My client was starting to think the issue was him.

Maybe he wasn’t seeing clearly. Maybe his boss thought he was focused on the wrong target. Or worse, maybe he was becoming an annoying, squeaky wheel, the kind people roll their eyes at, just not to your face.

The silence, intentional or not, had become a verdict.

They’re not ignoring you, they’re not here.

Senior leaders live six months to a year ahead. It’s the job. Setting direction requires it.

It can be hard to see into the future and still relate to what is happening in the present. Sarah Connor in Terminator 2 was put into a mental institution because of it.

Leaders don’t get locked up for it, but they often struggle with the same issue. Sometimes without even knowing it.

Even as executives work through scenarios, review trends, and hypothesize outcomes, they don’t get a pass on the day-to-day. That’s also part of the job. The problem is when they confuse the future and the present.

Too many executives overestimate their context-switching abilities and underestimate the negative impacts of the cost. They think they are simply juggling multiple realities, but really they can only hold one at a time. They miss the present while contemplating the future. And they color the future with their present concerns.

Your boss isn’t withholding a decision. They’re in a different year, and the version of them in the room is only partially listening.

The truth, from inside the other chair.

When I went into future-planning mode, I would become completely immersed. Strategic planning can be all-consuming, especially if you want to be thorough and collaborate as an executive team.

I would all but ignore my current operations, relying upon my deputies to lead. Unless it was an emergency, I didn’t have time.

Things I would have normally caught and properly addressed festered or ballooned. Underperforming employees didn’t get the feedback they needed. A large client who needed nurturing almost churned.

The one that stung the most? Deferring a deep assessment of our revenue engine. I knew it was important, but we were hitting targets. Had I dug deeper, sooner, I would have realized we had one star, but the rest of the team was floundering. We didn’t have a repeatable sale. Our business relied on one person to keep showing up.

I only realized the issue well into the next year, the one where we were supposed to grow exponentially. Instead, we had to rebuild from the ground up.

The worst part wasn’t the miss. It was the team members who had raised flags, more than once. But I pushed them aside while I lived in a hypothetical, rosy future.

I thought I was being the futurist leader when I was actually distracted and disconnected.

I wasn’t deftly juggling two realities. I could hold only one at a time, and by dropping one, I dropped the other. My team didn’t just suffer the delay alongside me; they saw a leader who they were no longer sure they could trust.

Why the gap costs more than delay.

The cost of the disconnect starts with perspective, but it can quickly grow into confusion and ultimately distrust. It’s the kind of team stress with no release valve: the team can see the gap growing, but their leader doesn’t even know it exists.

If you’re working with a leader like this, you know what it feels like. You bring up topics that should register with weight, and you get a cursory nod. You push for a controversial change with emotion, and you are told things are OK, now’s not the time.

The reaction is real, but it’s not correlated to what you said. It’s connected to another time and place, one that you have no context for, and no idea how it’s changing the conversation.

It means decisions are delayed, poorly executed, or just outright ignored. Some never needed prioritizing, but if you’re a senior, trusted leader bringing up the same topics more than once, it’s demoralizing to feel unheard.

A path forward with more clarity and coherence.

I’m always a fan of simply saying the thing. Every leader I know who has done this has built a stronger relationship, not a weaker one.

When my client raised his concerns for the fourth time, he did it with a question. “Am I not seeing something clearly? Why does it feel like this issue is a high priority for me, but not the leadership team?” It had taken five months, but his boss finally ran it up the chain and got it resolved.

The result wasn’t just closure, but confidence. He had proven something to his boss that acquiescence would have never conveyed.

Here are four actions that can help your boss move past indecision or a non-answer.

1. Ask what time zone they’re in. Plainly. “Are you in planning mode right now? When do you come out?” Most people never ask, and most leaders will answer.

2. Timestamp your asks. Lead with the horizon before the content — “this is a this-quarter decision” or “this is a next-year question.” Route yourself into the reality they’re standing in.

3. Raise the pattern, not the issue. “I’ve brought this up before. I want to understand whether it’s not landing or it’s not a priority.” Never assume. Name your fear not because you want sympathy, but because you seek understanding. Sharing that it feels like insubordination, or like admitting you’ve been keeping score gives your boss permission to tell you what is actually true.

4. Bring both horizons before you’re asked. Map the short-term and long-term implications yourself. You stop being the person raising a present-tense problem and become the person thinking in their time frame.

The gap was never about you, but you can help close it.

This is your reminder that your boss’s actions aren’t always about you or what you did or said, especially when they are in future mode.

They won’t always remember to share their context. And you don’t have to wait to ask.

The gap wasn’t caused by you. But you can help your boss see it and close it together.

May you lead without limits,

Kathy

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“Why am I the only one naming the problems? Doesn’t everyone else see it? We’re wasting time!”

One of my clients, Malcolm, a talented EVP and division leader, is frustrated beyond measure.

He thought he was joining an ambitious, smart group of leaders, ready to accelerate the business.

His due diligence didn’t surface that underneath their buttoned-up exterior was a fear of upsetting others that resulted in endless meetings to hash and rehash issues. Critical blockers left unaddressed. Solutions unexplored because no one had the guts to raise the alarm.

I helped build a room like that.

Sadly, it’s a familiar situation that exists in many organizations. The lost time and energy are the most immediate impacts, but that’s only the start.

I’ve experienced this firsthand. In fact, I feel ashamed that I unwittingly helped perpetuate it in some of the companies I led.

I didn’t understand the damage I was causing until I learned of Kim Scott’s Radical Candor framework nearly 10 years ago.

It was the first time someone put such insightful words to my experience of balancing empathy and directness.

As someone who spent much of my early life living with someone who leaned towards obnoxious aggression, I defaulted to deep empathy. The fear and pain caused by this person in my life left deep scars. Speaking up more often led to demeaning shouting matches and tears rather than any productive outcome. I vowed never to make anyone feel that way.

But I wasn’t conscious of how a proclivity towards caring for someone else’s feelings could lead to ruinous empathy. It doesn’t just hurt an organization’s overall effectiveness, but also the relationships within it.

I learned this the hard way in one of my roles as a division lead. Working in a matrixed structure, I had a product partner who wasn’t developing the solutions we needed to drive commercial success. Our conversations were always friendly and congenial, but I only hinted at what I really wanted: faster feature delivery for partners and improved KPIs.

After 3 months, nothing changed.

My team, frustrated with my approach, asked me why I wasn’t pushing harder. My response was always, “He just needs time. He’ll get there when he gets there. We’ll be OK.”

I ended up being right and wrong.

The part of the business that depended on my collaboration with this particular product partner floundered, but another part of my business grew by leaps and bounds, masking the issue. My product partner never delivered the KPI results we needed, and no one but my team felt the miss.

Just because I got lucky didn't mean I had the right approach.

It took me a long time to realize it, but my miss wasn’t really about financial targets. It cost me the kind of relationship I value, one based on trust and mutual respect.

When I decided, consciously or not, to avoid telling him exactly what I was seeing and concerned about, I chose not to trust that he could handle that truth. I chose not to trust that he could address the issue. I chose to stay on the safe side of the relationship at the cost of both of our learning and growth as leaders.

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Saturday dinner. Everyone taking a turn, saying what happened that day.

Sometimes I would miss a fragment of a story. Sometimes an entire conversation. Only when the kids burst out laughing would I return to the moment.

It happened regularly. Central Park on a Saturday morning. A board game on Sunday afternoon. Anywhere, really.

First, I’d feel guilt and shame for not working. Then I’d feel guilt and shame for not being present for my family, my entire reason for not working. I would top it all off by hashing out all my tasks in my mind, one by one, over and over again throughout the weekend.

By the end of the weekend, I was more exhausted than if I had worked and spent time with my family and skipped sleep altogether. I expended more energy navigating my ruminations and emotions than I would have if I had done the work, which sadly, made me question why I had decided to stop working on the weekends in the first place.

It sounds terrible in words. But trust me, it was worse living it. I had already stopped working weekends. Six months earlier.

I shouldn’t have been surprised how deep this was woven into me.

I worked weekends for years. It started as a job requirement in investment banking, then became fun during my time in start-ups and media. I was consistently praised and promoted for my work ethic and results, which I attributed to my long hours, including late weeknights and weekends.

But as I started to build a family, it became a burden.

I wanted to cut back on my weekend hours. In fact, I wanted to stop altogether, but I just couldn’t.

The voices in my head were adamant: “If I didn’t work, I’d fall behind. I would let my colleagues and team down. I’d be unworthy of my leadership post. I would fail.” They created a rationale my brain felt safe holding tightly.

Eventually, nearly a decade after I had the inkling to stop working on the weekends, I did. It wasn’t easy.

When you have built your habits around a belief system that is guided by fear, you’ve built a cage out of habits you mistook for protection.

Persistence, patience, and some self-recognition.

So how did I eventually stop working on the weekends without tormenting myself? Just as I constructed the habit over time and with a mixture of fear, belief, and positive reinforcement, I needed a recipe with multiple elements.

The first and perhaps the most important ingredient: persistence.

I just kept at it. As adamantly as my mind messed with me, I was just as immovable about staying the course. Each time my internal saboteurs reared their heads, I would provide a counterargument and stay the course. I reminded myself how important my family is to me. I also wanted to give myself space away from work themes to refresh each week.

They were good reasons, but it was still hard to keep at it. So I needed another ingredient: patience.

When I found myself tensing up instead of relaxing into playtime with my daughter, I would have to remind myself, “the work will be there Monday — it’ll be OK.” The grace I gave myself was probably one of the main reasons I could persist.

My patience also extended to how I measured time and my progress. As someone highly motivated by goals, deep behavior change like this is hard. The roadmap is vague and without a clear endpoint. Milestones are hard to predict and even harder to measure. I needed to be OK with all of that and still keep going.

Which leads me to the last ingredient: self-recognition.

This is the part of the process high achievers tend to avoid because it feels cringe-worthy. Acknowledging your wins and giving yourself a pat on the back can feel ridiculous at best and embarrassing and a waste of time at worst. But rewards and recognition matter. What I found was that naming the small wins made the next week easier. That’s how I primed myself to make real change happen.

For me, self-recognition was mostly positive self-talk: “great job staying the course!” I found it so much easier to change how I spoke to myself than to formally reward myself. I’m not someone easily motivated by material things. I much prefer emotional rewards. The key was to not skip this step. Celebrating myself and my commitment made it easier to keep going, especially when the finish line wasn’t visible.

It took 6 months for the voices to quiet. Nine months before I actually enjoyed my weekends. More than a few times, I reconsidered my entire approach. I love pursuing goals, but I couldn’t see the goalposts on this one, and uncertainty breeds the worst kind of doubt. I had to trust far more than I was comfortable with.

Start with small, clear steps.

The routine I created for myself was simple.

Before shutting down on Friday, complete a 10-minute reflection:

• What went well for the week?

• What could have gone better?

• What are the biggest boulders to move Monday?

• Remind myself why I’m choosing not to work on that weekend

That’s it. Shut the laptop. Turn off notifications. And when the rumination and guilt come calling, be ready to recommit to my why.

After each weekend, I would complete a 5-minute reflection:

• How many times did I catch myself ruminating or feeling guilty? Those were all wins!

• How many times did I bring myself back to the moment? Another set of wins!

• A mini-internal celebration for completing another weekend! 🙌

And truth be told, I didn’t skip work every weekend. There were seasons of strategic planning, end-of-year reviews, or big deals when I allowed myself to work. But there was the difference from the past: it wasn’t driven by fear; it was intentional and time-boxed.

Your turn.

My challenge was working on the weekends. Yours might be entirely different. But how deeply it’s ingrained in you might be the same. Habits form over time and with evidence of their validity, even the ones that no longer serve you.

If you’re contemplating a shift, or deep into the process of making one, don’t let the hard days or tough months stop you. You’re making more progress than you can see; stay the course. Your future self will thank you.

May you lead without limits,

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“Every time I enter the room, I freeze. I get stuck in my head. I catastrophize.”

I was coaching a client recently about how he prepares for executive team meetings. Leonardo is a VP of Data & Intelligence, and in one-on-ones, he is the sharpest person in the conversation. In the executive team meeting, he says almost nothing.

When you’ve been successful without much stress, it can be eye-opening to be faced with a challenge you can’t easily overcome.

It’s unsurprising he hadn’t developed a routine for dealing with challenging situations. He never had to.

As a leader who had risen in his career, like many, based on natural talents, it wasn’t that Leonardo didn’t have to work hard. It was just that applying himself and his natural instincts had always been sufficient.

But when faced with something that doesn’t come as naturally, and when your historically productive approaches are not working, your fear starts to take over. It has ample fodder to draw from to propel its narrative.

It can point to all the ways you haven’t been able to overcome your hurdle, and that just further reinforces the fear that you don’t have what it takes to tackle this particular challenge.

For Leonardo, he had seen other leaders be minimized for communicating poorly or for supporting an idea that others didn’t agree with. It felt reputationally dangerous to speak up, especially for someone who didn’t feel comfortable putting forth ideas extemporaneously.

What if he suggested the wrong approach or couldn’t string his ideas together in a way that felt compelling or clear? We worked through ways to challenge those fears. He understood all of it. He still couldn’t do it in the room.

When I shared the idea of a warm-up, Leonardo’s eyes opened a bit wider. It sounded so simple and yet, he had never considered it.

The reason why routines matter.

I never thought I needed a routine. As someone who has never needed motivation to get through the day (I’ve almost always loved work and school), I thought it was a waste of time.

Only recently did I learn that a routine can sometimes be essential.

It started with my decision to write online to build brand awareness and followership for my coaching practice.

I’ve always been insecure about writing. It was always easier to avoid than to do the work. I didn’t understand why I wasn’t just writing as I should, as I had throughout my career with every other task. In the past, even when I didn’t want to create a presentation or write a performance improvement plan (neither of which I enjoyed), I somehow found the ability to focus and marshal through.

But something about online writing felt different. Maybe it was because no one was waiting for me to publish. There was no specific person I was going to let down if I didn’t write. Or maybe the connection between publishing and generating business was tenuous at best. Regardless of the reason why, my mind and my body refused. They seemed totally in sync that it was better not to try than to make a misstep and fail.

Even after I joined multiple masterminds and connected with communities of other business builders, all learning how to write online, I still wasn’t consistent and struggled.

The solution?

A warm-up routine: to prepare my mind and my body to move through the fear and not get stopped by it. It’s not ground-breaking or complicated:

• I start with a short meditation where I quiet my mind and my body.

• I remind myself of the purpose of this work — to help others, and that my imperfections are part of the process, not a detriment.

• And then I do some reading. It might be a business book or something that simply interests me. I often find a subject that inspires a thought that becomes the seed for a piece.

On a good day, I go from avoidance to acceptance to action within 15 minutes.

Routines aren’t just habits. They are a way to calm your nervous system and ramp yourself into action.

Highways have on ramps for a reason. Most cars (and humans) need time to get from slow to fast. That’s how a warm-up routine works.

In athletics, the right warm-up can help you improve your performance in your workout or sport. Overcoming something you fear can work on the same principles.

Let’s break down the parts of a warm-up that help you work through your fear:

• Starting with small steps makes it easier to see progress.

• Aligning your warm-up to the work you want to do helps you feel focused.

• Keeping it short helps you accelerate into what you ultimately want to tackle.

• Visualizing success or finding inspiration gives you a starting point to work from.

That’s it.

And if you want to add something that feels like a mini reward or an extra source of energy or relaxation, consider environmental elements like the room you choose, ambient sounds or music, a beverage you enjoy, or a scent that helps your mood.

All of those contextual cues help your mind and body associate positive feelings with the work you are about to do. It’s another way to reduce your fear and avoidance.

The goal is to make the experience more enjoyable so that you can do what matters to you, even if it isn’t something you find easy.

What a work warm-up looks like in practice.

Leonardo found that creating a 15-minute buffer window before any high-stakes meeting allowed him to incorporate a warm-up routine.

His warm-up looks very much like mine for writing:

• He steps away from the computer to give his eyes a rest and his body and brain a chance to transition from whatever he was doing last.

• If he has time, he’ll go for a short walk, which can be energizing if he feels sluggish.

• He’ll focus on the agenda for the next meeting and what “good” looks like.

• He’ll anticipate some topics that might come up and what he wants the leadership to know or focus on. If there are particularly complex or challenging issues, he might schedule a larger window for his warm-up and even add music to his routine.

