FEEDBACK ISN’T YOUR PROBLEM (But Your Relationship to Feedback Might Be)

By Leslie Rohonczy, IMC™, PCC

Executive Coach | Leadership Development Expert | Author | Speaker | ©2026 | www.leslierohonczy.com

(LISTEN TO NARRATED AUDIOARTICLE VERSION)

Most leaders believe they’re open to feedback… right up until the moment they hear something they don’t like. But it’s what happens next that reveals our relationship to it.

I remember sitting across from a senior leader who told me he was "very open to feedback". He wasn’t posturing; he meant it. He regularly asked for input, encouraged it, and even thanked people for it. Technically, he was doing all the right things, right up until that critical moment.

His peer offered him feedback about a client meeting they attended together. Within seconds of hearing her observations, he stepped in with all the context: a bit of background, a quick clarification, a touch of justification, a hint of over-explaining, even a suggestion that she had misread his intentions; then a gentle repositioning of what he meant versus what actually happened. It was a lot. He was articulate, calm, and had been completely effective at shutting the whole thing down. His peer didn't argue or push back, and the conversation just wrapped itself up. From his perspective, it was a good exchange. From hers, it wasn’t worth pushing any further - or doing in the future.

This is where the real issue lies: we each have our own special relationship to feedback, a unique pattern of reactions that show up in the first few seconds after we hear it. That relationship determines whether the conversation opens up or closes down. While we’re looking for clear, useful input, our team and colleagues are asking themselves how much of this is actually safe to say.

Amy Edmondson’s research at Harvard Business School has shown that when people sense even a small interpersonal risk, they adjust by softening their message, rounding off the edges, and removing the parts that might upset or land poorly. The feedback doesn’t disappear, but it loses its teeth, sometimes becoming so neutral and mushy that it's unrecognizable - and unusable as a result.

There’s another layer that shows up before feedback is even given: the way most leaders ask for feedback makes it harder to offer anything useful. “Is there anything I could do differently?” sounds generous, but it leaves the other person with too much space and not enough direction. The brain stalls. There’s nothing concrete to grab onto.

Now compare that to, “What’s one thing I could do differently in our next client meeting?” That question gives the other person somewhere to start. It’s specific, focused, and much easier to answer. This small shift can create a big difference.

Now layer that with what happens after the feedback lands, because this is where our relationship to feedback shows up in full colour. We rarely receive feedback as 'neutral data'. Most often, we see it as someone's interpretation of something they saw us say or do. It brushes up against our identity, competence, and reputation, and it pokes the part of us that wants to be seen as credible, valued, and in control. That means we're not just hearing the feedback; we're reacting to what we think it says about us as a person.

Our brains are wired to react fast. Research in social neuroscience by Matthew Lieberman at UCLA shows that perceived social threats, including criticism, can activate the same neural pathways as physical pain. Think about that: our brains interpret both as pain! So the urge to explain, clarify, or straighten the record isn’t a personality flaw; it's a hard-wired reflex. The issue shows up when we're not aware that the reflex has taken us over.

Our teams watch those micro-moments closely. They notice how long we stay with a hard comment, whether we get curious or defensive, and whether the conversation opens up or closes down. Over time, they adjust and bring us the version of feedback that keeps things moving, avoids friction, and sounds useful without creating risk.

And just like that, our access to deeper insights about ourselves narrows. Meetings still happen, conversations still feel productive, and we still believe we’re open to feedback. We just don’t realize how much of it never makes it to us.

Think about the last time someone offered you feedback. What did you do in the first few seconds after you heard it? Was there something that didn’t sit well? Was your instinct to move to resolve it? Did you stay open and curious with it? Did you explain? Did you have the urge to tidy the moment, or did you let it breathe? These are some common reactions to feedback in the moment. What's yours typically?

One leader I worked with ran a simple experiment. Every time he received feedback, he had to ask one more question about their observation. Not a deep dive series of questions that would feel like an interrogation, just one genuine question intended to help him understand what the other person was seeing. At first, it felt awkward and slower than his usual pace, and he worried it made him look unsure.

