentor doesn’t just delay your growth. They quietly rewrite how you see yourself.

That’s the kind of cost you don’t find in motivational LinkedIn posts.

So let’s stop glorifying mentorship as a universally good thing. It’s not. It’s a high-stakes relationship. One that has the power to influence how you see your own potential—and whether you trust yourself to live up to it.

We need to start talking not just about how to find mentors, but how to evaluate, sustain, and if needed, leave them.

Because a mentor isn’t someone who makes you feel indebted to their success.

A mentor is someone who makes you feel more capable of building your own.

What Happens When Mentorship Goes Wrong

A bad mentor can quietly, sometimes dramatically, wreck your momentum.

We often think of bad bosses as the major risk in early careers. But bad mentors are sneakier. They're often admired, respected, and well-networked. Which means when they mishandle you, you doubt yourself, not them. That doubt seeps in slowly: into your work, your instincts, your sense of what’s possible.

It starts subtly. You’re excited to meet them, grateful they agreed to help. At first, you’re eager. You show up prepared. You follow their advice. But then the cracks begin.

Maybe they say they’ll introduce you to someone, then ghost the follow-up. Maybe they mock your startup idea in a room full of people. Maybe they give feedback that feels less like sharpening and more like shredding. Maybe they constantly edit your words until you can’t recognize your own voice. You start second-guessing the very instincts that got you this far.

Mentorship is supposed to be a space where you can grow safely. But when it fails, it becomes a mindfuck.

The damage isn’t just professional. It’s personal.

You leave meetings feeling like you messed up even if you didn’t. You start withholding parts of yourself. You shrink in your own story. And worst of all? You convince yourself it’s all part of “tough love.”

It’s not.

Tough love still has love in it. What you’re dealing with is neglect. Or ego. Or sometimes even emotional manipulation wrapped in the language of growth.

Career stagnation (or outright sabotage)

You thought they’d open doors. Instead, they block them.

You ask to attend an event, suddenly your “priorities are misplaced.” You want feedback, they give you vague shrugs or hyper-critical rewrites that leave you confused. You pitch an idea, they raise an eyebrow and say, “That’s not how it’s done.”

And when you hesitate or fail to hit a goal, it’s your fault, of course. Because you “weren’t ready.” That becomes the catch-all explanation for every lost opportunity. Not their lack of support, but your alleged unreadiness.

This form of sabotage is especially insidious because it masquerades as care. It sounds like mentorship. But it acts like gatekeeping.

Emotional whiplash and self-doubt

One week, they call you brilliant. The next, they barely remember what you do. You never know which version of them you’re going to get.

That inconsistency chips away at you.

Mentorship sessions should leave you feeling more grounded, more clear. Instead, you spiral. You start to pre-edit everything before you say it. You start thinking twice before sharing your wins. You start walking on eggshells.

And for women, especially who are already conditioned to be deferential, it’s easy to mistake this emotional instability for normalcy. We tell ourselves to be “grateful for access.” We internalize their dismissal. We call the chaos feedback. We call the discomfort growth.

But it’s not growth if it’s killing your confidence.

You’re doing emotional labor, not learning

If you’re spending more time preparing for the conversation than actually learning in it, something’s off.

If you’re spending more energy decoding their tone than discussing your trajectory, something’s off.

If they cancel on you five times in a row but expect you to keep showing up with perfect notes and perfect questions? Something’s off.

Mentorship should feel like leverage, a boost, a push in the right direction. When it becomes unpaid emotional labor where you’re constantly managing their moods, their schedule, their insecurities, it’s no longer mentorship. It’s performance. It’s caretaking. And it’s exhausting.

Now imagine where that energy could be going instead: building your ideas, honing your craft, finding someone who gets you. That’s the real cost here, not just what the mentorship takes, but what it keeps you from doing.

You lose trust in others and in yourself

Once you’ve been burned, you flinch.

You stop reaching out. You assume every future mentor will be the same. You keep quiet in rooms where you used to ask for advice. And worst of all, you start to believe maybe you’re just “difficult to mentor.”