• When he gets back to his computer, he’ll turn off notifications and close all his windows so that he can be distraction-free.

• Then he’ll take a few deep breaths right before the meeting starts.

He didn’t arrive at this all in one go. It took him a few weeks to test different versions, and he’s still experimenting. But just giving himself time before the meeting to transition and set an intention immediately helped.

Even in the first few meetings where he did this, he felt calmer and ready to engage. He didn’t always speak up, but he felt less scared to do so. Eventually, he was regularly interjecting and no longer holding back, even if what he was sharing wasn’t a fully formed thought. There were still meetings where he stayed quiet. The difference was that it was a choice by then, not a freeze.

Testing and building a warm-up routine takes time and iteration.

Over time, Leonardo will find that some practices are still helpful while others he’ll retire. It’s less about what you specifically choose and more about taking the time to acknowledge that you need a way to ramp into the work, especially the work that doesn’t come easily.

It took me several attempts to find an initial routine that worked. And then, funny enough, when that clicked, after a few months, I got bored and needed to refresh it. That’s the thing about a routine: it is designed to become predictable. That’s one of the reasons why it combats fear so well. Our minds are most relaxed when we perceive predictability and certainty.

But if you’re like me, trying to do work that requires creativity as well, sometimes you have to change it up to reinvigorate your creative engine. For me, it looks like different books and different locations for my warm-up process. One thing I want to try before winter is going outdoors. Morning sunlight can be a wonderful way to wake up the senses. I’m looking forward to trying it, and I know that it’ll just be one iteration of many.

Your Turn.

I was allergic to routines for a long time. I thought of them as fads. When I realized they could be a tool for my growth, it was a revelation.

Giving myself permission to develop a process that worked for me and to tweak it over time was freeing.

I’m curious, what’s a task or a skill you have been wanting to pursue but have been putting off? It could be work-related, but it doesn’t have to be.

Would you be open to creating an on-ramp for yourself, a warm-up that makes it feel safer and more enjoyable?

I’d love to hear more about what routine you’d like to try or what has worked for you in the past in the Comments.

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A hard chapter may not be easy, but it isn’t a cause for concern. It’s an opportunity to build your leadership toolkit and maybe unlock far more than you ever expected.

May you lead without limits,

Kathy

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“What if you did the math and found out you could actually make it work?”

He paused, looking down, slightly ashamed, he answered, “I don’t know.”

I asked my client this question last week after he shared his torment.

He had been laid off after a decade-long career he had built with care. He was struggling to fully commit to a job search, putting in effort in fits and starts. Whenever he started to build a little momentum, he would second-guess himself.

His head was telling him that he needed to land a traditional job, but his heart wanted to pursue an entirely new path, a creative and independent one.

He was locked in limbo. He avoided doing the work to assess the feasibility of the creative path, and wasn’t making progress on the traditional one.

Doing neither didn’t just keep him stuck; it kept him safe.

Indecision is a decision.

What my client was experiencing is something many leaders face when the stakes feel high. It’s often easier to stay the course than to pause and reconsider all of your options.

This isn’t just true in the job search; it can also happen when you’re in the role, too. It could be a shift in strategy or a redesign of your organization; any significant move can trigger a corresponding stalling or avoidance.

It starts with a signal or even a hint of one that makes you question if you should make a change. You can either investigate and validate, or you can keep marching forward.

Making the decision feels hard because inertia is real, not just a theoretical law of physics. When you’re already on a path, or if you’ve bought into a particular narrative (”We have to…” or “The only way is to…”), it’s very difficult to swim against that tide.

And since very few of us exist in a vacuum, it isn’t just your own views you have to navigate. It’s those of the people around you.

Every time I made an industry change (and I made 5 throughout my career), I first had to fight my internal instincts. But then I had to face those of my friends, colleagues, and mentors. They all had a point of view, and if they were sitting on one side of the context (as most were), they were often biased. They simply didn’t have the broader perspective.

All of these opposing forces can push you into a standstill. They can make you feel trapped. When pressure is being applied on all sides, it feels easier to stop resisting.

But standing still only extends your time in limbo. It solidifies the trap around you.

The only way to break through is to first ask yourself, not which path to take, but “why won’t I do the work to pick a path?”

How your fear clouds your vision.

For my client, it wasn’t just that a more traditional path had lost its luster or that he would regret his choice.

His true fear was that if the math worked out — if it was actually possible to create a financially viable career out of a creative pursuit, he’d have to take the risk and pursue it. That was the scariest thing he had to face.

Not knowing what was possible was like wearing padded handcuffs.

It was holding him hostage and letting him avoid doing the harder work of mapping out a real plan. The dream could stay alive and out of reach. His fear intentionally obscured the path forward — the fog became the plan.

When I played it back to him, I saw his eyes widen in realization, “What if you stop letting your fear run the show, and instead did the math and talked with your partner to actually find out what is possible?”

He nodded slowly in agreement, even as I could see his fear struggling to keep clouding the picture.

When you choose to see clearly, you’ll still feel the fear, but you’ll stop being controlled by it.

When I took over a small, declining e-commerce business line, my mandate was clear. I had a year to turn the business around. The pressure was high. I had replaced a beloved leader, and 200+ people’s jobs were on the line.

I was deeply scared of making the wrong call. My decision would impact so many lives and the overall company’s success.

I tested a number of changes to stabilize losses — website, email, and product adjustments. I studied the trends and headwinds working against us. The data was all there, but I struggled to see it and make sense of it. My fear mixed it all up in my head, creating a chaotic stew of thoughts.

Only after several conversations with my boss, the CEO, did I finally pause long enough to digest and accept the facts. I couldn’t create a clear path forward until I faced them.

My fear never left me, but at last, it lost its power to dissuade me from seeing reality.

I learned to “never assume” you’re stuck because you don’t know the right answer — oftentimes, a part of you already knows, the part that already sees the truth.

Your fears are controlling more than you realize, for you and your team.

The thing about fear is that it often wears the costume of a wise counselor.

It might show up when you think the data points to a change in your strategy, but you avoid asking your team to gather the numbers. Your fear doesn’t want to “bother” your team, and it certainly doesn’t want to “force” a strategy call. But avoiding the hard look doesn’t make the facts go away. It just keeps your blinders on and delays the right decision.

Or you have someone on your team who keeps “exploring options” long past the appropriate moment because a decision pushed aside someone’s work on the team. The fear of someone feeling less valued is legitimate, but it isn’t addressed by rehashing decisions. It’s addressed by ensuring the person is assigned work that aligns their strengths with organizational priorities.

Or it might look like the career choice others would make, instead of what’s right for you. The truly unfortunate career decision is the one where you never gave yourself permission to explore and discover what might be possible before you shut down the path and narrowed your options.

Your brain is wired to default to the known and to the path you’re already on. It’s an evolutionary design, but it isn’t always the best option.

You have the power to choose… always. Use it.

Your action plan.

The path towards clearing the fog your fear creates isn’t complicated, but it is intentional. If you’re sensing your fear is clouding your judgment and constraining your path forward, take these steps.

1. Name the option(s) you’re refusing to research.

The one that makes your stomach drop when I say “run the numbers.” The drop is the signal. If there’s more than one, write them all down.

2. Do the math. The real math.

The actual figures on an actual page — runway, costs, savings, revenue, income, timeline, skills, capacity, energy. Not the 2am catastrophe version and not the version that someone else tells you. Use your judgment. And talk with your partner or teammates about it, if you have one. If you don’t live or work alone, don’t plan alone.

3. Decide what a “yes” would require — say it out loud.

“If the numbers work, am I willing to move?” If that’s the scary part, good. Now you’re starting to face reality. This is when you begin to realize that the fear was the scariest part, not the action.

And if any of the above feels hard, that’s normal.

Don’t do all of this at once. Pace yourself. And find support. I have rarely navigated a hard moment all by myself. The person supporting you doesn’t even have to fully understand what you’re navigating. They just have to be willing to listen, be present, and be patient.

Lastly, it’s OK if you get it wrong. That’s one of the best ways to quiet your fear and let it take a backseat while you get back in front of the wheel. The stumble isn’t the fail, the lack of attempt is.

You don’t have to stay in indecision. There is another path.

The cost of indecision isn’t just time. It’s a sense of agency.

When you let your fear protect you from the clarity that would ask something of you, something different than what you’ve done in the past, it keeps you safe by holding you back.

The cost is being trapped by your fear, and not learning what any path would tell you about what is possible.

When fear keeps all options open, it’s actually keeping all of them closed. Remember that.

Start by giving yourself permission to do the homework and build a clearer picture, even when you feel scared, not in spite of it.

And if you’re up for it share it with me — reply to this email if you’re a subscriber or share it in the Comments.

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Part of the process of facing your fears is acknowledging them and helping to normalize that they exist for everyone. Your share might just help you get unstuck the next time your fear is starting to constrain you.

And if you found today’s post helpful, consider hitting the ❤️ or sharing it with someone else who needs it. I write every week to help more leaders find a path forward in their work and career that unleashes their full potential.

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Thank you for helping me to reach more leaders!

May you lead without limits,

P.S. Before your fall routine starts, if you’re thinking about getting more support, I have three ways to help:

1. Corporate group coaching and live events — I help organizations level up their collaboration, motivation, and alignment as a coach, keynote speaker or facilitator. If you’re looking for someone who has actually been in the leadership trenches, I have 2 spots open for the fall. Book time to learn more.

2. 1:1 Executive Coaching — I help leaders amplify their leadership, realize their career goals, and strengthen their mindset so that they can fully appreciate the journey. I have 1 spot open for the fall. Book time to learn more.

3. Career without Limits Retreat — I am hosting my first retreat this November to help leaders who want a clear roadmap for their next career move. If you’re looking for clarity with a dose of fun to figure out what’s next, this is for you. Learn more and reserve your spot.

It was past midnight. Again.

We were somewhere in a weeks-long stretch of 2:30 a.m. finishes, the kind of hours that blur together until you stop counting them.

And every night, without fail, my boss would look over as we were wrapping up and say the same thing.

“Come on. I’ll share a cab.”

He didn’t have to. He was tired too. He probably would have rather had a quiet ride alone.

But he never left without me. Not once.

It said: I see you. We are in this together.

And I never forgot it.

Around the same time, two jobs earlier, I had the opposite experience.

I was in investment banking, heading to a client meeting with one of the largest technology companies in the world. I’d been up all night preparing. Really, all week.

I stumbled under a duffel bag stuffed with somewhere between forty and sixty presentation books, so bleary-eyed I could barely walk in my suit and heels.

Not one person offered to help.

These weren’t unkind people. They weren’t trying to make a statement.

The absence made one anyway.

It said: rank has its privileges. And you don’t have them yet.

I don’t carry resentments, but I felt that one deeply. Maybe it was the fatigue, or just feeling alone.

The impression never left me. I promised myself I would lead differently.

The imprints we make unintentionally sometimes last longer than the ones we make intentionally.

We spend a lot of energy on the formal moments of leadership. The produced all-hands. The values statement. The message from the top that took three rounds of revisions to get right.

Those moments matter, but they don’t build culture.

Culture is built in the cab ride home. In who picks up the duffel bag. In what you do with your calendar, your attention, and your energy when you think no one is paying particular attention.

Your team is always paying attention.

Not in a surveillance way. Not consciously, necessarily. But the daily choices you make about pace, presence, boundaries, and care are teaching your people something. Every day. Whether you intend them to or not.

The question is whether you know what you’re teaching.

I taught something I would never have said out loud.

I was a COO at a company in startup mode. One of the things on my plate was a conference we were hosting, and I owned it.

It wasn’t landing. Our CEO kept telling me the pieces weren’t coming together, and privately I agreed with him, though for a different reason. I didn’t think the direction was focused enough on the business or on the outcomes we needed.

I had a team. Any one of them could have helped me build a better structure.

I didn’t ask.

Instead I held it. More hours. More iterations. More rounds of asking for feedback on work that had already been reworked twice.

I told myself I was protecting them. They were stretched. They weren’t ready for something this visible.

And there was enough truth in that to let me believe it.

Underneath it was something I couldn’t see at the time. I was afraid to ask them to stretch. And I was more afraid of what would happen if they could.

Because if my team could carry more than I believed, and carry it better than I could, then my role would have to change.

That’s the fear that kept me holding the bag. It was safer to believe I was the one who had to do it all than to find out I wasn’t.

It took me years to hear the reframe. I didn’t have to shift. I got the chance to.

But that shift asks for something harder than more hours. It asks for strategic thinking, honest reflection, and a look at reality that’s easier to avoid.

The overwork was how I avoided it. It just looked like commitment.

And what I modeled to my team, without meaning to, was overthinking. Rumination. A leader who wouldn’t set down a load that was crushing her.

Your habits may be doing more harm than you realize.

Recently, I was on a video call with a senior executive, a potential client. Thoughtful, experienced, someone who cared about his work and his people.

His eyes kept drifting. Typing. Reading something.

He could follow the thread well enough. Our conversation was loose, the topic manageable.

What I felt was unmistakable. Something else mattered more than our conversation, than me.

I’m not telling this as a criticism. I’m telling it because I understand exactly how it happens.

Leaders today are inundated. Dashboard updates, Slack pings, email stacking up, texts arriving underneath all of it. The demands are real and relentless. Over time, without intention, presence becomes a casualty of keeping up.

Team conversations are among the most expensive things we do. They cost you time. They cost the other person time. And they’re one of the richest chances we get to exchange something harder to measure than information: trust, connection, the sense that this person sees me.

When you’re half there, you think you’re juggling, maybe even helping. You’re actually sending a message: what you’re saying doesn’t warrant my full attention.

It’s not what you mean. But your team receives it either way.

The antidote is intention.

A few months ago, I was facilitating a strategic planning session. The leadership team had fractured since the process started. This was high stakes. A lot was riding on the next few hours.

I wasn’t anxious, exactly. But I knew my energy would set the tone in that room before I said a word.

So on the drive over, I put on a specific song, one I knew would make me feel connected to the people I was about to work with and to the meaning of the work itself.

I did this because I know what happens when I don’t. I walk in running on competence, and people can feel the difference.

By the time I parked, my eyes had welled up. It wasn’t manufactured. It was real.

And it changed what I could do in that room. I could be open and pointed at the same time. I could redirect people when the conversation drifted, and it didn’t land as correction, because they could feel I was with them. I could keep drawing each person back in.

That mattered, because the goal of that session was never a set of answers everyone agreed on. It was to rebuild trust in the process, and every person in the room believing their input counted.

I could do that because I was already connected when I walked in. My job was to make those threads visible as the conversation went.

That’s what intention looks like. Quiet. Often invisible. The choices you make before you walk through the door.

The harder question too many leaders leave unanswered.

Most leaders I work with aren’t sleepwalking on purpose. They’re moving fast. And when you’re moving fast, the small gestures go first. The eye contact. The follow-through. The moment of connection before the meeting starts.

The harder question is whether you know how you’re landing. Most of us have never checked.

A 360 can surface some of it. An open conversation with your team can surface more. Both require trust, and if that trust isn’t fully there yet, start by paying attention on your own.

Notice what your daily choices are teaching. Ask yourself whether the culture you think you’re building matches the one you’re modeling.

When there’s a gap, it almost always lives in the small moments.

Your Turn

This week, pick one conversation. One meeting. One moment where you’d normally be half-present.

Show up fully instead. See what it opens.

And if you’re ready for the harder version: ask someone you trust on your team what they notice. What habits land. Where they feel the gap.

That conversation, uncomfortable as it is, is itself a message. It says: I’m paying attention to how I’m showing up for you.

The leaders who shaped you weren’t performing when they shaped you. They were doing the ordinary thing in the ordinary moment, and you never forgot it.

You’re doing the same for someone right now.

May you lead without limits,

If this was useful, tap the ❤️ so more leaders can find it.

And if someone came to mind while you were reading, send it to them.

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I write this to reach leaders who need the reminder to check how they’re showing up, and you sharing it is how that reach happens.

“I know I have a strong network. But I don’t know if they’ll even want to talk to me.”

She’d been promoted every 1-3 years for the last decade. Associate to project lead. Project lead to director. Director to executive leader—the kind of role that people dream about but don’t often achieve. By almost every measure, she had already arrived somewhere impressive.

And now she was stuck.