What actually happened was different. People started giving more details without being asked, offering examples, and staying in genuine conversation longer. The feedback became sharper and more useful because his stance in the moment had changed.

This is where stance matters. In feedback conversations, our job as the receiver is simple (but not easy): receive the feedback, thank the person for offering it, ask a clarifying question if something isn’t clear, and then reflect. Not defend; not explain; reflect. That reflection is where we close blind spots and gaps we can’t see on our own, and it’s the part most of us skip because it can be uncomfortable.

Nothing about the feedback itself had changed. His relationship to it had. We don’t need to agree with every piece of feedback we receive, and we don’t need to suppress our reactions. We do need to notice them and resist acting on them too quickly. Staying in the moment a little longer and asking a genuine question changes what becomes available to us. It also changes how people experience us, and that ultimately determines whether they will tell us what we need to hear.

YOUR COACHING CHALLENGE

Think about the last piece of feedback that stayed with you; the one that lingered, and felt genuinely uncomfortable. What happened in your head in the first few seconds?

Now imagine that moment again, but this time, you take on a deliberate stance as the receiver.

First, receive it fully. No interruption, no correction, no facial gymnastics. Just take it in without judgment or defense.

Second, acknowledge the person. Not just a quick “thanks,” but a genuine appreciation for both the perspective and the courage it took to offer it. Feedback, especially upward or sideways, feels risky. When we recognize that, we create the psychological safety for honesty in the future.

Third, get curious. Ask one question that helps you understand what they saw, heard, or experienced. Stay out of defending your intent and lean into understanding their reality. For example: “Can you say a bit more about what you noticed in that moment?” or “What impact did that have for you?”

Then, thank them for their feedback.

Lastly, and this is the part most people miss: reflect. Take time after the conversation to sit with it. Consider what might be true, even if it’s only partially true. Look for patterns, examples, and evidence of what others might be seeing that you’re not.

Reflect on these questions:

• What part of this feedback felt most uncomfortable, and why?

• What story did I start telling myself about what this means about me?

• What pieces might be valid here, even if I don’t fully agree?

• Where have I seen a version of this before?

• If I took this seriously, what would I experiment with doing differently?

After your reflection, take some time to close the loop. Let the person know what you took from the conversation and what you’re thinking about doing with their feedback. This builds trust and reinforces that their voice matters.

Try this once this week. Not perfectly, just deliberately. That’s where the shift starts.

If this surfaced a blind spot, or you want to deepen your relationship to feedback, reach out for a free exploratory Executive Coaching conversation at www.leslierohonczy.com.

YOU’VE MADE YOURSELF THE SYSTEM: The Ego Payoff of Control

By Leslie Rohonczy, IMC™, PCC

Executive Coach | Leadership Development Expert | Author | Speaker | ©2026 | www.leslierohonczy.com

(LISTEN TO THE NARRATED VERSION)

 Leaders, have you ever had that moment where you pause, look around, and realize, “It’s all on me”…? You’re involved in everything, every decision, every escalation, every aspect of the work from strategy to execution. You send late-night messages that start with “Hey, quick question...” You carry the weight, you solve the problems, and you keep the whole machine running.

But if you listen closely, underneath what can start to feel like a kind of performative martyrdom, you might notice a sense of pride in being the one who holds it all together; the one who’s central, necessary, irreplaceable.

We don’t typically acknowledge this uncomfortable fact; hell, we’re often not even aware that it’s what’s driving us. Others might look at us and think, “Wow, that’s commitment.” But from the inside, it’s something deeper. Think about it: if it’s truly all on you, then either the system is broken, or you’ve made yourself the system.

IT FEELS LIKE LEADERSHIP, BUT...

So many of the leaders I coach tell me they haven’t been able to get away for a real break. There’s always something too important, too fragile, or too dependent on them.

The one that really stays with me was a woman who hadn’t taken a proper vacation in nine years. Her team leaned on her constantly, she was the implicit leader of her peer group, and her actual leader repeatedly rewarded her for being “indispensable.”

Nine years without a real break. In one session, after walking through yet another week of being pulled into everything, I asked her: "What do you get out of being needed like this?" She paused for a long time before answering, then she said, “I know that I matter.” Oof! Right in the feels!