You’re not.

You just entered a power dynamic that didn’t prioritize your growth.

For people from underrepresented communities especially women, queer folks, and first-gen professionals, the stakes are even higher. We’re often taught to be grateful for any opportunity. So we stay. Even when it hurts. Even when it no longer serves us. We convince ourselves we’re just not ready, not polished, not deserving.

If you’re stuck in a mentorship that feels draining, here’s what to do next:

• Start journaling after each interaction. One line: “Do I feel more like myself after this, or less?” Patterns emerge quickly.

• Make a list of what you actually need from a mentor right now. Compare that to what you're receiving.

• Have one honest conversation: “Here’s where I’m feeling stuck. Can we talk about what’s working and what’s not?”

• And if that feels impossible? That’s your clarity. Time to plan your exit.

How to Vet a Mentor Before You Get Burned

(Think of it like dating, but with your career on the line.)

Most people don’t pick a mentor. They get picked. Someone notices them. Offers a kind word. Takes an interest. And we’re so eager, so ready to feel chosen, that we mistake attention for alignment.

Unfortunately, mentorship is not a free lunch. It’s not just vibes and good intentions. It’s a real relationship with asymmetric power and very real consequences. And like any high-stakes relationship, if you don’t go in with clarity and self-respect, you’ll come out with confusion and regret.

We don't talk enough about that. We don’t teach people how to vet mentors. We just say, “Find one.” As if any person with a fancy job title and a fondness for giving advice is automatically going to be good for your growth.

Reality check: they won’t be.

So how do you choose wisely? You vet them. Actively. Intentionally. Repeatedly.

And yes, it might feel awkward. You might feel like you’re being “too intense” or “too picky.” But ask yourself this: would you hand over the keys to your house because someone said they “care a lot about homes”? No. You’d check if they have good intentions, yes, but also whether they know how to treat what matters to you with respect.

That’s what vetting is. It’s not about being paranoid. It’s about protecting your future.

Step 1: Know what you’re looking for

This is where most people mess up. They don’t define their needs. They just say: “I want a mentor.”

But what does that actually mean?

• Are you looking for tactical support? (“I want to break into product marketing.”)

• Strategic sparring? (“I’m building something and need a thought partner.”)

• Emotional grounding? (“I need someone to remind me I’m not crazy.”)

• Network expansion? (“I need help meeting investors in climate tech.”)

Different mentors serve different roles. The person who helped you rebuild after burnout may not be the one who’ll get you that promotion. The more precise your need, the higher your odds of finding someone who actually fits it.

Step 2: Look beyond credentials

A great mentor isn’t necessarily the person with the biggest title or the flashiest LinkedIn bio. In fact, those people often have the least time and the most ego.

The real test? Their track record with other humans.

Ask them, or mutual connections:

• Who have they mentored before?

• What do those mentees say?

• Do they adapt their guidance or copy-paste advice from their own playbook?

• Do they speak in stories or listen in silence?

• Do they create space for your questions, or fill it with their answers?

If someone “loves mentoring” but can’t name a single mentee? Red flag.

If someone acts like your request for clarity is an insult? Red flag.

If someone constantly says, “Well, when I was your age…” without asking about your context? Red flag.

Great mentors know that mentorship is about you, not a nostalgic rerun of their past.

Step 3: Watch their energy, not just their words

This part is harder to quantify, but your gut knows.

Pay attention to how they make you feel. After your first conversation, do you feel seen? Heard? Challenged in a way that excites you? Or do you feel like you were in an audition?

Ask yourself:

• Do they ask good questions, or just deliver monologues?

• Do they interrupt? Do they actually listen?

• Do they seem to respect your time and goals, or are they subtly trying to reshape them?

• Do they light up when you talk about your dreams or look skeptical?

Energy doesn’t lie. And mismatched values, even in the presence of good intentions, can lead to mentorships that feel stifling, not supportive.