Not because she couldn’t find a job. She had landed every recent role through her network. They’d called her. They’d known to reach out. But sitting down to call them? That felt different. Riskier. Like she might actually discover that those relationships were more fragile than she thought.

I asked her a simple question.

“When you got your last role, did they find you, or did you find them?”

“They found me,” she said.

“Right. And why do you think they knew to call?”

She paused.

What we don’t see when we’re in the thick of it.

Here’s what I’ve watched happen over and over in coaching senior leaders:

We confuse reputation with visibility.

We think our reputation is built on awards, titles, promotions, or big splashy announcements. We imagine it’s something polished and public—a LinkedIn headline, a promotion announcement, a press release.

It’s not.

Your reputation is what you leave behind when you’re not in the room. It’s how you showed up when the bigwigs weren’t in the room. How you handled pressure. How you treated people who couldn’t do anything for you. What you delivered when the stakes mattered. How you moved through a project, a team, a crisis.

People are watching. They’re noting it. And they remember far longer than you think.

The truly disarming part?

You don’t build this by doing extra. You build it by doing your actual job well. Every day. In how you relate to others. In the results you delivered. In how you carried yourself through your work and the work of others.

That’s it.

I learned this the hard way.

A few years ago, when I was getting ready to launch my coaching practice, I posted about it on LinkedIn. Within days, someone from my past reached out. She’d worked adjacent to me at one company. Different department, different reporting line. We’d crossed paths in meetings and collaborated on a few initiatives. But we’d never worked directly together.

She responded immediately to my post. Said she wanted to catch up. And then, when we talked, she told me something that genuinely surprised me:

She’d been watching how I showed up. She’d seen me in meetings, in how I handled the bigger organizational challenges, difficult colleagues, and complex issues. And she had been impressed. Enough that when I put my work out into the world, she thought: I want to support this person.

Over the next two years, she referred me to multiple senior leaders. Several became clients.

I had no idea I’d made that kind of impression on her. I didn’t imagine I had made such a meaningful impression. I was just doing my job.

And yet it reinforced what I had learned a few years prior.

In my first job out of college, I worked with a senior banker. He was leading deals, while I was the grunt on them. I wasn’t the top analyst in my group. I was mid-tier—solid, but not standout. And honestly, in that role, I was struggling. Not just with the work, but with the pace, the culture, the demands. Looking back, I’m pretty sure I didn’t show up as my best self. I was surviving, not thriving.

Twenty years later, when I wanted to reach out to his current company for business reasons, I had no idea if he’d even remember me. And if he did, I wasn’t sure what impression I’d left.

I reached out anyway.

He responded immediately. We caught up. And then he referred me to someone inside his organization.

Again. No idea that what I’d done in that first job had lasted that long. That I’d mattered enough, despite my own doubts about my performance in that role.

What this means for you.

When you’re mid-to-late in your career, you’re no longer building a reputation for its own sake. You’re building optionality.

Every interaction you have right now, in meetings, in how you handle your team, in how you respond when something goes wrong, in the way you collaborate with someone in a different function, is creating a network of people who know what you’re like to work with.

They’re tracking whether you deliver. Whether you’re easy to collaborate with. Whether you show up as someone who thinks bigger than your own role. Whether you can be trusted when things get complicated.

This doesn’t require extra. It requires intention.

It means showing up fully in your current job, even if you’re already thinking about the next one. It means treating the person on the junior team the same way you’d treat the senior leader. It means following through on commitments, even small ones. It means being the person people actually want to work with again.

Because when you decide it’s time to make a move, whether that’s in six months or five years, the work is already done.

Your reputation precedes you. And people will respond not because they’re doing you a favor, but because they’ve already seen what you’re capable of and they want to benefit from the association.

Your move.

If you’re not currently in a job search, don’t skip this: think about one relationship you’ve been meaning to deepen. Someone you worked with years ago. Someone in your current organization you admire, but don’t yet really know. Someone a friend mentioned to you, but you haven’t had (or made the) time to connect. Reach out. No agenda. Just a genuine conversation.

Your future self will thank you for tending to it now.

If you are actively searching and are hesitant to reach out to past colleagues, remember this: you’re not asking people to take a chance on you. You’re giving them the opportunity to be associated with someone they already know is excellent. That changes everything about the conversation.

Either way, the relationships you’re building right now are compounding. Don’t wait until you need them to nurture them.

If you found this post valuable, please consider giving it a ❤️ to help others find it too. And if you’re feeling generous, share it with a friend. You won’t just be helping them — you might be creating an accountability buddy who helps you take action, too.

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May you lead without limits,

A couple of things I’m opening up this fall, in case either is useful to you:

I have 2 spots available for one-on-one coaching, and 2 openings for live team facilitation if your team needs a reset.

And if you’re ready to step away from the daily fray and reset your career roadmap, I’d love to have you at my Career Without Limits Retreat in November. More here.

It’s 8pm and the dinner delivery has just arrived. The CEO and CFO start to inhale the food without even looking at it, as they push forward on day 3 of drafting end-of-year goals for the business.

Meanwhile, the rest of the exec team is at home, wondering what is being cooked up, when the next round of “emergency” inputs are needed, and whether what gets shared resembles anything practical.

The CEO and CFO are wearing their hero capes with pride, thinking they are bearing the heavy lifting on behalf of the leadership team.

But really, they are simply trading the short-term facade of speed and efficiency for mid-term misalignment and rework, and long-term distrust and execution risk from disillusioned team members that were never brought along.

Sound familiar?

I’ve sat on both sides of the experience. And neither wins.

It took me years to reconcile how early narrow conversations that feel expeditious can actually create friction that is hard to undo and later slows down the business in ways that are truly painful.

But there is another way. It’s counterintuitive and has a delayed payoff, but it’s the only way to drive to the outcomes that really matter: an aligned team that feels real ownership over their goals and is ready to attack them with all their energy.

The Core Problem

What leaders who optimize for efficiency and accuracy often miss is the relational cost and the downstream execution cost of going too fast too early.

Moving fast and keeping things tight feels efficient in the moment—but creates wasted cycles later when people have to make sense of decisions they weren’t part of and don’t feel bought in. These are the costs that are harder to see when you’re rushing to get things started:

Four Specific Friction Points

1. Timeline and steps unclear — Finance and CEO work in a black box sounds efficient, but it’s really just an opaque black box. Without a clear path for how other people get brought in by function and by level, everyone either resigns themselves to the sidelines (slowly starting to check out) or their anxiety starts to grow as they wonder what’s really happening behind closed doors. You don’t need to have it mapped out day-by-day, but even a weekly or monthly view, along with key deliverables, will help everyone anticipate what they need to budget time for and what they can expect.

2. Decision authority and responsibility muddled — A leader who’s used to calling all the shots and having full authority may feel it’s not necessary to specify who decides what, who makes trades, and why. But when people don’t know what they control versus what gets funneled up the chain, they start to get stressed. Conversations also quickly become personal negotiations between leaders if they don’t have a reference point on how to engage. Relationships don’t just get tested; they can often be pushed into zones where they are hard to repair.

3. Communication blackouts — When executives are in the thick of planning, they often forget to message their teams. I know I did, and it’s understandable. The work is intense, and the stakes feel high. But information vacuums create uncertainty, which leads to fear. This builds distrust and can hurt team productivity as people start to guess or assume the worst might be happening.

4. Unstated hypotheses and assumptions — One of the biggest misses in goal setting is when leaders have preconceived notions and don’t share them upfront. It’s easy to blow past this step when you’ve been thinking about the details 24x7 for weeks. But when you unveil everything as a finished product, it feels like a black box, which is harder to understand and even harder to accept. People need time to digest, disagree, and contribute their best thinking. When you rush through these steps, you don’t get the benefit of their inputs, and you delay or hurt their ability to become fully bought into the path forward. It also means you didn’t pressure-test your foundation, soliciting input or data points that could augment the current strategy or even indicate a better path forward. That means you run a higher risk of pushing forward without a complete picture in addition to poor team buy-in.

The Shift: Transparency as the Solution

All of these issues can be addressed by committing to planning out your process and sharing it in advance. Specify the process, roles, responsibilities, and key themes upfront. Make assumptions and hypotheses visible so people can weigh in, prepare their input, and actually understand the thinking. This builds trust and gets better thinking from across the organization.

And don’t over-engineer your approach. The best ones are clear, simple, and acknowledge that you won’t get everything right. Committing to getting feedback, learning, and making adjustments is just one more way to build trust.

Last but not least, time-bound all of this work. It’s easy to get into rabbit holes and add more details, more decision-points, more, more, more. But your initial instincts that guided you to keep this process efficient and not overtake the core work of running the business were correct. You just needed to make sure you weren’t anchoring towards speed above all else.

Why Start Now (July)

It may feel early, but outlining the process now means that when you get to the real goal-setting work in Q4, you’ve already laid the groundwork. You’ve alerted your team, set expectations about what happens when, and created a path for inclusion. This requires more upfront work but generates far more leverage, speed, alignment, and execution later.

Your Turn

The goal-setting process doesn’t have to be a bureaucratic waste of time. It can be a moment to reinforce a culture of inclusion, transparency and of strong decision-making.

The payoff: People who actually want to execute because they were brought along. Better alignment. Faster execution. And teams that trust the process because they were part of building it.

What’s one thing you can start outlining now so that your team gets the benefit later as you set your goals for 2027? I’d love to hear about it in the Comments.

And if this post resonated, give it a like or even better, share it with a friend who needs the reminder to get started now.

May you lead without limits,

This July 4th evening, instead of fireworks, we lost power twice. The first time, it came back in fifteen minutes, and we barely noticed. The second time, it didn’t come back at all.

The family was already in bed, and the house had gone completely silent in the way a house only gets quiet when the hum of every appliance stops at once. It was getting hotter by the minute.

Every window shut against the storm outside. I lay there doing what I always do at night when I’m anxious, running through my worries for the next day: my husband too unwell to help in the morning, my son’s bags still not fully packed, the drive to campus ahead of us, and underneath all of it, a low current of fear that none of us would sleep well enough to be ready for the day we actually needed.

We slept more than I expected. But I woke up already anxious, and the morning confirmed why. My husband couldn’t come. So it was on me: the last of the packing, somehow still unfinished despite days of trying to get ahead of it, and then getting my son to a program that was, in every practical sense, going to be fine.

The drive itself was easy. No traffic. We got there early, which I thought was a gift. We finished unpacking at noon. His program didn’t start until one. We had time to leisurely walk across campus and sit together in the student center, where he’d eventually have lunch.

Except the extra time didn’t end up being a gift. It became a gap.

My son, who does not get anxious, who has spent years being the one who tells me Mom, I’ll be fine, sat in that gap, and with each passing minute, I could see his struggle grow, right in front of me. Not dramatically. Just a deeper slouch, a receding and blinking, watering eyes.

He didn’t know anyone yet. It was too early, and the room was too quiet. None of the energy and machinations of a pending event had started.

I watched and understood, the way you understand something in your body before your mind catches up, that my staying there was making it worse, not better. He told me as much. Mom, you can go. Which is a strange thing to hear from your child. An offer of mercy, or maybe a soft plea to go before my presence drew out more of the emotions he was trying to keep in check.

As I walked away and saw him attempt to marshal his feelings, I repeated to myself why this experience would help him grow, was a wonderful opportunity to explore, and an important step in his development. But even as I ran through my logic, all I felt was guilt that I was asking my child to suffer, fear that maybe I didn’t know what was best, and concern that maybe I was even doing harm.

Before we left, I found a program coordinator. Told her he wasn’t feeling great. Asked if he’d be introduced to the other kids, if someone would notice if he needed a hand. She told me it would be fine. The afternoon would offer lots of activities. It would be great. All things I already knew. I needed to hear them out loud anyway.

Then I left. My daughter was with me, quiet in the back seat, and within a few minutes on the road, my phone started lighting up. It was my son.

He wasn’t feeling well. He was worried. He said so outright, which he never does. I called him from the car, my daughter listening to every word, and I told him the only thing I could: that it was going to be okay, that I wouldn’t force him to navigate these feelings alone, that he could call me the second he needed to, and I would figure out what to do next, even if there was a cost. I said for him, but I think I needed to say the words to myself.

At some point during that call, I glanced at my daughter and saw she was tearing up. Silently, the way she does. She’s an empath, like I am, and she’d been absorbing it all, her brother’s growing worry moving straight into her own body without either of them saying a word to each other.

I was doing my best to get us home safely through a storm that had followed us from the campus. The rain and wind were a mirror of what I was feeling inside, holding my son’s fear on the phone and my daughter’s grief in the backseat. And underneath both of those, my own version of the same feeling, masked as composure because someone in that car needed to drive.

We got home. I got my daughter lunch, dropped her at a friend’s house, and came back to a house that still didn’t have power, hours after the outage, the food in the fridge starting to turn, and the air thick with the kind of heat that makes your brain turn to molasses while your heart starts to ruminate.

And then, nothing. No text. No call.

I’d braced for a flood of updates and instead got silence, which is its own particular kind of hard. I didn’t check in. I wanted to, more than once. But checking in would have meant not trusting the thing I’d told him in the car, and I’d meant it when I said it.

So instead, I did the only thing I actually had control over: I focused on me and what I needed. I finished a workout I’d promised myself, moved through my own afternoon, and let the not knowing sit there without trying to manage it.

By evening, his text came. The afternoon hadn’t been so bad after all. Dinner was not great, but OK. He was still there and more open to staying. The next morning, he told me he’d slept well, and that he was willing to stay the first week, evaluate from there, see how it went.

I felt the whole thing let go at once, the way your shoulders drop half an inch without you noticing they’d been up near your ears all day.

Relief washed over me. There was still an ache that hadn’t fully gone by the next morning, the kind that doesn’t come from any one hard moment but from holding several at once and not putting any of them down.

I didn’t have a way to fix the forty-five minutes at the student center. I couldn’t shorten the wait, or the silence after, or make the outcome arrive any faster than it was going to. All I had was a decision, made months ago, tested in a student center and in a parking lot with my daughter watching, and the discipline to leave it alone once I’d made it.

That’s a harder skill than it sounds like. Most of us are trained to keep managing, keep checking, keep intervening until we have proof we did it right. But some of the most important calls you’ll make, as a parent or a leader or anyone responsible for someone else’s hard day, don’t come with proof. Just the decision, and the waiting, and whatever you’re able to trust while you wait.

I’d love to hear about a time when you had to make a call and then simply live with not knowing, at least for a while, whether it was the right one. Share it in the comments below. It might just help someone navigate a similar situation. Whatever you’re holding right now, I hope you find a way to trust it.

May you lead without limits,

My clients are high performers. Ambitious. Proven. They have succeeded over and over again.

So they come to me already moving fast, and they want to move faster.

One client is months into a stalled job search. Another is staring at negative feedback she can’t make sense of, much less address. The thread running through all of them is the same: the dread that creeps in when you keep spending effort and stop seeing progress.

They expect me to tell them to push harder. Longer hours. More on the plate. It’s what has always worked for them, and it’s what their instinct screams when things slow down.

I rarely suggest any of it.

Instead, I tell them to pause. To breathe. To move their bodies. Getting out of our minds and into our bodies has a way of loosening the grip that fear and old habits have on us.

And then I ask the question that makes them go quiet:

What gives you joy?

What makes you laugh? What could you do and lose all track of time?

Most of them freeze. Not because the answer is hard, but because the question feels so out of place. So unrelated to work.

That’s exactly where the work is.

This is a hard time to be a worker, and even harder to be a leader.

With an always-on culture, there is always something to worry about. Some new threat to the business, some risk to your financial health, some stealth competitor, or just the dark and scary unknown.

The data backs up the mood. Globally, employee engagement fell to 20% last year, its lowest level since 2020, costing the world economy an estimated $10 trillion in lost productivity (Gallup, State of the Global Workplace: 2026).

When times get harder, the highest-performing leaders tend to double down. Push harder. Demand more, of themselves first and then of their teams. There is nothing wrong with asking for more when more is required.

But too often we forget the power of joy. Of the things that make us feel lighter and filled with energy instead of dread.

Today I want to explore the path less taken to keeping yourself and your team on course when things feel dark.

Classic management guidance isn’t bad, but it isn’t enough.

Most leadership advice says you stick to the basics when sentiment is down:

• Be clear about the why behind the goals. Purpose unifies a team and keeps people motivated.

• Delineate roles and decision authority. Autonomy gives people a sense of control and speeds up the work.