It took real courage to say it out loud, to see how something in her was driving her behaviour, and even her identity.

THE SECRET PAYOFF

When you've set up the system so that everything must run through you, you receive constant reinforcement as the one who people turn to, the one who knows what’s going on, and the one who can fix things when they break. That creates a powerful internal reward that goes far beyond external validation.

Behavioural psychology says that we repeat behaviours that are rewarded, especially when the reward is tied to how we see ourselves. The feeling of being relevant, necessary, and relied upon isn’t trivial. It anchors identity.

So when a leader says "I need to delegate more", but then doesn’t follow through, I don’t assume it's a skill gap. I get curious, and invite them to get curious along with me, about the payoff they haven’t named yet. More often than not, that payoff is about keeping them at the center of a system that needs them to function, and reinforcing the belief that they need to stay at the center to remain relevant. It’s as if they believe they won't matter if they’re not involved in every decision and every thread, which helps to explain why letting go feels risky and why control feels so important to them.

CONTROL DISGUISED AS COMMITMENT

Now that we're digging deep, here’s another layer that’s even harder to see: carrying everything is about control. If work runs through you, you can see it, shape it, and intervene before it goes sideways. That reduces uncertainty, which matters more than most of us are willing to admit.

And the pattern reinforces and amplifies itself over time. You stay involved to reduce risk, your team stays dependent because you’re involved, and you feel even more responsible because they depend on you. Eventually, this stops being a leadership approach and becomes a closed system in the exact shape of you, with everything designed to run through you.

THE EGO TRAP

There’s a sharper edge to this that’s worth naming. Believing that it’s all up to you can carry a subtle (sometimes not-so-subtle) form of ego-centricity. It’s not just that you believe it, it’s that you’ve positioned yourself as the center through which everything has to move. Maybe it wasn’t intentional, and it may not look like arrogance in the obvious sense, but there’s a deeply held belief that things won’t function without you at the center.

It sounds responsible and committed, but when leaders place themselves at the center of every outcome, and hold that belief, even unconsciously, it will crowd out the capability of others. There’s little room for different approaches or shared ownership. Over time, it sends a message to the team that says, “I’ve got this...,” which people eventually hear as, “...and that's because I think you don’t.” It's not your intention, of course, but that's the impact nonetheless.

One of the reasons this pattern is so hard to shift is because it’s tied to how leaders see their relevance, their role, their value, and their responsibility.

STAND DOWN, HERO

Many leaders built their careers on being the person who steps in and saves the day, because they see problems faster than others, connect the dots, and move things forward. That ability is often rewarded early and often. Then they get promoted, and the rules change.

At more senior levels, the role is no longer to be the hero. The role is to build a team that doesn’t need one. And that shift is far more difficult than it sounds, because it requires us to let things wobble, to watch others struggle, and to resist stepping in when we can clearly see the answer.

For a leader whose identity is built on being capable and reliable, that can feel like negligence rather than growth. So they keep stepping in, and over time, they find themselves carrying more than they can sustain.

HIDDEN COSTS

This pattern doesn’t just lead to burnout. When everything runs through you, your team stops thinking at the same level. It doesn't just feel like everything runs through you; it actually does. Decisions bottleneck, ownership becomes unclear, and frustration builds. You begin to feel like you’re carrying people, while they begin to feel that they aren’t trusted.

There’s also a structural limit that shows up over time. As your role becomes more complex, your capacity won’t scale if you stay the central hub for everything. You don’t just feel like a bottleneck, you become one, even though your intention is to support the system. Here's a marker for a high-performing leader: they can step away for a good stretch (say the length of a proper vacation), and the team still functions well and achieves their objectives. If performance drops because decisions stall or everything waits for you, you know the system is built around you. And at senior levels, that doesn’t just create strain, it caps your career trajectory, because leaders who can’t step out without things slowing down or collapsing are difficult to move up.

Some leaders don’t fully want to let go of this pattern because it serves something important: it reinforces identity, creates a sense of value, and offers a level of control that feels stabilizing.