Step 4: Set expectations from day one

This is the most underrated skill in the mentorship game: learning how to ask upfront, kindly but clearly, “What does success in this relationship look like to you?”

Questions you should ask early on:

• How often do you usually meet with mentees?

• What kind of support do you enjoy giving?

• What do you expect from someone you mentor?

• Can you tell me about a mentorship you’re proud of?

• What are your boundaries?

Their answers will tell you everything. Not just about their capacity, but about their style.

Are they reactive or intentional? Do they seem excited or burdened? Are they open or defensive?

If they dodge the questions, or make you feel like asking them is weird, that’s not mentorship. That’s hierarchy, and it doesn’t make space for growth.

Before asking someone to be your mentor:

1. Write down exactly what kind of support you want (e.g., industry-specific insight, feedback, introductions).

2. Research their past mentees and ask around if you have mutuals.

3. Have a 30-minute exploratory call. Don’t assume mentorship, treat it like a vibe check.

4. After that call, answer one question: “Do I feel more myself around them, or less?”

That’s your sign.

Red Flags to Watch For

(You don’t owe anyone access to your ambition.)

Most toxic mentorships don’t start toxic.

They start with excitement. Gratitude. A LinkedIn message. A serendipitous coffee. A moment of feeling “seen.”

But slowly something shifts. A strange comment here. An offhand joke there. A flake. A power play. A lingering discomfort that you can’t quite name because you’re too busy being grateful.

Gratitude can become a muzzle. It keeps you quiet, even when something feels off. It teaches you to explain things away and to give more chances than are earned.

But mentorship is a relationship. If you wouldn’t date someone who made you feel icky, invisible, or diminished, don’t let someone mentor you that way either.

Here’s what to clock before you commit.

They blur boundaries early and often

Mentorship is professional first. If someone suggests meeting at odd hours in overly intimate settings (“Let’s grab wine at my place” or “Come by my hotel lobby late tonight”), that’s not quirky. That’s a test.

So is excessive personal disclosure early on: venting about their divorce in your first meeting, trauma-dumping, or turning the conversation into therapy for them.

Especially for women and queer folks, these boundary violations are often normalized under the guise of “closeness.” But closeness without consent is just emotional overreach.

They talk. A lot. About themselves.

Every mentor gets to tell war stories. That’s part of the deal. But if every conversation becomes a TED Talk about their life, their career, their trauma, pause.

You’re not a podcast audience. You’re not an intern from 2008. You’re here to grow, not to clap.

If they don’t ask about your context, your goals, your values, you’re just a receptacle for their vanity.

And if you interrupt with a thought and they bristle, correct you harshly, or visibly check out? That’s not someone you want shaping your voice.

They gossip or violate confidentiality

The first time they say, “Don’t tell anyone I told you this, but X is struggling,” assume one thing: your secrets aren’t safe either.

Mentorship is built on trust. If they can’t hold someone else’s story with integrity, they won’t hold yours either.

This behavior often masquerades as insider access. “I know the real story.” “Here’s the gossip you didn’t hear.” It feels thrilling until you realize you’re just the next name in rotation.

A good mentor protects your reputation. A bad one builds their ego by trading it.

Their advice is really about them

Let’s say you say, “I want to switch into VC.” And their response is, “Ugh, I hated working in venture. It’s so toxic.” Full stop.

That’s not advice. That’s projection.

Bad mentors don’t listen to what you want. They try to steer you toward what they think you should want or away from what they didn’t have the courage to pursue themselves.

They treat your decisions like opportunities to relive their regrets. And if you succeed on a path they gave up on? They’ll find a way to undermine it.

You need someone who sees your story clearly, not someone trying to rewrite it as a sequel to their own.

Their feedback is mean, not meaningful

Good mentors will challenge you. But challenge is not cruelty.

If their criticism makes you feel small, stupid, or ashamed, that’s classic emotional erosion.

Look out for phrases like:

• “You’re just not ready.”

• “This would never work in the real world.”

• “You’re overthinking it. Again.”

