I came across Winston Churchill’s portrait story while watching The Crown on Netflix
In one of the episodes,
Winston Churchill sat stiffly in his chair, his expression somewhere between suspicion and disdain. Before him stood Graham Sutherland, brush in hand, studying the face of Britain’s wartime hero like it was a puzzle that needed solving.
"Paint me as I was," Churchill said gruffly. "Not as I am."
Sutherland didn’t flinch. “I paint what I see, Sir Winston. And I see… a man who has carried a century on his shoulders.”
Churchill scowled, waving away the compliment. “I didn’t come here for a eulogy. I came here for a portrait.
Weeks later, when the final painting was unveiled in Parliament for Churchill’s 80th birthday, laughter followed.
He hated it
He lashes out. Calls Sutherland an unfit artist to paint a parliamentarian.
Sutherland doesn’t flinch.
“I only painted what I saw,” he gives it back.
That’s when it hits Churchill.
He remembered himself as the man who led Britain through war, who gave speeches that shook the world, who carried a nation on his shoulders. But in the portrait, all he saw was an old, grumpy man, crouched on a sofa with a cigar.
And strangely, that’s when it hit me too.
Because, like Churchill, I’ve been avoiding my own portrait — not on canvas, but in the form of my LinkedIn profile and resume.
Every time I try to update them, I remember to clean kitchen, some part of my house which doesnt need cleaning or make my son study for his exams (though he is very much capable of working without my help)
I fear I’ll see the career gaps I can't explain in one line.
The brilliance that didn’t last long enough to shine.
The effort that didn’t translate into titles.
I fear I’ll see someone who’s not “enough.”
And that others — recruiters, colleagues, even friends — will see the same.
So I close the file.
And I open Netflix.
Because it’s easier to watch Churchill face his cracks than face my own.
But unlike Churchill, I don’t get to burn my profile.
And maybe — just maybe — I need to start seeing it not as proof of failure, but as a portrait of survival. Of someone still standing, even if a little crouched......