If that pattern were to change, a different question would emerge: If you’re not the one holding everything together, then who are you as a leader?

SHIFTING THE ROLE

Leaders who move through this don’t suddenly disengage. They become more deliberate about where they show up and why. The work isn’t just to take things off their plate; it’s to redesign the system so it doesn’t rely on them in the same way.

And a powerful upside: when you step back in the right places, your people step forward. They make decisions, test ideas, and start to question “the way we do it here” instead of waiting for your answer or permission. That’s where capability actually grows, not in perfectly executed instructions, but in imperfect attempts they own. If everything continues to run through you, your team adapts by bringing problems, not proposals, and waiting to be told rather than thinking it through. When you shift your role, you change that pattern and create space for judgment and challenge, and for different ways of doing things to emerge.

They begin to ask themselves more precise questions like, "What truly requires my involvement?" "Where am I stepping in out of habit rather than necessity?" "What am I preventing my team from learning?"

They also develop something that doesn’t get talked about enough in leadership development: tolerance. Tolerance for ambiguity, for imperfect execution, and for outcomes that don’t match exactly how they would have done it. Tolerance (what some might call grace) is what allows leadership to scale beyond the limits of one person.

YOUR COACHING CHALLENGE

Take a clear look at your current load, not just what you’re carrying, but how it got there. Approach this as an intentional practice, not a quick reflection.

STEP 1: MAP YOUR CURRENT LOAD Write down the key decisions, problems, and responsibilities that regularly flow through you.

STEP 2: IDENTIFY THE PATTERN For each item, ask yourself: Where does this genuinely require my involvement? Where am I stepping in because it feels uncomfortable not to? What do I get, emotionally, from being the one who carries this?

STEP 3: NAME THE PAYOFF Be honest here. What does being needed give you? Relevance, control, certainty, recognition? If you don’t name it, you can’t shift it.

STEP 4: EXPERIMENT WITH PULLING BACK Choose one or two areas where you can intentionally step back by about ten percent. Be specific about what you will stop doing, delay, or redirect.

STEP 5: BUILD TOLERANCE As you step back, notice what shows up. Discomfort, anxiety, the urge to jump back in. Don’t fix it immediately. Stay with it. This is where the real work is.

STEP 6: OBSERVE THE SYSTEM Watch what happens when you’re not in the middle. Do others step forward? Do things wobble? Do new ideas emerge? This is data, not a verdict.

The goal of this practice isn’t perfection. It’s awareness and experimentation. What you notice here will tell you more about your leadership than any framework ever will.

And if you want to make some leadership shifts in a practical, grounded way, reach out for a free exploratory Executive Coaching conversation at www.leslierohonczy.com.

IS THIS YOUR 'TRAPEZE MOMENT'? Release the Death Grip On Your Current Bar

By Leslie Rohonczy, IMC™, PCC

Executive Coach | Leadership Development Expert | Author | Speaker | ©2026 | www.leslierohonczy.com

Most of us can picture the glamour and excitement of a trapeze act: the elegant swing, the release and heart-pounding flight through the air, the satisfying grab onto the new trapeze bar, followed by thundering applause. But hold the phone… what about that awkward, slightly terrifying bit in between? The part where the flyer has released their grip on the trapeze bar and, for what feels like forever, is suspended in open air with no connection to anything solid. It’s a hold-your-breath, hope-your-timing-is-good, please-let-this-work kind of moment.

It can feel safer to keep swinging on the same bar we already know. Real change shows up in that split second when we decide to let go and hurtle through the air toward something we can’t yet grab.

If we’ve ever found ourselves staring at our work and thinking, “I can’t keep doing this,” while also having no tidy answer for what comes next, we’re likely there. It doesn’t arrive with fireworks or a perfectly drafted resignation letter. It tends to show up in far less cinematic ways, more like a persistent signal that something no longer fits, like a favourite jacket that used to fit perfectly and now sits just a bit off, no matter how many times we try to adjust it.

WHEN EVERYTHING LOOKS FINE BUT ISN'T

I was coaching a leader recently who had built a strong and credible career over many years. If we were looking for someone who was steady, thoughtful, dependable, respected, capable, and a great people person, he’d be at the top of the list.