• “Wow, okay. That’s… interesting.”

Even if they follow it with a smile or say they’re “just being honest,” notice how you feel afterward.

Tough love includes the love part. Otherwise, it’s just tough. And over time, it makes you afraid to take risks, afraid to be seen, afraid to speak.

That’s dehumanizing.

They treat your time like it doesn’t matter

Mentorship doesn’t have to be frequent. But it does have to be intentional.

If they:

• Constantly cancel last-minute,

• Forget what you talked about every single time,

• Miss scheduled meetings repeatedly,

• Show up distracted or irritated every time…

They’re not too busy. They’re disrespecting the dynamic.

And if you find yourself sending five reminders, rearranging your whole schedule, prepping like a job interview only to be ghosted, step back.

You are not a mentee. You’re unpaid admin.

You feel like you’re being tolerated, not invested in

There’s a difference between someone helping you because they want to and someone helping you because they feel obligated to.

The former creates momentum. The latter creates resentment.

If you find yourself over-performing to earn their attention, or dialing your personality down to avoid offending their sensibilities, that’s not mentorship. That’s a performance.

And one-sided performances never build real trust.

Here’s a simple 3-step gut check:

1. After every meeting, ask yourself: “Do I feel clearer or cloudier?”

2. Write down what’s actually changed for you since the mentorship began. Be honest.

3. Ask yourself: “If a friend described this same dynamic, what would I tell them?”

Then follow your own advice.

How to Build a Healthy Mentorship

(It’s not magic. It’s maintenance.)

So let’s say you’ve found someone sharp. Someone kind. Someone who gets it and gets you. Someone whose advice lands, whose feedback lifts, and whose belief in you doesn’t feel conditional on performance.

Amazing.

But now comes the real work.

Because mentorship isn’t a one-time favor. It’s a dynamic. And like any dynamic, it either deepens or drifts. Left unmanaged, even the best mentorship can lose shape. It’s not enough to have the right mentor, you have to co-create the right rhythm.

A healthy mentorship is not a hierarchy. It’s not obedience. It’s not hero-worship.

It’s a partnership. And it only works when both people bring clarity, respect, and energy to the table.

Here’s how to make it last and make it matter.

Lead with mutual respect, not reverence

A mentor isn’t a guru. They’re a guide.

Respect their time, yes, but respect your own too. You’re not there to perform for them. You’re there to grow with them. That means showing up prepared but also speaking up when things aren’t working. That means valuing their experience, but not outsourcing your decisions.

If the relationship feels like a one-way flow of advice with no room for challenge, you’re not a mentee, you’re a disciple.

Healthy mentorship happens when both people can say: “Here’s what I see. What do you see?”

Be clear about your goals (and revisit them often)

“I want to grow” is too vague. So is “I want to learn.”

Instead, say:

• “I want to make a career shift into design within 6 months.”

• “I’m trying to land a promotion and need help with salary negotiation.”

• “I’m working on a product idea and need strategic sparring.”

Specificity does two things: it gives your mentor something to work with, and it keeps you both accountable.

Without it, your conversations will spiral into generalities and mutual confusion. You’ll both end up asking, “So… what should we talk about?” and eventually stop meeting altogether.

Set goals. Break them into steps. Review progress together.

Mentorship is not therapy.

Keep boundaries sacred

It’s tempting to let mentorship become friendship. And sometimes, it does.

But at the start, boundaries keep things clean. Clear roles make growth possible.

That means:

• No late-night venting unless explicitly agreed upon.

• No emotional labor (you’re not their therapist).

• No over-dependence (you can and should have other sounding boards).

Boundaries are not walls. They’re structure. They let you both show up with integrity and without resentment.

If your mentor starts treating you like their confidante, their therapist, or their sounding board for unresolved ex-boss trauma… it’s time to re-align.

Communicate like a grown-ass professional

Be honest when something’s unclear. Ask when you’re stuck. Follow up after meetings. Thank them. Loop them in when things go well.

And if you can’t implement their advice, say why.