• Recognize great work publicly and regularly. People who are seen and valued feel more secure.

• Give and receive feedback with respect, timeliness, and specificity. When everyone knows where they stand and how they can improve, they worry less and deliver more.

These are all good practices, and they should be part of your core playbook. But sometimes they aren’t enough.

Why?

Because sometimes the work itself isn’t what motivates someone. And no amount of positive reinforcement, or even a healthy culture, can mask the insidious risk of working in a deeply uncertain environment.

Even if you lead well, there are sociopolitical and macroeconomic forces that can disrupt your business and how your team works. Tariffs, wars, supply chain breakdowns, inflation, fuel prices. They aren’t in your control, even when you build contingency plans. And even if you mitigate some of them, your clients and partners may not be able to.

It sounds grim. Perhaps it is.

So take a page from the Stoics and the Epicureans.

The Stoics believed worry is unnecessary. If you can’t control something, let it go. If you can control it, then do something about it. Either way, worry takes you nowhere.

If you can’t control macroeconomic change, stop wringing your hands over it. You can control your response, so do some prudent, anticipatory scenario planning, and then let it go.

That’s a great way to handle uncertainty. But I’ve found the human mind is an unwieldy thing. Even when you try to manage it, it squirms away. Doing the prep work is one thing. Actually letting it go is another.

This is where a dose of Epicurean philosophy keeps you on track. The Epicureans believed in the pursuit of pleasure as the highest good. They’re often misread as seeking reckless indulgence, but it’s really about making reasonable choices that increase your enjoyment and reduce your pain.

If you’re hungry, eat. If you’re tired, sleep. This isn’t about answering every craving, especially the destructive ones like abusing substances or overspending. It’s about meeting your essential needs and making yourself more comfortable.

So what happens when you marry the Stoic view with the Epicurean one?

You find a path that lowers the stress for you and your team, and gives you permission to put some joy back into your work and your life.

Permission to be less focused, on purpose.

When my clients hit a wall, they are universally surprised by what I suggest. I almost never tell them to work harder. I ask them what lights them up.

For one client, it was building a transformative children’s product. For another, it was more time with his nearly grown children. For another, it was exploring new hobbies with no need to achieve anything at all.

The activity didn’t matter. It was how it made them feel that made the difference.

For me, it’s painting and drawing. Playing games. Exploring new places. Dancing. Music. When I’m doing any of those things, I lose all track of space and time. I’m lost in the joy of it.

Here’s why these things belong woven into your days and weeks, not saved for some someday: our best work, our most creative thinking, our greatest ability to lead and collaborate, all of it comes when we are relaxed. I’m not saying fear and anger can’t produce results too. But they come with side effects you don’t want. Migraines. Fatigue. Fraying relationships. A low hum of malaise.

It’s far better to feel upbeat and ready to engage. And that only happens when you give yourself permission to spend time on the things that get you there.

It’s counterintuitive. Taking time away from your core work to loosen up and exercise different muscles can feel like you are purposefully avoiding your work. Or that you aren’t committed to your goals. But it’s actually the opposite if you’re doing it intentionally and with time bounds.

My client who was struggling with the job search felt like he would be abandoning his responsibilities to his partner and family if he took time to build out his children’s product idea. I gave him permission to time-block parts of his week for it.

Why? Because it was the one thing that made him feel better. And when he felt better, he was able to persist in his search. Even more important, he was able to show up to networking conversations and interviews with energy and enthusiasm, something he couldn’t fake. Without a positive attitude, no amount of outreach and applications was going to land him opportunities.

The pursuit of his side project idea wasn’t a distraction. It was his fuel.

When you allow yourself time to insert joyful activities into your routine, you build the capacity to sustain your energy, your resolve, and your strategic thinking when the pressure is on.

Know what lights up your team, and protect it.

Once you know how to re-energize yourself, learn what does the same for your people. Make time to hear how they’d spend their time if they had no constraints.

Then, when you can, don’t just ask. Have them share it. Make it a team activity.

Putting joy into the work isn’t only a mental break from the grind. It’s how your people come to feel fully seen. When someone gets to share their love for something, it lets everyone else share in their happiness.

The antidote to fear is joy. And just like fear, joy is contagious.

This doesn’t have to be expensive or time-consuming. A golf outing hosted by the fanatic on your team is lovely, but if that’s not in the cards, have them tell the story of how they got into the sport. A five-minute mini-lesson on Zoom. That’s it.

It sounds basic, maybe even reckless, to spend what little time you have on something unrelated to work. But giving your people the floor to share what matters to them will do more for them than any KPI review. And their teammates will feel the shift too.

Your greatest asset is your team.

The only way to truly maximize their contribution is to maximize their energy and their engagement. Using something outside of work to do it? That’s the quiet advantage the wisest leaders already rely on.

It’s time for you to use it too. For yourself, and for your team.

Your Turn

What lights you up? I’d love to hear about it in the comments. And I’d love to know how you make room in your days for those moments. If you’ve found a way to bring more joy into your team’s work, share that too. Other leaders would be grateful for it.

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May you lead without limits,

Three months into my second COO role, I got appendicitis.

I’d like to tell you it was bad luck. But I knew better. I’d been running at a pace that wasn’t sustainable from day one — convinced that proving I belonged meant doing everything at once.

Client conversations. Negotiations. A new employee evaluation process. A pricing model. Hiring. I was also trying to assess what the business actually needed most. But I couldn’t do it well, because I couldn’t do any of it well. I was doing too much.

My body made the decision my ego wouldn’t.

And here’s the part that still embarrasses me a little: when I came out of it, I worked harder. I didn’t see the appendicitis as a signal. I saw it as a distraction, something to push past so I could get back to proving myself. And the crazy thing is, it wasn’t my first time.

I carried that spiral of worry and reactivity for the rest of my time in that role. It was only after I left, with some distance, that I could see clearly: I didn’t need to be more reactive. I needed to be more strategic.

Years later, I watched a friend walk the same road.

She was the new CMO of a SaaS company serving industrial businesses. New industry, new product, but not a new function. She’d built marketing organizations from scratch before. She was ready to do it again.

She’d spent those first months mapping the marketing strategy, aligning with the executive team, and scoping the key hires she needed. Deep work. The right work. But when the company launched a new product, she couldn’t resist. She weighed in at every phase of the planning process, drawing on years of product marketing experience.

Then: silence. No feedback. No engagement. The launch kept moving without her.

She didn’t know whether to push or wait. The clock was ticking. Meanwhile, the hiring process was taking more than she’d expected. She felt stretched thin. And as the fatigue built, so did the fear that she wasn’t doing enough.

That’s when she called me.

My first question was simple: What does your boss actually need from you right now?

She paused for three full minutes.

That pause told me everything. She’d been operating on two assumptions she’d never examined: that she already knew what mattered to her boss and the leadership team, and that the answer to her exhaustion was more effort, not less.

She wasn’t unusual. Neither was I.

We’d both swallowed whole exactly what our culture tells new leaders they’re supposed to do.

Have a 90-day plan and execute it with precision.
Be omniscient about the future and make fast, quick-win decisions.
Show immediate progress and build the foundation for long-term trust.
Model healthy behaviors and work around the clock.

It’s BS. And it will kill your ability to do exactly what matters most: be the strategic leader the organization needs.

Every organization has the same core strategic context

In most organizations, there are only five things that matter most:

(1) Who is the customer?
(2) What needs are you solving?
(3) How well are you doing it?
(4) How are you doing financially?
(5) Who are the key players, how are they performing, and how strong is your relationship?

To be fair, that is a lot to digest, but it’s really what matters most. Your role, your team’s role, how you are structured as an organization, all of that must fit into the above. If you have a good understanding of these elements and if your leadership team does as well, you’re pretty far ahead of the game.

I know this because I got almost every one of them wrong.

Unfortunately, most leaders, when they start a job, don’t focus on these elements. They dive into the minutia of their department and zero in on small details. Those details are super attractive because they are fully in your purview and give you a chance to feel you’re making a mark. But they are a distraction.

When you don’t focus on the right things, you run the risk of setting the wrong strategy and simultaneously running yourself into the ground.

Remind yourself of what matters most and let the rest go

When it came to my CMO client, checking her assumptions changed everything.

She discovered that not only did folks not expect her to do any product marketing work yet, their departments weren’t ready to receive it, hence the silence. And when she checked in with the CEO, it turned out she was doing more than enough and was focused on exactly what mattered most: setting up a strong marketing strategy and creating the capacity to execute on it.

Everything else she was worried about was a distraction.

The relief she felt was immediate and rejuvenating.

I didn’t get that relief in the moment. I got it years later, sitting with enough distance to finally see the pattern clearly. Which is part of why I’m writing this now.

The REAL new job checklist

The moral of the story is to stay focused on the fundamentals and take time to align on what the job expectations actually entail. Here’s what that actually looks like — and what I wish I’d done differently.

(1) Who is the customer?

If you have more than one segment, understand why and what differentiates them. Don’t just operate in the abstract; dig into specific examples.

In my COO role, the industry was entirely new to me. I read up, attended conferences, spoke to customers. But I never gave myself permission to go deep enough. I kept thinking: I should already know this. If I don’t, customers won’t trust me. So I faked fluency instead of building it. And faking it didn’t get me closer to our customers. It took me further away from the kind of empathy that would have helped me assess our situation more strategically.

If you can, talk directly with customers. If you can’t, spend time with the people at the organization who do. Customer empathy is what differentiates those companies that can anticipate the market and those who have to react to it.

(2) What needs are you solving?

Do you understand the pain points your organization is solving? What is the ROI for your customers? Is this a one-time issue or a recurring one? Do you know what success looks like?

I could have done more customer discovery conversations early on. Our product market fit wasn’t bad, but it wasn’t optimized either — and I didn’t go deep enough soon enough. I just assumed it was sufficient because we were closing deals. Closing deals felt like proof. It wasn’t.

If you can’t describe these elements clearly, there is a real risk of product-market fit issues, or you simply aren’t going deep enough to understand the issues. It doesn’t matter if you don’t work in sales, product or marketing. These are the kind of issues that affect very department because it affects the core of the organization.

(3) How well are you doing it?

This isn’t about your team. It’s about the company as a whole. Where does the organization meet or exceed the needs, and where is it coming up short.

After we had more than two dozen customers, I didn’t pause to get real feedback. I wanted to keep pushing for growth. So we were operating and growing based on assumptions rather than verified knowledge. It didn’t show up as a miss right away. It showed up later, when we were trying to grow our sales team without a strong enough playbook. That playbook should have been built through a deeper assessment of how we were actually performing. By not building it, we slowed our progress by more than three years. This is where rushing can actually slow you down.

Why zoom out so broadly when your team only contributes to a portion of the solution? Because you’re a leader. Your job is to think bigger than your function. A different perspective — 30,000 ft or 10,000 ft or 5,000 ft — results in a different set of objectives and priorities. Being able to see each and then align as a leadership team on which one deserves your attention the most is how you calibrate appropriately.

(4) How are you doing financially?

The best leaders know that money creates or constrains opportunity. When you understand your financial reality, you have a greater grasp of what is possible.

I was so focused on minimizing spending and growing revenue that I didn’t realize I could be making strategic investments to lay the foundation for growth. It was narrow-minded — and if I’m honest, it was rooted in fear. Knowing when to invest is as important as being frugal with spending. My fear blocked that insight.

Regardless of which way things are trending, functions that identify opportunities for growth have a far higher likelihood for greater investment. Understanding both — the current constraints and the future opportunities — that’s how you create a strategy that is grounded in reality and reaches for the stars.

(5) Who are the key players, how are they performing, and how strong is your relationship?

Your people are your greatest asset. Especially in the age of AI.

Relationships are a superpower for me. I was able to build strong ones internally and externally. But the gap in my case was that I became overly anchored on the feelings of some of the team, and let that distract me from my broader leadership responsibilities. Building connection through respect is important. Overly anchoring to the need to be liked is not. That is where I fell short on this one.

Understand why your team matters and make sure they do as well. Set clear expectations for success that are both outcomes and behavior-driven.

Make the ones that are meeting the mark feel seen and valued. Make sure the ones that aren’t know where they stand quickly and clearly. If they can’t improve, move them out. This isn’t just for your sake, it’s for theirs as well. A person in the wrong role will not only not deliver, they’ll feel terrible about it to. Do them and the organization a favor, don’t hold on too long.

Develop your employees, pay them fairly, and create an open, two-way dialogue so that neither of you is ever caught off guard when an issue arises. When you have that type of relationship, you’ll create an organization that people will flock to and stay with.

(6) Stop assuming, start verifying

When in doubt, ask. Don’t fall into the trap my friend did — or the one I did — and let your fears and assumptions drive your actions.

Instead, ask your boss, your board, your customers, your team. Don’t let the stories you make up in your head guide your decisions. Get the input from the source and then decide what to do next.

(7) Make time for what’s most important and let the rest go

If you’re starting to feel overextended, don’t treat that as a sign to do more. Use it to find a way to focus instead.

Those first few weeks and months are important not just for setting direction and establishing relationships, but also for creating an operating rhythm that is sustainable.

Burn yourself out by trying to do too much, and you won’t just be too tired to do the work; you won’t have the mental energy to do it well.

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Starting a new job is the beginning of a marathon

If you’re fortunate enough to have found a role worth taking and are about to start your next gig, adopt the right mindset. Don’t get swept up by the tumult of the first 90 days. Instead, see the beginning as it actually is: the early moments for a long run.

What matters most is understanding and setting up a roadmap so you know where you are headed and why, and creating the foundation so you can sustain the work. The pace you choose is as important as the focus of your effort. Choose both wisely, and you’ll make progress on what matters most and be able to enjoy the process instead of slogging your way through it.

And if you get a little lost along the way, don’t let your ego keep you charging ahead. Pause and ask for directions. Get input. It’s not a sign you’ve missed the race. It’s a sign that you’re committed to finding your way wisely and with help when needed.

I wish someone had said that to me three months into my COO role. Before the appendicitis made the decision for me.

Success may not be predictable nor guaranteed, but you can set up the conditions well for yourself right at the start so that it’s more likely than not that you reach the key milestones that will signal you are well on your way.

Your turn

What has helped you start a new job on the right footing? Have you ever had to change course and what allowed you to do so? I’d love to hear what you recommend in the Comments. Sharing what we’ve learned doesn’t just help others, it helps reinforce our learnings so that we don’t lose them going forward.

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And if you know of someone who is starting a new role, consider forwarding this to them to help guide their early moments on the job.

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May you lead without limits,

—

P.S. If you’ve been wondering if it’s time to make a change in your career, but you haven’t figured out either what or how, the Career without Limits Retreat might be for you.

I’m hosting this intimate gathering November 12-15 in Lancaster, PA. Participants will walk away with a personalized roadmap for their career step and a memorable long weekend filled with farm-to-table gourmet meals, healing activities, and insights from a group of diverse leaders.

Spots are limited. Learn more here.

“I don’t know why I bother. Everything I share with him comes back with a thousand redlines. It doesn’t even resemble my work anymore. Even an email — he has an opinion about everything. And nothing is good enough.”

As the EVP listened during the skip-level meeting, she struggled with what to do.

One of her most senior leaders was struggling. The VP was one of the most promising hires on her team. But his team was stifled by his approach — constant redoing of work, checking in at every step. Some had already left. Those who remained were fearful and deflated.

She hired him because he was so well respected in the industry. Everyone agreed, he wasn’t just brilliant, he was the future.

None of the interviews and reference checks revealed what would happen after he came on board. He wouldn’t just bring his acumen; he would also bring a set of standards and corresponding behaviors that were unsustainable, for him and for his team.

What made him dramatically successful as an individual contributor had become just as dramatic a limitation to his ability to lead.

The EVP didn’t have an answer yet. Neither, it turned out, did the VP.

That question — what to do — is what brought her to me.

The ego trap

It’s natural to connect your identity with your achievements. And early in your career, it is what helps you get ahead.

For me, early on, it was essential that I held on to every success because I needed evidence to build my confidence and my courage. It didn’t feel like feeding my ego because my insecurities felt so much more dangerous — they were the bigger risk to my career. I needed to stop questioning myself in order to take on bigger assignments, greater challenges, and responsibilities that required new skills.

Without achievement, I would have been left floundering in the uncertainty and the stress of whether I would hit my targets, get recognized, and have more opportunities for growth.