From the outside, everything looked… fine. Solid, even. No crisis to solve; no burning platform. No one tapping him on the shoulder saying, “You know what, now would be a great time to blow all this up and see what happens.”

Internally, though, the story was different. He knew, deep down in that ‘knowing place’ we all have, that he needed a change. But the problem was that he couldn’t clearly articulate what he wanted next. There was no neat plan or polished narrative about a bold new chapter. What he did have was a growing awareness that his current situation no longer fit him in the way it once had, and that awareness was only going to become more inconvenient and uncomfortable. So he stayed, gripping tightly to something that had stopped feeling right.

We tend to celebrate decisive moves, promotions, and bold pivots that look great in hindsight. We applaud the hero’s journey once the arc is clear and the ending makes sense. What we tend to skip over is the long, ambiguous stretch in between, when we know it’s time for something different but can’t yet name what that something is without sounding like we’re just making sh*t up as we go.

For many of us, when we find ourselves in that space, we do what we’ve always done well: we use our big brains to analyze and rationalize, believing that we can think our way out of our discomfort. We reflect, analyze, crunch the data, gather perspectives, read articles like this one, and generate insight after insight. It feels productive, and to be fair, it can be helpful as a starting point, but it isn’t a plan of action. Then we pause, often for reasons that sound responsible and strategic in the moment. We wait for a clearer signal, collect a bit more data, and tell ourselves timing matters. All of that can be true, and it also gives us a very comfortable place to remain when things feel uncertain.

Over time, a pattern starts to take shape. Insight leads to hesitation. Hesitation leads to retreat. Retreat leads back to reflection. Around and around we go, often with more sophisticated language each time and less actual movement.

INSIGHT IS CHEAP. EMBODIMENT IS EXPENSIVE

Insight is cheap. Acting on it is what costs us the most, in time, resources, energy, and focus. Think about it this way: we can generate insight by having a conversation, writing a journal entry, or taking a reflective moment to process. These insight-generation acts give us language, perspective, and the sense that we’re getting somewhere, and bonus, it doesn’t require us to change anything yet. What costs us is the moment we decide to act on what we already know to be true.

It might show up as saying the thing we’ve been rehearsing in our heads for months, stepping away from a role we’ve outgrown, or loosening our grip on an identity that no longer fits. These are familiar comforts, and they keep our hands firmly wrapped around the current trapeze bar. And this is where we tend to stall, not because we don’t understand what’s happening, but because acting on that understanding has consequences.

THE MYTH OF READINESS

There’s a psychological layer worth naming. Research in behavioural economics, including the work of Daniel Kahneman, shows that we experience potential losses more strongly than equivalent gains. Leaving a familiar role or identity can feel like a real loss, even though it doesn't fit anymore, and even when we can see the possibility of a new trapeze bar dangling up ahead. From that perspective, staying can feel entirely reasonable. It will also keep us exactly where we are.

Then readiness enters the picture. We assume that at some point in the future, we’ll feel clear, certain, and fully prepared to make a big move. In practice, that feeling rarely shows up in advance. More often, we move first, and then tell ourselves, “I guess I was ready after all.” At the time, it feels more like uncertainty, discomfort, and a slightly unsettling level of exposure, paired with a decision to move anyway.

Which brings us back to the trapeze metaphor, and to a line from a song I wrote called Trapeze, inspired by this exact moment:

Reaching out into the mist you close your eyes

That’s when you discover you can fly

 That’s the reality of it. We don’t reach the next bar by stretching harder while holding on to our current one. The transition becomes possible when we release our grip, even though the next bar isn’t yet in our hands.

THE COST OF STAYING

First, let's look at what we are holding onto. Maybe it's a role that we’ve mastered, a reputation we’ve earned, or an identity that’s been reinforced over years. All that effort, discipline, and contribution we put in over time is precisely what can take up the exact space we'll need to reach for something new. The longer we hold the old bar, the harder it becomes to loosen our grip and engage with what comes next; not because the opportunity disappears, but because our hands are already full.