You’re not a sponge. You’re a human being with agency. Great mentors appreciate mentees who treat them like partners, not parents.

And mentors should be giving you feedback that’s actionable, not just opinionated.

“I don’t like this” is not feedback. “Here’s what’s unclear, and here’s how you might sharpen it” is.

A good rule of thumb: If you’re both afraid of being honest, the relationship isn’t real yet.

Add structure and make it visible

Use tools to keep the relationship grounded.

Try:

• A shared doc with meeting notes, goals, and next steps.

• A recurring calendar check-in (even quarterly is fine).

• A 3-month reflection ritual: “What’s working? What’s not?”

Mentorship isn’t sacred. It’s operational. The more visible your progress is to both parties, the more invested they’ll stay.

Make it reciprocal

No, you’re not expected to give your mentor a career boost. But relationships grow on shared energy.

So:

• Send them articles they might enjoy.

• Make intros when relevant.

• Celebrate their wins.

• Check in, even when you don’t “need” anything.

• Show them that you see them as a person, not just a stepping stone.

Mentors aren’t vending machines. They’re people. And like all people, they thrive when they feel appreciated, not extracted from.

Don’t treat them like your everything

You need more than one mentor. In fact, you should aim for a personal board of directors: people who support you across different axes.

• One for tactical support.

• One for emotional sanity.

• One for strategic sparring.

• One who just reminds you you’re not crazy.

When you put all your needs on one person, you give them too much power, and set yourself up for disappointment.

Diversify your counsel. Protect your perspective.

Create a “Mentorship Operating Manual” for yourself:

1. What do I want help with?

2. What kind of mentor energy helps me thrive?

3. How do I want to structure our check-ins?

4. What are my boundaries?

5. How will I show up with consistency and care?

Share it with your mentor, or even just use it privately to stay intentional. You’ll be surprised how much clarity that brings.

When to Walk Away

(Because staying stuck isn’t loyalty, it’s self-abandonment.)

Here’s the hardest truth about mentorship: not all of them are meant to last.

Some mentorships come into your life like a spark- right place, right time, right person. They give you exactly what you need for that season. And then? That season ends. You evolve. Your needs shift. Their capacity changes. But no one knows how to say, “Thank you, and now, I need to grow elsewhere.”

So instead, you stay.

You drag yourself to meetings that drain you. You rehearse conversations that never go the way you want. You dread check-ins. You perform gratitude when all you feel is dread.

This is where most mentorships rot: in the gap between politeness and honesty.

Staying in a bad mentorship out of guilt isn’t a virtue. It’s a form of self-abandonment. It means prioritizing someone else’s comfort over your own clarity. And over time, it chips away at the exact thing mentorship is supposed to nurture: your sense of self.

If you're constantly wondering whether you're being ungrateful, ask yourself this:
Is this mentorship helping me grow or just helping me stay small?

If it’s the latter, here’s your permission slip to walk away.

Sign #1: You’ve stopped learning or even talking

Some mentorships fizzle. The check-ins get shorter. The conversations loop. The energy just… evaporates.

You’re talking about the same problem for the sixth month in a row. You’re leaving meetings with the same confusion you entered with. You’re going through the motions, but nothing’s moving.

This is stagnation dressed as continuity. You’re not being mentored. You’re being placated.

And that’s not fair to you or to them.

Sign #2: The fit is just… off

Not all misalignment is toxic. Sometimes, it’s just incompatibility.

You’re bold; they’re cautious.
You want momentum; they want to “sit with it.”
You value risk; they obsess over safety.
You’re building something new; they only know how to scale something old.

These differences matter, not because they’re dealbreakers, but because they shape the kind of advice you’ll get. If your mentor can’t step out of their own framework, you’ll be stuck trying to translate mismatched values into meaningful action.

Mentorship isn’t mimicry. You don’t have to become a clone of your mentor. But if every conversation feels like a tug-of-war instead of a co-navigation, you’re probably with the wrong person.