When we start to see measurable progress, our brains register it as evidence that we can do the work and succeed. Over time, it builds our confidence. This is essential to our ability to seek out more complex work, higher-stakes mandates, and greater scope and responsibility. Our prior successes give us the evidence that we can do more, be more.

The challenge is when we start to conflate our successes with our identity — who we are and our self-worth. When we believe that we are only worthy because of our successes and that only we can succeed, that is when we have created our own cage.

Leadership is fundamentally about directing and mobilizing more than ourselves toward a goal. You simply cannot do that well if you believe that only you can do the work.

For the VP, it showed up as control — the thousand redlines, the constant corrections, the work that was never good enough.

But the ego trap doesn’t always look like the VP’s story. Sometimes it doesn’t look like control at all. Sometimes it looks like responsibility. It looks like the person staying latest, carrying the most, never letting anything drop — not because they believe they’re the best, but because they’re afraid of what it means if they’re not there to catch it.

That was my version.

The quieter version

I thought I was done with conflating my success with my identity after becoming an executive at a publicly traded company and leading a team of over 250 people. But no.

When I returned to a smaller startup, where I doubled down on the mission and attached my identity to the organization’s success, my ego reared its head again, and all the old narratives came back.

I wasn’t micromanaging my team. I was doing something that felt more virtuous — I was filling gaps. There was work that needed doing and no one with the bandwidth or expertise to do it. So I did it.

I told myself: this is temporary. This is what leaders do in early-stage companies. This is ownership.

What I didn’t say out loud — not to my CEO, not to my board, not really to myself: we need to hire someone with expertise I don’t have. And we need to hire someone to increase our capacity.

Those were structural problems. I was trying to solve them with personal effort.

The result? I overextended myself, I lost my focus, and my self confidence, again.

I ultimately reduced my scope of work (with some persistent and kind nudging from my CEO). I won’t lie, it felt like a tremendous blow. But it was the change I needed.

The question I’ve sat with since: why did it take my CEO nudging me to reduce my scope before I named that out loud?

I think I know the answer. Saying ‘I can’t fill these gaps alone’ felt like admitting I should have seen it sooner. Should have hired better. Should have built capacity before we hit the wall. The reluctance to name the structural problem was its own ego trap — not arrogance, but the story that needing help meant I had already failed.

That is the version of this trap that I almost never see written about. And it’s the one I encounter most often in the senior leaders I coach.

The limitations you don’t see

The cage starts off small. It’s all about you.

When you let your ego’s narrative that only you can do the work, you start to overwhelm yourself. When only you are the solution, then you have to do all of the work.

It starts with later nights, some weekends. It grows into rumination in bed, a racing mind when you wake up in the middle of the night. It means distraction from your personal relationships and interactions.

But then it also starts to distract you in your work meetings. Instead of focusing on the topic at hand, you’re thinking about the projects you need to finish — the ones that only you can do. But these aren’t the worst of it.

The most negative impact shows up in how your team starts to read you.

Your constant corrections and insertions get interpreted as, “I don’t trust you.” And the truth is, you don’t.

It becomes unsafe to speak up or share a thought because you’ve proven that your default is to correct, nitpick, or simply take over the work.

People stop trying or showing proactive effort. What’s the point? It ultimately won’t matter because you’ll critique the work, commandeer it,or micromanage the task until the person wants to give up.

Your team starts to simply wait for you to initiate, to think, to drive the work. You become your own worst enemy. Instead of having your team become owners, they become deferrers — waiting for you to initiate everything.

If your version looks more like mine — overreach rather than control — the limitations are less visible but equally damaging. Your team may trust you. They may even feel protected by you. But they’re not growing, because you’re carrying what should be theirs. And you’re not growing, because you’re too busy plugging holes to lead.

And that vicious cycle reinforces your ego’s narrative, “there is no one else, only you.”

Whether you arrived there through control, overreach, or by not naming the structural constraints, the destination is the same.

You burn yourself out telling yourself that “you’re being thorough,”“keeping high standards,” or “shouldering the burden for the team .” And your team stagnates, loses their ability to grow and lead, because it’s never safe to take a risk or attempt something where they might fail.

The impact is longlasting

The immediate signs are bad, but they are overshadowed by the long-term impact.

Even worse than not developing your team is losing your best talent. The most capable people want to grow. They won’t sit still while you hold them back. They will leave. Why stay when they will never be trusted?

The most devastating part? You never discover what you are capable of as a leader because your ego is making you too attached to being a doer.

When you let your ego lead, you limit your true potential. If only you can do the work, then your hours, energy, and intellect create the limit of your power.

You cannot take on bigger roles, more scope, and greater responsibility because you haven’t developed anyone around you to take over your current tasks.

Over time, you aren’t just limiting your growth; you might even be shrinking your power by depleting yourself completely.

You are exhausted, mentally and physically, because you won’t allow yourself to rest. Or because the structure genuinely can’t support the work without you — and you haven’t yet named that as the organizational problem it actually is.

When it all sits on your shoulders, how can you rest?

None of this is comfortable to sit with. I know, because I sat with it for longer than I’d like to admit.

The path forward (not a fix — an unlearning)

If you want to aim for bigger roles, more scope ,and more impact, the shift you need doesn’t start with doing more.

It starts with doing less.

Putting down the list of to-do’s, and pausing to reflect: What do you want to become?

Do you want to be the person who delegates and spends their time on the things that only they can do?

Do you want to be a leader who develops people into their potential?

Do you want to be the person whom people trust and know that you trust them?

Are you willing to be the person who doesn’t get the credit because your greatest work is invisible — it’s in the culture you build, the leaders you develop?

If you want the above, your path forward isn’t filled with more. It’s actually about being willing to be OK with less:

Not being the hero at every turn.

Not knowing every detail of every project.

Not controlling every outcome.

Being willing to name the structural gaps you’ve been filling with personal effort — and asking for what the work actually requires.

Being needed less and no longer the go-to person.

The way to shift your mindset and your behaviors isn’t by adding more. It’s about taking things off your plate to make space for reflection and unlearning.

The step too many leaders miss

If you choose this path, be aware that it will take time to resist old habits and recurring narratives. These are long-held beliefs that served you well.

To let go of all of these stories, you have to be willing to grieve and go through all the stages of grief: denial, anger, depression, bargaining, and finally acceptance.

These are not small feelings, and they do not pass without causing some waves in their wake.

Denial is the resistance to reality that feels like a way to contain the situation, but really is just a way to delay the inevitable. Reality is like gravity. You can fight it, but you already know who will win.

When I was struggling to lead all the functions I had chosen to take on, I kept pushing back on my CEO. My ego blocked my ability to see what was evident to everyone else. Denial is your ego’s first tactic. It masks what it doesn’t want you to see and justifies what it wants you to do.

Only when I broke down one evening after yet another fight with my husband about my working hours and level of stress did I start to acknowledge the truth. I was in way over my head.

And that’s when my ego moved into anger.

Anger can brew loudly, with explosiveness, or softly, with venom. In both cases, it will drain you and leave you feeling empty and without any energy left for critical thinking or resolve.

For me, anger showed up with a victim mentality. Instead of owning my part in not addressing the structural gap and instead, adopting an unhealthy hero’s mindset, I chose to defend my choices and blame everyone and everything around me.

Only when I started to take responsibility did I shift into depression, or what I’d like to call despair.

Depression showed up for me in the form of moping and retreat. My realization and role rescoping announcement came while I was on vacation at a family reunion. Instead of taking part and enjoying the festivities, I was busy nursing my wounds and feeling sorry for myself. I felt shame, guilt, and a continued sense of being wronged. I’d like to say I moved out of this phase with clarity and a renewed sense of purpose, but I didn’t. If I’m honest, it took me weeks, if not months, to truly move through the depression phase.

Bargaining showed up late for me — after I thought I was through it all. I assumed that once I’d settled into the reduced scope, my ego had made peace with reality. But no, I found myself looking for ways to insert myself into other parts of the business. My ego wasn’t done. It was just regrouping.

Bargaining is one last Hail Mary from your ego, trying once more to push against reality and what you actually need. The negotiation is just a way to delay the final step.

I only stopped negotiating when my body flat-out refused to do more. I was so exhausted and frayed. I needed rest, deep rest.

Acceptance is when you can finally move forward. It might not feel relaxed, but most people feel some release from the tension when you reach this state. You’re no longer fighting against gravity, you’re starting to work with it.

When I finally reached the stage of acceptance, I felt like a deflated balloon. I was finally ready to take on less to focus on my health, my family, and to work my way back towards more sustainable and strategic leadership.

What I didn’t realize when I was going through it was that you might have to go through this cycle over and over again. Different situations, different people will trigger different narratives, requiring you to recommit to this path and to grieve again and again.

I was 15 years into my leadership career when I was reminded: Your ego will not let go of its attachment to your success narratives without a fight. And that it will try to regain its control whenever it sees a chance.

Choose your path

If you’re feeling the burden of “only I can do the work” or have someone on your team who is struggling through it, the good news is that you (or they) can overcome these default tendencies.

It will not happen overnight, and it will require time and persistence. And the more practice you invest, the easier it will get. The cycles, when they return (notice I said “when” and not “if”), will get shorter and less stressful.

The key is to start with a strategic pause to reflect and ask yourself, “What do you want to become?”

The ego that got you here wants you to think letting go means failure. It doesn’t. It means evolution.

What I found on the other side wasn’t ease. It was clarity — and the first real sense in years that I was leading instead of just surviving.

YOUR TURN

I’d love to know which old habits no longer serve you and what you did to break free. Share them in the comments below. I read each one, and I know others will benefit, too.

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And if this post resonated with you, please consider sharing it with another leader who needs a reminder that their challenges are not unique and that they can get to the other side. I’ll be cheering them on.

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May you lead without limits,

P.S. My First Retreat — A Career without Limits

I’ve been planning something special for the fall. Many of you have reached out asking for more help in shaping your career. You might already be looking for your next adventure at your current company or another, or perhaps you haven’t yet started but would like to take a strategic pause with support.

If this is you, come and join me for my first-ever (and maybe my only) retreat on November 12-15 in Lancaster, PA. It will be a relaxing long weekend of fun, reflection, and nourishment. Spaces are limited, and as a subscriber, I’m letting you know first. Learn more here.

The narrative we’ve been sold is false.

The hockey stick up and to the right isn’t how most businesses are built, nor is it how most careers develop. Yet this is somehow the yardstick that we’ve all come to use to measure our progress against.

It’s no surprise that we believe it. Our brains gravitate toward simple ideas, even if they're filled with lies.

The actual tumult, twists, and turns of a real career (not a manufactured fairy tale) are hard to capture. They don’t make for the easiest social media posts. They’re complicated and take time to understand the context, the nuance. In short, it’s too much work to delve into, so we don’t.

Instead, we believe the false narrative that success comes from successive progress without any speed bumps or roundabouts.

And yet, examples abound to prove otherwise:

• Steve Jobs was fired at the height of his first stint at Apple.

• J.K. Rowling was on welfare, navigating depression and single-motherhood, and was rejected 12 times before the first installment of Harry Potter was published

• Babe Ruth held the record for strikeouts for decades before he became a baseball superstar.

• Thomas Edison was told he was “too stupid to learn anything” and was fired from his first 2 jobs for not being productive enough. He made 1,000 unsuccessful attempts before inventing the lightbulb.

We don’t hear these stories because we don’t seek them out, and they aren’t the sexiest headlines, especially in a culture that worships success.

They also aren’t widely available because the people featured also likely didn’t talk as much about their struggles as their successes.

Think about your friends who’ve achieved great heights. How often do you hear about their fears and setbacks?

Not often, is my guess. It’s easy to understand why not.

We are wired to peacock our wins and to hide our misses.

It’s safer to present a facade that communicates strength, power, and consistent success.

When I was feeling lost and depleted in my last job, I felt shame, guilt, and tremendous fear. It was all compounded by my intense desire to hide these feelings. It felt tantamount to surrending and admitting defeat if I acknowledged I didn’t feel steady or confident.

In fact, I remember talking to a former colleague in a catch-up call when I was particularly down, and I could see the empathy, but also the judgment in his eyes when I shared my challenges. I never heard from him again. I’m not saying he didn’t care, but our relationship wasn’t the kind that was strong enough for him to see me as anything but broken.

It’s not surprising I didn’t reveal how I was feeling to anyone else after that.

Why would I weaken my reputation?

Perception is reality, but it’s not what you think.

The people who succeed didn’t do it because they didn’t face snags. They didn’t possess magical powers, and they weren’t “the chosen ones.”

But they did find a way back to their confidence and purpose. They didn’t get there immediately (unless they were a bit delusional). There were likely many days and nights spent suffering, asking themselves existential questions.

But they eventually found their way through the darkness. Through trusted friends and family members, and through their own wisdom or faith in a higher power, they gave themselves:

They either knew or simply accepted that issues would arise. They weren’t going to achieve their vision in a linear path. And just because they faced hurdles, those weren’t a reason to give up.

Obstacles were simply part of the journey.

This view sounds simple in theory, but for people who are used to winning or who have adopted the mindset that the only way forward is up, it’s actually a rather significant shift.

It means that you understand that negative signals are necessarily indicators of long-term failure. This one is worth pausing on for a moment because cognitively, it doesn’t make sense.

How can these two statements both be true at the same time?

• You receive data that something on your critical path isn’t working

• Your success isn’t doomed

The people who can reconcile those two concepts intellectually and emotionally are the ones who can continue to persist and don’t give up.

And while persistence isn’t a guarantee for success, quitting is a guarantee that you will fail.

So the learning isn’t just to keep going, it’s how you perceive the path and your progress on it.

Because if you are to convey to anyone else that you will win, first, you have to convince yourself.

That’s the perception that matters most.

Your own.

You don’t have to do it alone.

I don’t want you to misinterpret my story above as a guide to navigate the hard times alone. In fact, I feel the opposite.

It’s not that you should isolate yourself. It’s more about being selective about who you reach out to and when.

Every leader should cultivate their network at all times.

In the good times, it’ll feel easier because you’ll be bolstered by your success and positive vibes.

In hard times, lean on your closer ties, confidants who can support you and help you sustain the work and effort it takes to move through the inevitable obstacles without judgment.

Who you choose to reveal your vulnerabilities to matters. Don’t make the mistake I made and show all your cards to a weak link. Only do this with your trusted circle or hired help.

You might be surprised that when you ask for help from someone who you’ve established a relationship, you’re not actually draining the relationship.

As David Brooks noted in “How to Know a Person,” sometimes asking for help is one of the most meaningful ways to build trust. It’s a meaningful way to signal that you value the other person so much so that you are willing to be vulnerable and that you trust their input.

Relationships built through hardship are often the ones that have a more lasting and positive impact on both parties. Don’t resist reaching out, just be thoughtful about who and when.

And the power of revealing your stumbles isn’t just in helping you navigate through them. It’ll give the people in your trusted circle room to do the same.

Imagine a world where this is repeated over and over again?

That’s how we change the narrative of success from smooth and linear to bumpy and unpredictable, and help more leaders give themselves “permission to stumble” and persist on their path to success.

If you found this post helpful, please consider liking or sharing it with other leaders you think might benefit.

And if you’re one of the leaders who have given yourself permission to stumble and are ready to push ahead — bravo! I’d love to hear how it’s going.

May you lead without limits,

P.S. If you’re looking for someone to help you navigate meaningful challenges (or opportunities) at work or in your career, I have one opening for an individual client and one opening for a team engagement this summer.

Each post contains the full recording of our conversation, my reflections, and a timestamped summary of the entire conversation at the very bottom of the post. Many thanks to my guest !

I’ll be honest — I walked into this conversation with a small amount of unconscious bias.

When I hear “retired Major General,” my movie-brain goes straight to the caricature. Rigid. Top-down. Command and control. The kind of leader who barks orders and expects silence in return. That’s the story Hollywood has been selling for decades, and most of us have absorbed it without questioning it much.

96% of American adults have never served in the military. So we fill the gap with Patton. With the archetype of the general who was a “true badass” — Robert’s words — for a particular moment in time, but whose methods would crater any modern organization.

Then I spent 40 minutes talking to Robert Mixon, Jr.

Within the first few minutes, he said something that stopped me: “I think I’ve made 99.5% of all the leadership mistakes you can make.”