When clarity is missing, we often try to create it before we move, as if the perfect plan will make everything obvious. In moments like this, honesty tends to be more useful. Honesty about what no longer fits, even if we can’t yet name what would fit better. Honesty about what we’re tolerating, and why. Honesty about what we’re concerned about losing if we let go. Honesty about that whisper of yearning for something different for ourselves.

YOUR COACHING CHALLENGE

Find a quiet place where you won't be disturbed for about 20 minutes. Take a few deep breaths, allow yourself to relax, and fully arrive to this practice.

Listen to the recording of Trapeze here: https://youtu.be/6q_4Tj4nbqg (you can follow along with the lyrics below the video.)

Now consider your own career and what might be calling you toward a new bar. Answer the following questions in your journal:

• Where are you feeling that pull of something that’s asking more of you right now, even if it’s not fully formed?

• What has started to feel too small, too tight, or simply no longer yours?

• When you imagine letting go, what part of that feels energizing, and what part of that feels uncertain or exposed?

• What are you holding onto that still works, and what does it give you that makes it hard to release?

• And what could you loosen your grip on (not necessarily a total release), that could help you take a first step in that direction?

If you're experiencing this in-between moment, or are hurtling through that untethered space between bars, this is exactly the kind of transition I can help you navigate in executive coaching. If you'd like to build your capacity to leap while things are still unfolding, reach out for a free exploratory Executive Coaching conversation at www.leslierohonczy.com.

WHAT’S DRIVING YOUR STRIVING? The High Cost of Relentless Achievement

(LISTEN TO THE NARRATED AUDIOARTICLE VERSION)

The first few years of my adult life were the striving years. I worked hard... very hard. I chased credentials, opportunities, accomplishments, experiences, titles, recognition. If there was a ladder nearby, I was halfway up it. If there wasn’t, I would build one.

From the outside, it looked like I was productive, ambitious, and disciplined; the kind of person that people describe as 'driven,' and in some ways, that was accurate. I had energy, curiosity, and a willingness to work hard.

Inside, though, something else was going on. Beneath the ambition was a voice that I hadn’t yet learned to question. It carried a simple message that kept showing up in my thinking: 'you’re not enough'. That belief became the fuel behind my striving behaviour, even though I didn’t recognize it at the time.

Striving became the strategy I used to soothe the 'not good enough' feelings. Adding another achievement felt like a solution. Another milestone appeared, then another goal reached, and surely the next one would finally be the moment when I felt capable, complete, and secure. But that imagined moment of relief never quite materialized, and the finish line just seemed to push further away every time I got close to it.

Some high performers recognize this pattern once they slow down long enough to examine it, because what appears to be ambition on the surface is often something quite different underneath.

THE STRIVING TRAP

There's no doubt that ambition can be healthy. It can push us to learn, create, contribute, and improve. It’s often fueled by curiosity and purpose, and it can produce remarkable outcomes when it’s aligned with meaning.

Striving, however, is often fueled by something else entirely: fear. It could be fear of failure, fear of being exposed, and fear of not measuring up to some invisible standard that lives inside our heads. And sometimes the driver runs even deeper: a belief formed long ago that our worth can only be earned through achievement. I had an executive coaching client who uncovered the limiting belief that if she wasn't working herself to the point of exhaustion, she didn't deserve to relax or be joyful. What she eventually realized was that her exhaustion wasn’t the problem; it was the proof that, as long as she was depleted, she had earned the right to feel okay about herself. The exhaustion wasn’t just about the work anymore; it had become the evidence of her worth.

Researcher Brené Brown has written extensively about the relationship between shame, worthiness, and perfectionism. She describes perfectionism not as a healthy pursuit of excellence, but as a strategy people use to avoid criticism and judgment. In that sense, perfectionism isn’t really about doing great work. It’s about protecting ourselves from feeling inadequate. And that's an incredibly important distinction.

THE INVISIBLE DRIVERS OF RELENTLESS ACHIEVEMENT

Over the years, I’ve coached hundreds of leaders, many operating at the highest levels of their organizations. From the outside, these leaders often appear confident, accomplished, and highly capable. Their colleagues admire them, their teams rely on them, and their organizations reward them.