Sign #3: One (or both) of you has mentally checked out

Life happens. People get busy. Energy wanes. But if your mentor keeps rescheduling, forgetting, or rushing through sessions, and you find yourself secretly relieved when they do, it’s a signal.

And if you are the one ghosting, dodging, or zoning out, that’s also a signal.

You don’t have to force a connection just because it once worked. You’re allowed to outgrow things.

Relationships require intention. If the intention is gone, the mentorship is too.

Sign #4: You leave feeling worse, not better

This is the ultimate gut check.

After each conversation, do you feel:

• Energized or exhausted?

• Sharper or more self-critical?

• Braver or smaller?

If you consistently leave feeling embarrassed, unseen, or confused, please leave. And no matter how prestigious the mentor, how generous the opportunity, or how much time you’ve already invested, it’s not worth it if you’re losing yourself to stay in it.

Sign #5: They cross a line

This is non-negotiable.

If your mentor:

• Breaks your confidentiality,

• Flirts or makes you uncomfortable,

• Takes credit for your work,

• Uses guilt or manipulation to control your decisions,

• Weaponizes your vulnerability…

That is not a grey area. That is abuse of power. And you do not owe them politeness, access, or ongoing engagement.

You owe yourself safety.

Get out. Cleanly. Quickly. And if needed, escalate.

Sign #6: You’ve simply outgrown the relationship

This one’s often overlooked because it doesn’t come with drama. No betrayal. No tension. Just… evolution.

You got what you needed. You changed. You’re stepping into new territory, and their map no longer fits.

Endings don’t always need villains. Sometimes, they just need honesty.

Here’s a script to try on for size:

“I’ve really valued our time together and learned so much. As I shift into a new chapter of work, I’m finding that I need a different kind of support. I want to be respectful of your time and energy, so I’d love to wrap up our mentorship phase and stay in touch in a more informal way moving forward.”

Short. Kind. Clear. You’re allowed to close a chapter without burning a bridge.

Ending a Mentorship With Grace (and Guts)

(It’s not a breakup. It’s a graduation.)

Ending a mentorship is awkward.

Even when it’s the right call. Even when things have fizzled out. Even when every cell in your body knows it’s time. Why? Because we’re wired to want to preserve relationships, especially those we’re “supposed” to be grateful for.

There’s also the fear:

• What if they take it personally?

• What if they badmouth me to others?

• What if I need them later?

So we stall. We ghost. We disengage quietly, hoping the relationship dies a natural death. But here’s the problem: unclear exits create unclear reputations. And worse, they leave you with unfinished emotional homework.

A graceful exit is not about being dramatic. It’s about being clear, clean, and kind. It protects your integrity and leaves the door open for closure, for reconnection, or even for future collaboration.

Here’s how to do it well.

1. Use a time-based reason if you can

If you had the foresight to set a timeline up front (e.g., “Let’s do a 6-month mentorship and reassess”), that’s your golden parachute.

“As we’re coming up on the six-month mark, I’ve been reflecting on what I’ve learned and where I’m headed next. I’d love to wrap up with a final conversation and express my thanks.”

Simple. Non-confrontational. Built-in exit ramp.

Didn’t set a timeline? You can still frame it that way:

“We’ve been working together for a while now, and I’ve been thinking about how my goals have evolved. I feel like I’m stepping into a new phase of growth and want to realign the kind of support I seek going forward.”

You’re not burning the bridge. You’re just taking a new route.

2. Be honest, but don’t spill every grievance

You don’t need to list all your reasons, especially if the mentorship was mismatched, not malicious.

Focus on your needs, not their failures. If you do want to give feedback, keep it constructive and centered on impact, not intent.

Try:

“I’ve realized I need more tactical feedback than we’ve been able to cover together.”
“I’ve noticed I respond best to a coaching style that’s more hands-on.”
“I’m feeling the need for guidance in a different area.”

If it was toxic, you don’t owe them closure. You owe yourself protection. A single line is enough:

“I’ve decided to end our mentorship effective immediately. I appreciate your time and wish you all the best.”