He said it matter-of-factly. No performance, no setup. Just the plain truth from a man who commanded a division of thousands of soldiers, ran a manufacturing company as president, led a nonprofit, and has been coaching leaders for over a decade. He wasn’t building to a lesson. He was just telling you who he is.

That’s when I understood. Robert doesn’t represent the caricature of military leadership. He dismantles it — not by arguing against it, but simply by how he shows up.

All anybody has to do is spend two minutes with him, and they can feel it.

Chaos isn’t the exception. It’s the condition.

Robert’s framework for all-in adaptive leadership starts with an honest diagnosis of where we are right now.

He defines chaos as “raging uncertainty — where we don’t know what we don’t know.”

That phrase stuck with me. Because most of us have a vague sense that things feel hard right now. Economically. Organizationally. In ways that are hard to name.

Raging uncertainty is the language. It’s not a temporary disruption we’re waiting to resolve. It’s the water we’re swimming in.

And here’s the thing Robert and I landed on that I talk about all the time: we are all, on some level, preschoolers on the inside.

We want to know what’s for dinner. What time we’re supposed to be on the call. What the schedule looks like.

Kids respond well to preschool precisely because there’s structure — circle time, then weather, then recess, then snacks.

As adults, we’ve layered sophistication over the same basic need. We want certainty. And when it disappears, we struggle.

I recognize this in myself. When I’m anxious, I start talking faster. I fill the airspace. And all I’m doing, as a leader, is making everyone around me more anxious, too.

The leader’s job isn’t to pretend certainty exists. It’s to create enough of a container — a direction, a shared sense of purpose, a set of values that hold — so that people can function without it.

That’s what Robert calls setting the azimuth.

The Big Six — and what each one actually means in practice

Robert has distilled his leadership thinking into what he calls the Big Six principles of all-in adaptive leadership. He’s clear that these aren’t original to him. He learned them from watching great leaders, studying under people like General Colin Powell, and getting them wrong himself before he got them right.

I want to give each one the space it deserves — because these are not just principles to agree with. They’re practices to build.

1. Set the azimuth.

An azimuth is a military term for a direction of travel — a compass bearing that keeps you oriented even when the terrain changes. Robert uses it to mean your organizational true north: mission, intent, values, and the specific behaviors that bring those values to life.

Here’s what makes this different from the version most organizations do: it has to be built with the team, not handed down to them.

Robert walked us through what this looks like in practice. You sit down together and ask: Who are we? What do we do? Why do we do it? You work through mission and intent and values collectively. You define what your values actually mean in behavior — because if you don’t define them, people make up their own definitions, and those definitions are usually not right.

The azimuth also has to be measurable — which is where I think this approach really stands out and can have a lasting impact.

Robert reminded us all: “that which is measured gets done.” He learned this as a cavalry officer and as a manufacturing president.

Vague aspirations don’t hold. But when you can show progress, people see the mission isn’t just words.

And then you sustain it. Not announce it and forget about it. You persist and make it last.

2. Listen.

Robert’s mom told him: God gave you two ears and one mouth for a reason. His mom is 93. He says he still hasn’t fully delivered on her advice, but he’s working on it.

Stephen Covey said: “Listen with the intent to understand, not to reply.” Robert’s honest that 99% of us do the latter.

But there is a better way.

The practical tool he uses — and teaches — is the two-second rule. Before you respond to anyone speaking to you, wait two seconds. Just two.

The reasons are better than you’d expect.

First: the person may not be done. Interrupting is a signal of disrespect, whether you intend it or not.

Second: you give yourself time to actually think before you speak, instead of just blurting.

Third: and this one is the most powerful — when you give people a chance to finish and then wait before responding, they feel regarded. They feel like what they said mattered. That feeling, built over time, creates trust.

Robert says if you practice the two-second rule consistently for 21 days and audit yourself on it daily, you’ll watch people’s behavior change. Not because you gave them feedback. Because yours changed.

I added two more reasons:

One: if you’re having an emotional reaction to what someone said, the pause gives you a chance to catch it before it lands on the other person.

And two: when we rush, we signal anxiety. People feel that energy and mirror it back. The pause is not just a listening tool. It’s a regulation tool.

3. Trust and develop your people.

You cannot scale what you won’t release. Leaders who hoard decisions create teams that wait to be told what to do — and in a world of raging uncertainty, that is a dangerous dynamic.

Robert frames this simply: you have to trust people if you want them to grow. And developing them is not optional. It is the work.

4. Do the right thing when no one is looking.

Before anyone else. Make sure you are leading by example.

This is where Robert starts when he works with leaders who feel overwhelmed. Not with the frameworks. With the personal mission statement.

Two or three sentences: Who am I? What do I do? Why do I do it? Write it. Write the values and operating principles that follow from it. What can people expect from me? What do I expect from them? Sign it. Date it. Share it with your team.

Now you have put a marker in the ground that you can be held to — and that you can hold yourself to. Robert calls these “daily audits.” Are you walking the talk? Not sometimes. Habitually. Not episodically.

What I find so powerful about this is that it mirrors what I work on with my clients in the ME Work — the inner operating system that makes everything else possible. When you haven’t taken care of yourself, you are not able to focus on the people around. you.

Robert arrived at the same place through the military, through boardrooms, through coaching: The first person you have to lead is you.

5. When in charge, take charge.

This is the one that sounds like the caricature — but turns out to be its opposite.

When Robert says “take charge,” he does not mean be loud, rigid, or directive. He means: be the calm.

Embody what he calls tactical patience. Be the one who says, “We may not know all the answers, but we have an azimuth, we have each other, and we are going to get through this together.”

And then — critically — underwrite mistakes. Not punish them. Learn from them. That distinction is the difference between a team that takes initiative and a team that pretends to.

6. Balance the personal and professional.

Most people hear “balance” and think: how many hours am I on Zoom? Am I the last one to leave the office?

Robert reframes it entirely. You cannot manage time — it is finite. What you can do is take more ownership of how you show up within it. The way you do that is by sustaining your four levels of energy: physical, mental, emotional, and spiritual.

Think of them as battery levels. If they’re depleted, you’re running the five previous principles on fumes. If they’re protected and restored, you have something real to give.

This isn’t soft. It’s structural. A depleted leader creates a depleted team.

The two questions that define your culture

One of the most clarifying moments in the conversation came when Robert posed a simple scenario.

Something goes wrong in your organization. It happens daily — that’s the world we’re in. The boss turns to someone on the team and asks a question.

Option one: “What were you thinking?”

Option two: “What did we learn here?”

Feel the difference. Not just in tone. In what each question creates.

The first is a verdict dressed up as a question. It signals blame. It tells your team that mistakes are dangerous. And in a world of raging uncertainty, if your team believes mistakes are dangerous, they will stop making decisions. They will wait. They will cover themselves.

The second is an invitation. It signals learning. It tells your team that their judgment is trusted, even when it falls short. It builds what Robert calls a culture of commitment — where people are genuinely all in because they belong, they matter, and their stumbles are treated as part of the work.

Robert calls this the difference between “sins of commission” and “sins of omission.”

Mistakes made while genuinely trying to do the right thing within the mission and values are supposed to happen. They are not a crisis. They are the necessary data and the signals you need to lead well.

Toxicity lives in the blame game, he said. Not sure if you believe him? Just look around you. In the organizations with the greatest distrust, the greatest fear — fear of blame is likely one of the core reasons.

Respect is specific, not aspirational

Here’s where the conversation got practical in a way that surprised me.

We started talking about how you actually bring values to life — not just post them on a wall and call it culture. Robert pushed on the word “respect.” Most organizations say they value it. But what does it look like?

He walked us through a workshop where a team sat with that question in silence. Then the ideas starting coming out. They weren’t bad, but none of them were measurable — all of them were subjective and required context to assess.

Robert went back to “that which is measured gets done,” and he challenged the team, “What if we just do things on time?”

The room shifted.

That’s a behavior that isn’t up for interpretation. It’s measurable. And every person on that team had felt the disrespect of the opposite — meetings that ran long with no agenda, colleagues who arrived late without acknowledgment, time treated as an abundant resource when it is the one thing no one can get back.

Robert told us he estimates he’s lost roughly 8,000 hours of his life in meetings with no agenda, no clear start, no clear end. Just stories about trout fishing and nothing that had anything to do with why people were in the room.

Being on time is not a small act of professionalism. It’s a statement. It says: I value your time. I follow through on commitments. I show up the way I said I would.

The question he left us with: what behavior in your organization, if your team committed to it and sustained it for 21 days, would actually shift the culture?

That’s not rhetorical. It’s where to start.

Managing up when the culture isn’t there yet

Not everyone listening leads from the top. And not everyone at the top is creating the conditions Robert describes.

So I asked him directly: what do you do when you see the need but you’re not the one setting the tone for the whole organization?

His answer was one of my favorites in the entire conversation.

Don’t walk into your boss’s office and tell her she’s doing it wrong. Even if she is. Especially if she is. You will raise her defenses, and you will lose before you’ve started.

Instead, ask for a pilot. In your own team. For 90 days. Give your boss regular updates — what Robert calls a “back brief” — showing what you’re learning and what value it’s creating. Let her see results without feeling threatened by critique.

Evidence is more powerful than argument. Always.

If you can create a pocket of culture within your own sphere of influence, people notice. They want what you have. The culture spreads not because someone mandated it, but because someone made it visible, and real and worth wanting.

What I took away

I asked Robert at the end what he wanted people to walk away with.

He said: “Leading effectively through chaos is hard work. It’s adult work. But it’s doable if you’re committed to the journey.”

No promise that it gets easy. No guarantee that the frameworks fix everything. Just the honest invitation to commit to the work — of leading yourself, and then of leading others — with intention and consistency.

I left this conversation thinking about my own preschooler tendencies. The moments when raging uncertainty has made me want certainty so badly that I’ve defaulted to control, to speed, to telling instead of asking. The moments I’ve broken the two-second rule. The times I’ve asked “What were you thinking?” instead of “What did we learn here?”

I also left thinking about what it means to carry 33 years of service and still introduce yourself by saying: I’ve made almost every mistake there is. That posture — that refusal to perform authority — is exactly what I mean when I write about leading from the inside out. It’s the ME Work made visible. It’s what genuine credibility looks like.

Robert didn’t just talk about a different kind of leadership. He was a living example of it for 40 minutes.

All anybody has to do is spend two minutes with him, and they can feel it.

If you can spare the time, watch the video. You won’t regret it. Before the Substack Live, I was feeling tired (a terrible night sleep) and behind on my day. But in our 15 min right before the Live started, talking with Robert, I just felt myself light up.

That’s what real leadership looks like. It isn’t about the title, or the authority. It’s about being able to see someone fully and to help them see themselves just as completely. It is a gift. And conversations with gifted leaders like Robert remind me of the importance of simple actions done with great strategic intent and care.

That’s the “all in leadership” that Robert teaches, and it’s exactly what the world needs more of right now.

About Robert Mixon Jr.

Robert is a retired U.S. Army Major General, former corporate executive, and founder of Level 5 Associates. He is the author of We’re All In and The Power of Being All In, both of which include tools you can start using today. The first chapter of each book is available as a free download at level5associates.com.

He writes All In Adaptive Leadership Insights on Substack, where he publishes practical leadership tools multiple times each week. Go find him.

If you enjoyed this post, consider giving it ❤️ to help more people find it on Substack. And consider sharing it with a leader you know who is navigating tough times — this might be exactly what they needed to help them lead calmly through the chaos of our times.

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May you lead without limits,

Your Timestamped Guide to the Conversation

Timestamp — What We Covered

00:00 — Welcome and introductions — Robert’s background across military, corporate, and nonprofit leadership

03:28 — Robert’s origin story: “I’ve made 99.5% of all the leadership mistakes you can make”

05:01 — Defining chaos as raging uncertainty — and why humans crave certainty at every age

07:23 — Introduction to All-In Adaptive Leadership and the Big Six principles

07:38 — Principle 1: Set the azimuth — true north, mission, values, behaviors defined collectively

07:53 — Principle 2: Listen — the two-ear, one-mouth rule and the gap between what we know and what we practice

08:50 — Principles 3–6 overview: trust and develop, lead yourself first, when in charge take charge, balance personal and professional

09:41 — Reframing “work-life balance” as energy management across four levels

11:01 — Where to start when the Big Six feel overwhelming — begin with a personal mission statement1

2:07 — Vulnerability as a leadership strength, not a weakness

14:02 — Learning the Big Six from General Colin Powell

14:51 — The two-second rule for listening — and why it changes team behavior within 21 days

16:06 — Kathy adds: the two-second rule as an emotional regulation tool, not just a listening tool

17:10 — “Fire, ready, aim” — why speed without pause is a bad technique in leadership and in life

18:00 — What it looks and feels like to be the calm in the chaos

20:28 — The fix-it trap: when problem-solving becomes the wrong default

21:36 — The fairy tale of the all-knowing leader and why directive leadership is largely ineffective

22:52 — Building buy-in through collective problem definition — getting people part of the solution

23:21 — Belonging as a fundamental human need and what it takes to create it at work

24:03 — Sins of commission vs. sins of omission — underwriting mistakes vs. the blame game

24:34 — The two questions that define your culture: “What were you thinking?” vs. “What did we learn here?”

25:31 — The five levels of culture and why levels one and two leave people feeling like they don’t belong

27:44 — Respect as a leadership value — and what behaviors actually bring it to life

29:57 — The 8,000 wasted hours and why meeting discipline is an act of respect

31:20 — How the two-second rule and meeting discipline together can shift an organizational culture

32:02 — Building accountability through shared, written, signed commitments

34:00 — The azimuth-setting process in practice — how to build it collectively with your team

34:16 — Managing up when the culture isn’t there yet — the 90-day pilot program approach

36:43 — “Evidence is more powerful than critique”

37:27 — Closing reflections: it’s adult work, it’s doable, it requires commitment to the journey

38:53 — Kathy’s reflection: busting the military leadership caricature

39:24 — Robert’s response: the misidentification of military leadership and what it actually looks like

A while back, I wrote a piece about the uncomfortable topics you should share with your direct reports during onboarding.

It’s unusual to dive into fears, risks, and disappointments at the outset. But those honeymoon, sunshine-filled days are exactly when you both should talk about the prospect of dark times.

Beyond the topics themselves, what I was really getting at is that while a relationship is still forming and still positive, that’s the best time to talk about the tough topics that will only get more awkward and difficult over time.

When the inevitable challenges arise, and they will, the fear that you and your direct report will be feeling will cloud your judgment. It’ll create suspicion and doubt. It will erode trust when you need it most.

What I didn’t share in that piece is how you can guide your people to more productive behaviors and how to work with you (a la your user manual).

In a world dominated by one-line tweets and abbreviated text messages, if I were leading a team today, I’d opt to write a letter to share my thoughts.

Here’s what I’d say. Please feel free to borrow.

A letter to my team

Dear team,

I’m writing to you because I want our working relationship to be as strong as possible, not just because it will help us achieve our mission and goals, but because I believe that one of the greatest gifts of work is the people you meet and the relationships you build.

Your talents and efforts will help us achieve our goals, but that’s small potatoes. I value you more than simply as a body in a seat.

What matters as much and perhaps more is how your energy, personality, and wisdom will enrich the experience of everyone on this team, including mine. You being here will make this journey more enjoyable and more memorable.

That said, I also recognize that we each have roles to fill, and that even if things are working well now, that may change in the future.

Whether it’s market dynamics, your interests, or my behaviors, the nature of work is that things change and not always positively.

Preparing for tough times can go a long way toward ensuring we do what’s best for the organization and preserve our relationship, which I hope lasts long beyond our time working together.

My mandate as a leader isn’t just to hit our short-term goals — annual targets and the like — it’s to create an organization that delivers on its promises, functions well, and has a long-term, sustainable future.

I hired you not just because you met the criteria in the job description, but because you possessed these critical attributes:

• A deep desire to grow and develop your skills and your career

• An alignment with the mission of our organization that goes beyond your functional role

• A belief that working together, we can accomplish more than if we were working apart

With all this in mind, I wanted to share with you what I wish my bosses had shared with me when we first started working together.

1. Your potential is infinite, but only if you manage it. If you see work in other areas you are interested in, ask about them. If there is a project you want to be assigned to, tell me. If you want to develop into a different role, say it. Help me help you.