Once the coaching conversation begins, however, the internal story often begins to emerge, and a more complicated picture comes into view. Some leaders grew up in families where achievement was the price of approval. Others learned early that praise appeared mainly when they performed well. Some internalized the message that being valuable meant being exceptional. These experiences don’t disappear when someone becomes an executive. They simply follow them into the boardroom.

Those early lessons become powerful internal engines. Add perfectionism into the mix, and you get a drive that rarely switches off. The leader becomes productive, respected, and admired. At the same time, the internal experience can feel like a treadmill that keeps accelerating.

I came across some interesting research about the distinction between work engagement and workaholism (Wilmar Schaufeli & Arnold Bakker, 2008; Clark, Michel, Zhdanova, Pui, & Baltes, 2016), which shows that when people are driven by internal pressure rather than genuine engagement with their work, the long-term results are often less positive than expected. Studies examining compulsive work patterns have linked them to emotional exhaustion, stress, and reduced well-being, even among highly successful professionals.

In other words, relentless achievement carries a hidden cost that leaders only begin to see once they pause long enough to examine the forces driving their striving behaviour.

WHEN SUCCESS DOESN’T FEEL LIKE SUCCESS

One of the most revealing moments in coaching often happens after a major success; perhaps a promotion, a major project delivered, or a milestone that took years to reach.

We would expect to feel a level of achievement or celebration. What some leaders feel instead is relief. That reaction can feel surprising, yet what happens in that moment is that the internal critic finally goes silent. We proved something. We cleared the bar that had been looming over us. Then, before long, the voice returns and introduces the next challenge, asking the inevitable question that follows on the heels of every achievement: what comes next?

This is one of the clearest signs that striving is being driven by insecurity. The finish line keeps moving. Not because we lack discipline or ambition, but because the real goal was never the achievement itself. The real goal was feeling worthy, and no external accomplishment can permanently answer that question.

AMBITION WITH AWARENESS

Many remarkable things in the world have been built by ambitious people. Innovation, progress, and creativity often come from individuals who are willing to pursue bold ideas and difficult goals. The important distinction lies in the motivation behind the drive, because the source of that motivation determines whether ambition expands possibility or ultimately traps a leader on a moving treadmill of achievement.

Ambition says that we want to build something meaningful or explore what’s possible. Striving, driven by insecurity, says that we need to prove something about ourselves so that we can feel acceptable. Ambition expands possibility. Striving often narrows it.

When we begin examining our internal drivers, something interesting happens. We don’t lose our drive. In some cases, the opposite happens, and the drive becomes more powerful because it’s no longer fueled by pressure or fear. Instead, it starts drawing energy from curiosity, contribution, and purpose. The engine remains strong, but the fuel source changes.

YOUR COACHING CHALLENGE

Today's challenge requires about 20 minutes of reflection, so grab your journal and favorite pen, and find a quiet place where you can relax into this practice. Take a moment to reflect on your own striving tendencies, and allow yourself to be genuinely curious about what might be driving it.

Step 1: Identify a current goal. Choose something you're actively pursuing right now. Perhaps it's a promotion, a project, a business milestone, or a personal achievement that really matters to you.

Step 2: Examine the emotional energy behind that goal. Ask yourself what is truly motivating it. Notice whether the energy feels expansive, such as curiosity, purpose, contribution, or the excitement of building something meaningful.

Step 3: Look for a second layer of motivation beneath this. Ask yourself whether any part of the drive is connected to proving something about your worth, gaining approval, avoiding criticism, or quieting an internal voice that says you are not yet enough.

Step 4: Step back, review, and discover themes. Many leaders notice that their motivation contains more than one driver, and simply seeing those drivers clearly is often the beginning of greater freedom and choice.

Step 5: Use your new awareness to guide your choices. What adjustments might bring your striving back into alignment with the future you want to create? If the goal is fueled mostly by purpose and curiosity, then pursue it with renewed energy. But if you notice that insecurity or the need for approval is doing most of the driving, how could you approach the goal differently? What healthier boundaries do you need? How would you redefine success? What is the deeper reason this goal matters so much to you?