That’s it. You do not need to respond to follow-ups. You do not need to elaborate. No is a complete sentence.

3. Offer a path forward (if you want one)

Not all mentorships need to end in full disconnection. Sometimes, they shift into looser forms: informal check-ins, warm acquaintanceship, even future collaborators.

If that feels right, say so:

“I’d love to stay in touch more informally and keep you posted on my journey. Please don’t hesitate to reach out if there’s ever something I can support you with as well.”

It signals respect without obligation.

But if you don’t want ongoing contact, you don’t need to offer it. “Thank you for your time and insight over the past few months” is enough.

4. Wrap it up with intentional reflection

If you’re planning one final conversation or note, use it well.

• Thank them for something specific: “I especially appreciated the way you helped me think through my career switch.”

• Share a highlight or two: “Your advice helped me land my first client, and I won’t forget that.”

• Mention what’s next: “I’m starting a new role that pushes me into new territory, and I’m excited to grow in fresh ways.”

End with a clean, thoughtful bow. People remember how you leave far more than how you begin.

5. If it was harmful, protect yourself

Sometimes, exits aren’t graceful. They’re necessary. And they come with risk.

If your mentor:

• Violated your trust

• Took advantage of you

• Made you feel unsafe or exploited you in any way

Document everything. Inform a third party if relevant (HR, program manager, founder network). Exit cleanly. Do not try to get “closure.” Do not try to educate them. Do not put yourself in harm’s way to preserve their feelings.

You don’t need their blessing to leave. You don’t need their validation to recover. You just need to reclaim your space.

Here’s a quick exit checklist:
- Revisit your mentorship goals: are they still being met?
- Draft your exit message in writing, and edit it until it feels calm and true.
- Decide: do I want to leave the door open, or not?
- Plan a final conversation only if you feel safe and willing.
- After it’s done, write down 3 things you learned from the experience. Even the tough ones.

Every exit is a new beginning. Don’t drag dead mentorships into your next chapter.

You Don’t Owe Anyone Your Shrinking

(Mentorship should be a ladder, not a leash.)

Let’s end where we began: with the myth of mentorship as an automatic good.

The world loves a good mentor-mentee story. The wise elder. The scrappy beginner. The long emails. The late-night coffees. The transformation. The success.

But the stories we don’t tell, the ones that happen in whispers, in bathroom stalls, in sleepless nights of overthinking, are just as important.

Stories where mentorship became manipulation.
Where generosity came with strings.
Where feedback cut deeper than it needed to.
Where someone’s success story was used to flatten yours.
Where ambition was tolerated only in controlled doses.

These stories matter. Because they remind us: not all mentorship is good mentorship. And not all mentors deserve to shape your becoming.

So let’s say this plainly, for anyone who’s ever felt too scared to walk away:

You don’t owe anyone your silence.
You don’t owe anyone your smaller self.
You don’t owe anyone continued access just because they were helpful once.
You don’t owe anyone the right to name your limits for you.
You don’t owe anyone your shrinking, especially not in the name of growth.

A good mentor expands you.
They don’t compete with your shine, they help you understand how to use it.
They don’t pull rank, they share tools.
They don’t turn you into a reflection of themselves, they help you stand taller in your own story.

A good mentor sees your potential, yes.
But more than that, they see your power and trust you to use it, even if your way looks different from theirs.

So if you’re in a mentorship that feels confusing, draining, or limiting: you’re not broken.
You’re not “hard to mentor.”
You’re just in the wrong dynamic. And you’re allowed to change it.

You’re allowed to expect more.
You’re allowed to protect your space.
You’re allowed to build relationships rooted in mutual respect, not blind deference.
You’re allowed to leave.

And when you find the right mentor, one who sharpens your thinking, grounds your heart, and reflects your courage back at you until you start believing it, too, you’ll know.

Because you won’t be shrinking in their presence.
You’ll be expanding.

Love,

Harnidh x

P.S.: As usual, a handy Notion checklist for you!