2. Help me focus. My time is far more limited than my role demands. I care about you and your work, and I don’t think about either enough. I need you to make it easy for me to focus on what matters. Weekly, brief summaries of progress and obstacles, preparing for our 1:1s with a structured agenda, and creating dashboards that are easy for me to review are just some examples. Not sure, send a draft to me and let’s workshop it together.

3. Debate openly and often. Your thinking elevates the team's thinking. We will only arrive at the best answers if we can openly discuss and debate our ideas. Please know that even if I don’t agree with you, I value diverse insights, shared thoughtfully far more than I will ever value groupthink.

4. Know the why. Experimentation and exploration are valuable, but only if there is a hypothesis we are testing. If you aren’t sure about the why, ask until you get a clear answer. Always be willing to cut work that lacks a clear purpose.

5. Feedback is a gift. If something isn’t going well in our work together, tell me. Nothing will be gained by waiting. If it’s something I wasn’t aware of, give me a chance to own it. If it’s something I don’t agree with, you deserve to know. Feelings can fester, frustrate, and distract. Don’t let them.

6. When it’s time to go. Let’s talk it out and let’s plan it out. We don’t have to be dramatic, and we don’t have to have it hurt our working relationship. The best organizations have succession plans. Ideally, we’re planning together through the end and beyond.

My career was built on relationships: colleagues, bosses, clients, and partners. It is and was the way of the world. If you agree, then invite you to discuss any of the above points with me at any time.

Our journey together will not last forever. Let’s make the most of the experience and set ourselves up for far more than our shared tenure.

With respect and appreciation,

Not vaguely uncomfortable. Not mildly skeptical. Scared. The kind of scared where you watch everyone else jump in and you tell yourself you’re being thoughtful when really you’re just standing at the edge.

Here’s what made that strange: I am not someone who usually hangs back from technology.

I built some of the first websites on the internet. I walked the halls of Sand Hill Road, helping Silicon Valley’s most ambitious technology innovators bring their ideas to the financial markets. I was part of the team that helped launch one of the first video streaming platforms: Hulu. I remember when all of that felt like science fiction.

And yet. In 2023, when people I respect were already years deep into AI, I was still watching from the door.

I’ve been sitting with why that was. And a conversation I had with Kristi Pihl gave me language for something I think I already knew. (Watch the full conversation here).

Kristi is a Northwestern-trained mechanical engineer who has been building AI systems since 2017. Her work earned a TIME Best Invention in AI in 2019. She has spent two decades as a strategic tech advisor inside some of the most complex organizations in the world. She knows this technology from the inside.

And when we talked, she spent almost no time on the technology itself.

She kept coming back to this: AI is a mirror. It is a language-based model designed to reflect back what you give it. Which means if you approach it with fear, with defensiveness, with a need to look capable before you actually are... that is exactly what gets amplified.

She called it an accelerant. Not just an amplifier.

“If you’re already going to make the wrong turn,” she said, “you’re just going to make it faster.”

I’ve been thinking about that in the context of my own 2023 self. Because the fear I felt wasn’t really about the technology. It was about what the technology might reveal. About gaps I hadn’t named yet. About a version of my thinking that might not look as sharp under a microscope. About being exposed as a novice, undeserving of my title or my authority.

The fear was mine. AI just had the potential to show it to me faster.

Your C-suite is probably not afraid of AI.

They’ve done the work. They’ve committed budget, assembled a task force, chosen a platform. They have a plan and they are executing it.

But I want to ask you something.

When the board asked about your AI strategy, did you answer from clarity or from pressure? Did you build the plan because you knew what your organization needed, or because the alternative felt like falling behind? Was it a decision from your best thinking, or a decision from FOMO dressed up as strategy?

Kristi sees hundreds of organizations from her vantage point as an advisor and investor, and there’s a clear pattern: almost every organization she encounters right now believes they are behind. Behind their competitors. Behind the market. Behind some imaginary benchmark set by a press release from a tech CEO whose actual numbers, she noted, do not hold up to scrutiny.

The pressure is real. Boards are breathing down necks. Middle managers are automating workflows before anyone has asked whether those workflows were actually the problem. Everyone is running. And running faster, she reminded me, in the wrong direction is worse than running slowly in the right one.

Here’s the thing: neuroscience and psychology are aligned on this. Decisions made out of fear are rarely good ones. The bear chasing you in your mind doesn’t actually exist. The tiger is not in the room. What is in the room is a manufactured sense of urgency, a FOMO cycle fed by headlines, and a leadership team that has not yet had the harder conversation underneath the AI conversation.

The harder conversation is about what AI cannot fix.

It cannot fix a product that doesn’t fit its market. It cannot fix a pricing model that isn’t resonating. It cannot fix teams that have stopped communicating honestly with each other. It cannot fix a culture where people are overtaxed, understaffed, and quietly disengaged.

What AI will do is accelerate all of those things. Amplify them. Make them more visible, faster, at a greater scale.

This is where I keep coming back to the work I do with senior leaders. Not the AI strategy. The ME Work underneath it.

Because the leaders I coach who are quietly questioning their AI choices are rarely questioning the tools. They’re questioning whether their organizations are actually ready to use them well. And that question almost always leads somewhere more personal: do my teams trust each other enough to have the conversations that would tell us the truth? Are we making this decision from our best thinking, or from our fear of looking like we don’t have the answers?

Kristi described it this way: the leaders who use AI well already have the native judgment to evaluate it. They can tell when it’s being sycophantic. They can sense when it’s pulling from a random source instead of settled science. They have the critical thinking to know when to trust the output and when to push back.

That judgment takes time to build. It takes reps. And here’s the existential problem: if we automate the work that builds that judgment before the next generation has developed it, we don’t just lose the output. We lose the succession pipeline. We raise leaders who have offloaded their thinking before they ever owned it.

You can offload a task. You cannot offload understanding.

So what do you actually do with this?

There’s no skipping the hard part. Because the hard part is the point.

The first thing is to slow down enough to ask an honest question: what is the real problem we are trying to solve? Not “how do we implement AI?” but “what decisions are we making poorly, and why?” Not “how do we use these tools?” but “do we have the culture, the trust, the communication norms that would let us use any tool well?”

The second is to look at your leadership team with fresh eyes. Not at their AI literacy. At their judgment. At whether they are having the real conversations or the performative ones. At whether fear is running the room or curiosity is.

Kristi’s advice for getting grounded was simple: go talk to someone you trust who has no skin in the game. Not your board. Not your investors. Not the vendor selling you the platform. The colleague from ten years ago who always told you the truth. The mentor who is two levels ahead and has no incentive to flatter you. Your nine-year-old, who, as Kristi reminded me, is considerably more skeptical of AI than most executives.

Make your world smaller for a moment. The real signal is usually there, in the people who knew you before you had something to prove.

I am no longer scared of AI.

Well, that’s not entirely true. I am still fearful of the existential questions. But the day-to-day business implementations. I’m over that. AI is simply part of the evolution of business building.

What helped was not a course, a certification, or a deployment plan. What helped was getting honest about what I was actually afraid of. And then doing the work to address that, not the technology.

The fear was a signal. It was pointing somewhere real. The moment I stopped trying to bypass it and started getting curious about it, things shifted.

Your organization’s relationship with AI is telling you something about your organization. The question worth asking is not whether you’re ahead or behind. It’s whether you’re actually listening.

If this conversation sparked something, I’d love to hear what you’re navigating. Hit reply or share in the comments and tell me what the real conversation underneath your AI strategy actually is. The best ones always start there.

And if you are interested in understanding how to think about AI through the lens of a long-term strategist, not just a short-term tactician, subscribe to Kristi’s Substack — Systems & Spines and follow her on LinkedIn — trust me, you’ll be happy you did.

May you lead without limits,

In just under an hour, we covered something I have been thinking about ever since: AI isn’t exposing your organization’s weaknesses. It’s amplifying whatever was already there.

The great decisions get made faster. The poor ones do too. We talked about FOMO-driven boardrooms, the judgment-suppression risk no one is discussing, why the “point of decision” is the only unit of analysis that actually matters, and what it really means to lead with humanity in this moment.

Kristi also shared the personal story behind her pivot from two decades inside the machine to writing, teaching, and angel investing — and why she thinks the next generation of truly exceptional leaders will be the ones who can hold both their quant brain and their human one at the same time.

If you missed it live, here’s your guide to the conversation:

Timestamped Guide

• 0:00 Welcome and introductions

• 3:00 The central thesis: AI as a mirror, not a tool

• 5:00 AI as amplifier and accelerant — going faster in the wrong direction

• 7:00 The judgment-suppression risk and what it means for succession planning

• 10:00 What Kristi sees inside organizations right now: FOMO, board pressure, and the performance narrative

• 14:00 Why acting from fear almost never produces good strategy

• 15:00 AI as a path back to our humanity — the unexpected case for reconnection

• 19:00 OpenAI as a case study: when the “point of decision” goes wrong

• 21:00 Why judgment alone isn’t enough — and what the actual base unit of strategy is

• 25:00 The three intelligences: human, algorithmic, and artificial — and how to lead across all three

• 29:00 The limits of quant leadership and what AI is forcing us to reckon with

• 34:00 The next generation of exceptional leaders: holding the quant brain and the human one together

• 38:00 How to cut through the noise: slowing down as a competitive advantage

• 40:00 Kristi’s “humanity checker” and the case for trusted, low-stakes voices

• 42:00 The return of third places — and why shrinking your world might be the wisest move you make

• 47:00 Kristi’s career pivot: from the inside of the machine to writing, teaching, and investing

• 51:00 Why she’s considering teaching AP Physics and AP Calc to high schoolers

• 53:00 Angel investing, women founders, and seeing problems differently

• 57:00 What Gen Z already knows about AI — and the wisdom in their skepticism

• 58:00 Where to find Kristi: Systems and Spines on Substack and LinkedIn

Stay in touch with Kristi Pihl through her Substack: Systems and Spines and on LinkedIn.

I took the investment banking offer because I was afraid.

Not afraid of the job. Afraid of what would happen if I went after the one I actually wanted — and they said no.

The bank was platinum. Everyone wanted it. Saying yes felt like winning. What nobody saw was what I was using it to hide.

My fear. It was nearly all-consuming. Not just of interviewing, although the mini-panic attacks were bad. No, it was a deeper kind of fear.

I took the job because I was terrified that it was the only job offer I was going to get.

What if they had made a mistake? What if no one else would find me worthy of their ranks? What if the companies that I actually wanted rejected me?

I didn’t even know I was doing it, but I had let my fear win. I had let it trap me.

That was 25 years ago.

I went on to become a two-time CEO. The fear came with me.

Time doesn’t make the fear go away.

Going after what you really want, knowing that you could be rejected, that kind of fear doesn’t care about your age or your title.

It can find a way through, no matter where you are in your career.

Inertia is often fear in disguise.

“I know I should… but I just can’t,” he confessed with his eyes cast down, when I asked him why he hadn’t started networking.

I was meeting with a prospective client, a C-suite exec, who had just shared that he had known months ago that his current job wasn’t a good fit.

There was no path for growth, he was undercompensated compared to the market, and he didn’t enjoy the culture — all work, no play.

He knew he should be making a move, but couldn’t bring himself to start the process. After nearly 9 months, he finally reached out to me after his wife nudged him to get help.

I could hear the same rationalizations I made when I let my fear guide me. The time constraints and concerns about his resume, and worries about not knowing the right direction.

And then he paused and took a breath:

“I’m not sure anyone else will see what I have to offer.”

He looked at me, waiting for me to respond. Acknowledging it meant facing his fear. It was one of the most courageous statements I’ve ever heard from a leader.

There is something about the job search process that transforms everyone, even the most confident, successful leader, into a self-doubting, anxious, skittish person.

The judgment, the rejection, and these days, the ghosting.
It’s all too much.

The truth is, we’re all being evaluated in our jobs at every moment, but somehow, the quarterly targets or annual performance reviews create a facade that we are only on the chopping block a few times a year. The rest of the time, we breathe a false, but satisfying sigh of relief.

And so we stay — far longer than we should — in jobs that we’ve outgrown, in companies that drain us of our energy and our spirit.

Job searching is a special kind of torture.

For senior leaders who are used to being the decision-makers, the ones with the answers, the ones leading the charge for their teams, job searching flips the script.

From having the authority and the power to relinquishing both and becoming just another candidate who has to prove themselves and is at the beck and call of the hiring team — it’s a hard transition.

I get why so many leaders avoid starting the process (until they are forced to).

A two-time CEO and COO, and yet I was still plagued with the fears of my twenty-year-old self.

I was so scared of facing the unknown that I didn’t even realize I wanted to leave the company. That’s how fear works — it clouds your judgment, and it manufactures excuse after excuse to help you explain why.

Before you know it, days become weeks and weeks become months.

The job search doesn’t frighten people because it’s hard. It frightens them because it’s the one place where the thing that actually matters to them is on the line.

Worthiness. Belonging. Being chosen by the place that counts.

The fear brings you back to being eight years old. Waiting to be chosen for the kickball team. Answering wrong when the teacher called on you, the whole class watching.

These moments aren't weakness. They're just what it felt like to be human before you learned to hide it.

The secret to starting the job search process isn’t complicated.

It all starts with mindset.

The thing about a job search is that most people think of it the wrong way:

“I need to find a place that will hire me into the role I want with the pay I want.”

When actually, the right way to think about it is:

When you flip the script from “I need to find a way in” to “I need to help them find me,” you approach the process with a completely different attitude:

One of service instead of one of desperation.

In fact, when you use this approach, you realize it's less about letting go of your power and more about having the opportunity to be freed from the daily responsibility of thinking about everyone else instead of yourself.

Rather than worrying about all the people, processes, systems, tools — or what you do every day — you get to simply focus on what makes you incredible and what you can do to help an organization.

And instead of visualizing yourself running a gauntlet with hiring teams out to shoot you down, think of it as a chance to get to know organizations that need you.

You get to showcase your achievements, capabilities, and acumen, and be recognized for them. Unlike much of the rest of your work (and probably life), this entire process is about you.

Today, what I tell my clients is what I would tell my twenty-year-old self:

It’s not about taking a different job. It’s not about the job at all.

The fear you’re hiding from already knows where you live. Don’t let it keep you smaller than you actually are.

If this piece struck a chord, please consider sharing it with someone who you know will benefit. There are so many excellent leaders who are either out of work or wish they were, and are struggling with their next step.

If this can help just one of them, I would be so grateful.

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And if you are open to sharing your journey or a tip on how to get past the fear, the ick, the avoidance that holds up so many leaders from kicking off their search, I’d love to hear it.

Feel free to reply to this email (if you’re a subscriber) or add it to the Comments.

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May you lead without limits,

P.S. If you’re a leader who is thinking about what’s next, but you just aren’t sure. I’d love to chat.

I’m building something new for this fall. It’ll be a chance to step away from your day-to-day and give yourself the space to jumpstart your career.

If you want to learn more, send me a note. I’d love your input.

I came across a post he wrote in the Journal of Free Black Thought last year about what actually creates inclusion — not the slogans, not the frameworks with pretty acronyms, but the conditions under which real people genuinely contribute. And I thought: this person has done the work.

So I invited him to a Substack Live conversation. And I am so glad he agreed.

You can watch the entire conversation above or read the highlights below — the ideas I wish I had as a leader, and what I think every leader needs today. I’ve tried to organize them into themes, but if you want the full energy of the conversation, you need to hear Amri live.

Belonging vs. Mattering: Why the Difference Changes Everything

I’ve been in rooms — many of them — where someone was technically included. They were invited to the meeting. Their name was on the email. But their actual thinking, their particular expertise, the thing only they could bring? It was either overlooked or quietly ignored.

That’s belonging without mattering. And it turns out they are not the same thing.

Amri introduced me to a framework from researcher Zach Mercurio called NAN: Noticed, Affirmed, Needed.

• Noticed — Do you actually see the people around you? Do you notice what they’re working on, what they’re wrestling with, what they just accomplished?

• Affirmed — Can you articulate what someone brings to the table? Not a generic compliment. Can you specifically name their value?

• Needed — Do they know that without their particular contribution, the work is diminished?

The puzzle piece analogy is useful here: belonging is about whether the piece fits the puzzle. Mattering is about whether the puzzle needs that particular piece in order to be whole.

When you confuse the two, something goes wrong. I shared a story from my own time as a CEO. I remember sitting with my leadership team setting priorities, which every organization has to do.

The problem was never the priorities. The problem was how we communicated them.

We would, without quite meaning to, create a hierarchy of importance inside the company. Engineering was the most critical function right now — and somehow “most critical” became “most valued.” Everyone else could feel themselves shrinking. The sales team. The operations team. The people who were keeping things running.

That’s what Amri calls “anti-mattering.” And once it kicks in, the research is pretty clear about what happens: discretionary effort drops. Creativity drops. The willingness to ask good questions, share difficult observations, take risks — all of it goes down. People shift into survival mode. And survival mode is not the mode in which your next innovation gets built.

The Ubuntu Principle: Why Mattering Is Always Reciprocal

One of the things I appreciate most about Amri’s thinking is that he doesn’t let you stay comfortable in a top-down view of leadership. Mattering, he argues, is not something leaders dispense from above. It’s a reciprocal model.

He invoked Ubuntu: I am because you are. It’s the idea from post-apartheid South Africa, from Nelson Mandela and Desmond Tutu, that identity and value are not solo projects. They’re built in relationship. You cannot separate yourself from your organization and think you’ll build something great alone.

What this means practically is this: when you make people feel like they matter less, you are not just being unkind. You are making a strategic error. You are diminishing the part of your network that might hold the ideas you don’t yet know you need. You are cutting the “weak ties” — the people just outside your inner circle — who are, as Amri pointed out and the organizational network research backs up, often the source of the most surprising and valuable insight.

He told a story that made this vivid. A colleague of his at a major pharma company — a brilliant mind who had been quietly building an internal AI capability on the side, mapping who in the organization had machine learning skills and who was just beginning to explore them — was being ignored by his manager. The manager didn’t understand what he was building. Didn’t see its value. Eventually, his manager put him on a performance improvement plan.

Amri’s colleague left. Went to a competitor. And became one of the leading AI architects in the Cambridge biotech ecosystem.

His company lost him because no one could see what he brought.

The story is about more than a bad manager. It’s about a system that wasn’t designed to notice the right things. And systems, Amri reminds us, create behavior. Structure creates culture. If your incentive structures reward individual output over collective contribution, you shouldn’t be surprised when people optimize for themselves.

The “DEI-Allergic” Leader — and Why This Conversation Is for You Too

Amri and I deliberately named this conversation, “Mattering for the DEI-Allergic.” And yes, it didn’t land for everyone.

Some people were frustrated by the framing. I understand that. I want to address it directly, because the frustration itself is instructive.

The allergy, Amri argued, was never to the underlying principles. Nobody looks at a room full of people who are contributing brilliantly, being genuinely seen for what they bring, and says: I want less of that.

The allergy was to the way the conversation was framed — often as a moral debt to be paid, with slogans in place of substance, centering group identities and grievance above all else, and with equity defined so broadly it became operationally meaningless.

Amri was clear: he wouldn’t have put DEI on the cover of his book if it hadn’t been in vogue at the time. He would have called it inclusion. Because that’s what he actually believes in — creating the conditions for people to thrive, and for organizations to generate what he calls “thick value”: the return on intangibles that don’t show up on your P&L but absolutely show up in your valuation, your ability to retain talent, and your capacity to build anything new.

Mattering is a different entry point into the same territory. It doesn’t ask anyone to take a political position. It asks: Does this person know what they bring? Do they know we need it? Are we building the systems that let that show up?

That’s not soft. That’s strategic.

The Structural Reality: How Leaders Actually Create (or Destroy) Mattering

Here’s what I will hold onto going forward: mattering is not a feeling you inspire with a good speech. Mattering is a condition you build — or fail to build — through the decisions you make every day.

Amri put it simply. Structure is a set of behaviors that creates a different tenor or condition for others to mirror. When your direct reports see you notice the person two levels below you and write them a specific, handwritten note about something they did well — that becomes a norm. Norms become rituals. Rituals become culture.

He made the point about senior leaders writing personal notes — not email, not Slack, but actual notes, four or five a week, to people outside their direct report line. When they see something, they write it down. Then they send it. He calculated: if you do that two or three times a week, times 52 weeks — you’ve touched over 100 people with a specific, genuine act of recognition.

That’s structure. Most people wouldn’t call it that. But it is.

I shared some of my own limitations here, and I want to be honest about it. When I was a CEO, I wanted to create the conditions where people genuinely mattered. I didn’t always have the language for it, but that was the intent. And then the sales pipeline would fall behind, or the marketing campaign would stall, or we’d be in the middle of building out an entirely new evaluation system, and the intention would get crowded out.

Looking back, I don’t think it was entirely an intentionality problem. It was partly a knowledge problem — I didn’t have the specific, concrete tools that Amri gave me in this conversation. And partly it was a capacity problem. I couldn’t do everything.

So I asked him: What does the overwhelmed leader actually do? And he said, without hesitation: One thing. Consistently.

Pick one behavior. Do it every week. Let it become a habit. Ask your direct reports to do the same. Let the habit become structure.

It’s not complicated. But you do have to commit.

The Ask as an Act of Mattering

I love this one. I first learned about it as a trust-building exercise from David Brooks in his book, How to Know a Person: The Art of Seeing Others Deeply and Being Deeply Seen. It still blows my mind.

Asking someone for help — genuinely asking, not assigning, not delegating, but saying “I’ve been wrestling with this, what do you think?” — is itself an act of mattering.

Amri connected this to Marshall Goldsmith’s Feed Forward practice: instead of giving feedback on what happened, you ask for input on what you’re thinking through. There’s no evaluation involved. Just: here’s a direction I’m considering, what do you see?

It works, Amri said, because it gives people the opportunity to add value without judgment. And when people add value, they feel like they matter. And they do because their input adds to your thinking. It’s a loop. A good one.

The same logic explains why research indicates that employee volunteering is the only employee benefit outside of healthcare that truly makes a difference in employee engagement. Once you understand mattering, it’s obvious.

Volunteering is one of the cleanest expressions of mattering that exists: you contribute based on your choice, you see the direct impact, and you do it as a whole person, not a job title, and if you do it with your colleagues, you’re seeing the power of collective work. Of course, it moves the needle on engagement more than free lunches or office massages. It’s the one benefit that is entirely focused on people mattering.

Timestamp Guide

If you’d like to go straight to a specific section of the conversation, here’s where to find it:

00:00 — 04:00 | Opening: Introductions and frames the “DEI-allergic” framing
04:00 — 15:15 | Amri’s background: Topeka, Morehouse, epidemiology, Atlanta, Cook Ross, and how he got into this work
15:20 — 19:30 | The mattering construct: where it comes from, how it differs from belonging
19:30 — 23:00 | Noticed, Affirmed, Needed — the NAN framework
23:00 — 28:00 | Ubuntu and interdependence; how anti-mattering cascades through an organization
28:00 — 36:00 | Layoffs, weak ties, and the story of the AI genius who was lost
36:00 — 41:30 | Incentive structures: what happens when rewards don’t align with mattering
41:30 — 45:00 | The “DEI-allergic” framing unpacked; what the allergy is really about
45:00 — 49:00 | Volunteering research; asking for help as an act of mattering
49:00 — 53:00 | What the overwhelmed leader does: one thing, consistently
53:00 — 58:34 | Closing: Amri’s resources and where to find him

Stay Connected with Amri Johnson

If this conversation sparked something for you, Amri’s thinking goes much deeper than one hour could cover.

On Substack: Find him at Reconstructing Inclusion.

On LinkedIn: Amri Johnson

His book: Reconstructing Inclusion: Making DEI Accessible, Actionable, and Sustainable — worth your time if you want the full framework, not just the highlights.

His company: Inclusion Wins, at inclusionwins.com. He runs a course on building the mattering habit — practical, structured, something you can start immediately. If you’re a leader who wants specific tools, not just concepts, it’s a good place to start.

I met Amri on Substack. This was his first live. I will not forget it — and I hope you won’t either.

And if our conversation landed for you, consider sharing it with a friend or giving it a ❤️. That will help more people access these valuable insights.

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May you lead without limits,

“Mom, can you just stop?!”

I hear this about once every two days as I unskillfully parent my two teenagers.

What’s worse? Hearing it from my son is actually a win.

I see him so rarely, the few words he shares, no matter the meaning, feel like the first drops of rain on a dry, hot day.

Last month, instead of continuing to trial-and-error my way through these last years before they fly the nest, I finally decided to educate myself.

I belatedly followed a good friend’s recommendation and read Dr. Lisa Damour’s book “The Emotional Lives of Teenagers: Raising Connected, Capable, and Compassionate Adolescents.” It was eye-opening.

I realized the psychology of teenagers mimics much of what I experienced as an employee and leader of organizations undergoing fast-paced, significant change.

I’m not a psychologist or therapist, nor do I want to equate your teenage children with your employees, but I couldn’t help but see the similarities between the transformation of a teenager and what people experience in an organization undergoing change.

I wish I had known this earlier in my career.

How adults in a changing organization are similar to teenagers

Dr. Darmour describes the teenage years as a time of tremendous change. Hormones, body growth, and massive brain changes. They’re incredibly difficult to experience, and even harder to make sense of.

When my kids dismiss me or look as if their arms are not coordinated with their legs, I remind myself that it’s because of all that change. Their bodies are growing so fast, it’s not all in sync. It’s also their first time experiencing it; they don’t have a manual to follow and guide them through it.

It’s honestly very similar in organizations.

When an organization undergoes change, many of its people do, too. They are trying not only to make sense of the broader changes but also of what they mean for them individually.

In many ways, the employees are reconstructing their sense of identity in the workplace, not dissimilar to how a teenager grows into an adult, figuring out how to use their longer limbs and making sense of their new mental abilities. (Dr. Damour notes that by the end of adolescence, around age 24, an individual’s brain has been “overhauled and upgraded,” and is “faster, more powerful, and more efficient than before.")

Any leader who has guided an organization through change (restructuring functions and roles, implementing new systems and processes, or merging and divesting) knows the tremendous upheaval it causes for people — emotionally, cognitively, and practically in their day-to-day.

The “mom, please stop” process of separation-individuation is critical to adolescents developing their own sense of identity. People whose roles or daily activities are changing have to do the same. Unsurprisingly, even though they are already adults, the change can make them irritable and prone to behaviors that are hard to understand.

What I wish I had known earlier

The entire book is worth a read. Dr. Damour writes in a non-jargony, highly relatable fashion. Her stories bring every concept to life. I can’t do them justice, and I won’t regurgitate her work.

Instead, I’ll highlight the concepts that felt most immediately useful and compelling for me, and that I wish I had known as a leader.

Externalization: It’s not about you

I had never heard this term before, but the visual is very illuminating: it’s when a person comes by and literally “dumps” their burdens on you — their complaints, their worries, their frustrations, their sadness.

It’s hard to tell what they're doing when it’s happening. As an empath, I often get completely consumed by the other person’s emotions. It can be helpful at times, but too often, it’s a distraction that I’m not even aware of. And even if you’re not an empath, you can be completely derailed by what someone shares.

For teenagers, this is often a strategy to offload their struggles. By sharing them with you, they are freeing themselves of the weight.

The same can happen at work. Importantly, you need to be careful that you don’t take on the burden unless it’s actually something you should be responsible for handling. I’m not saying you abandon the “see something, say something” motto. Or you stop supporting your team when they need you.

You just need to be careful about being swept away by someone else’s emotions without first understanding why they are sharing with you.

Not every conversation is a cry for help

In the same vein as externalization, high-agency people too often jump right to problem-solving. I know because I’m one of them.

For teenagers, as they are finding their own agency, they don’t always want or need us to jump in. They are sharing to connect.

Adults in the workplace do this, too. Before you jump in to offer advice or direction, check in with the person to find out what type of support they are hoping for.

Sometimes, they just need a listening ear. As a leader, this can be a relief. You can sit back and simply be present to what they are sharing. In fact, the act of listening actively might be the greatest gift you can give an employee or colleague. We often talk about the desire to be seen and heard. This is that moment.

And if you’re a leader committed to your team’s development, it’s essential that you resist the urge to jump in and instead pause to assess the strategic next step. You will never develop the next generation of leaders if you don’t let them lead (and occasionally, stumble).

Your job is not to make your employees happy

Of all the concepts, this was the one I wish someone had told me years ago the most.

When I was a high school student, I was known for being relentless and overly demanding. One of my nicknames was “warden.” I won’t even name the others.

As I rose in my professional career, I overcorrected. I wanted to be the empathetic leader who prioritized people and their needs above all else. That was neither a sustainable target nor the right one.

I went from demanding work at all hours of the day, 7 days a week, to letting my team off the hook for missed outcomes and contorting myself and others unsustainably to accommodate team members who were not pulling their weight.

A leader needs to balance the needs of individuals with the needs of the organization. There’s no one-size-fits-all approach. It’s a constant recalibration. Anyone who tells you otherwise either hasn’t been a leader or is lying.

The challenge is gauging what your team needs. One of the markers I chose was happiness. I thought that if I could ensure employee happiness, I could retain top talent and accelerate business growth.

But the problem with happiness as a KPI is that you can’t control how someone will react. Happiness is driven by so many factors, many of which the company and the leader don’t control. Trying to hit it, I became distracted by every shift in employee temperament and lost focus on my strategic priorities for the business.

Dr. Damour’s guidance about teenagers was illuminating. Instead of assessing their emotional health through a lens of happiness and comfort, view it through the lens of whether they can self-regulate their emotions.

What that means is that if something highly disappointing happens, it’s actually a good sign that the adolescent feels upset and may even feel upset for some time. The key is whether their reaction feels in keeping with the scale of what happened and the impact it has on them.

Translated into the workplace, leaders would do well not to spend too much time overcompensating for decisions or situations that might leave employees feeling discouraged, irritated, or worse. Instead of trying to mitigate how they might feel, which you can’t control, it’s far more effective to focus on setting them up for success going forward.

For example, if you’ve made a difficult downsizing decision, it’s not helpful to dwell on the disappointment and fear your team might feel as a result. You can be empathetic in your tone, but nothing you do will change the impact of your decisions. Worrying about your team’s reaction, something I used to do, is usually time wasted. Instead, make sure you give them the information they need going forward: updated goals, helpful context, and any operational changes to their work.

People need to be able to express themselves productively

In contrast to overindexing on employee happiness, a far more productive goal is to create an environment where people feel their voices matter and that they have the skills to communicate effectively.

It parallels perfectly what Dr. Damour shares: one of the healthiest goals as a parent is to create an environment where your teens feel they can speak up and be heard.

Employees need this more than ever at work. And leaders need it too. The cost of silence is missed ideas, lowered trust, and increased stress.

You don’t want employees to bottle up their reactions or gossip about them. The key is to help your team understand how to communicate their thoughts effectively. This can be accomplished through establishing norms, training everyone on approaches that work, and then modeling these behaviors.

Importantly, you also need to give your team the room to miss the mark. When you combine teaching with practice (and the space to make mistakes), you’ve created a workplace where people become skilled at navigating difficult conversations, sharing their thoughts, and listening well.

Organizations that invest in these practices will be talent magnets, innovate with agility, and energize their people rather than drain them. It’s what I sought to create in every organization I led, and it’s the goal my clients aspire to today. And it’s possible if you take the time to understand what creates the conditions for a healthy, resilient team.

Your turn

Dr. Damour gave me so much more confidence in navigating this period with my kids. We only have a few more years together. I want to make them count, and I want them to leave with positive memories of how I showed up and not negative ones of how I fumbled our interactions.

Her guidance has become part of my playbook as I coach executives leading through tremendous workplace change. For that, I’m deeply grateful.

What's the concept you wish someone had handed you earlier — in leadership, or in life? I'd love to hear it in the comments.

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SAVE-THE-DATE

Substack LIVE: “Mattering” for the DEI-Allergic

April 27th, 3pm ET / 9pm CET

I’ll be joined by , a veteran DEI leader and expert. He’s the founder & Inclusion Strategist of Inclusion Wins and author of Reconstructing Inclusion on Substack. He’s an instructor, a keynoter, and an all-around incredible leader in the world of real DEI. Join us to learn more about what I mean.

🙏 Thank you for being a part of the Lead without Limits community.

If you found this post useful, I’d really appreciate it if you could give it a ❤️ or share it with another leader who you think could benefit.

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The more we create conversation around the hard topics in leadership, the greater the opportunity we all have to create stronger organizations and more leaders equipped to lead well.

May you lead without limits,