Ambition and insecurity often travel together, and recognizing that mixture is part of becoming a more conscious leader. There is no judgment required in that realization. Human beings are complex, and the forces that shape our drive rarely come from a single source.

What matters is awareness. When we understand the true engine behind our striving, we gain the freedom to decide whether that driver is still serving the future we want to create, or whether it is simply repeating an old story about our worth. 

That moment of clarity is often where the real shift begins. Striving doesn't disappear, but it becomes more intentional, more grounded, and more aligned with the life and leadership we actually want to build.

Reach out for a free exploratory Executive Coaching conversation at www.leslierohonczy.com.

'ME-FIRST' CULTURE AT WORK: The Demise of ‘WE’ in the Age of ‘ME’

(LISTEN TO THE NARRATED AUDIOARTICLE VERSION)

Last year, I sat in on a senior leadership meeting that felt less like a strategy session and more like an orchestra rehearsal gone wrong. It felt chaotic! Everyone was playing their hearts out, and no one was listening. Each leader came armed with their slides, metrics, updates, entrenched points of view, and well-rehearsed arguments. Every function was defending its priorities. Everyone was articulate, intelligent, passionate, and striving to be 'seen'. There was no shared tempo; no collective score, and no one stepping back to ask, “What is best for the collective? What does the whole need?”

I have been noticing this pattern for years, in coaching sessions, in corporate events, and across media feeds: a steady tilt toward self-protection and self-promotion over shared purpose. Call it ambition if you like, but it feels like something deeper to me. The rise of a “me-first” workplace has been building for a long time.

HOW DID WE GET HERE?

Over the past three decades, Western societies have undergone a measurable shift toward hyper-individualism. Sociologist Robert Putnam wrote about the decline in civic participation and social capital in his book, Bowling Alone, showing how community involvement, from clubs to volunteerism, steadily decreased across North America. The patterns he identified in the 1990s have only intensified.

Journalist Sebastian Junger explored a related theme in his book Tribe: On Homecoming and Belonging, which is one of my favourite books about how we are stronger together. Drawing on history, anthropology, and his reporting on war veterans, Junger points out that humans are wired for tight-knit interdependence, and that modern Western society has weakened many of the shared hardships and collective bonds that once gave people a sense of meaning. When belonging erodes, people don't simply become more independent; they often become more anxious, more isolated, and more likely to build their identity around status rather than contribution. That observation has profound implications for workplace culture.

Technology is also reshaping how we construct identity. Sherry Turkle’s work at MIT points to how digital platforms nudge us to 'perform ourselves' rather than fully engage with others authentically. Algorithms reward visibility and amplification. Attention, likes and follows become currency, and we learn to chase it.

Add to this the rise of monetized identity, influencer culture, and personal brand as career insurance in unstable labour markets. LinkedIn profiles become highlight reels, Instagram turns daily life into curated narratives, and the gig economy encourages workers to market themselves continuously. In many Western democracies, competitive market thinking has gradually pushed the language of individual rights to the forefront, with no room for conversations about shared responsibility.

Layer in performance-at-all-costs organizational environments, where individual metrics, dashboards, and promotion systems reward personal achievement far more visibly than collective contribution.

None of these forces are malicious. They evolved gradually, and responded to real economic and technological shifts. But together, they've shifted our centre of gravity. As a culture, we've elevated individual identity above shared responsibility and obligation. We've optimized for recognition over reciprocity, and it's showing up at work.

WHERE THE DRIFT BECOMES VISIBLE

We see this slide into soloist mode appears inside organizations, in leaders who protect their function instead of tending to the enterprise as a whole. Or when personal brand building starts to consume more energy than team building. “Not my job” thinking creeps into conversations. We celebrate the hero who stayed late to save the day, but overlook the disciplined and collective coordination that would have prevented the crisis in the first place. Performance conversations begin to feel like personal threats rather than shared calibration. Visibility edges out contribution, and underneath much of it sits our old pal, anxiety.

Research on social comparison theory by psychologist Leon Festinger, and later extended in contemporary social media studies, shows that constant exposure to curated success increases comparison behaviour. And comparison fuels insecurity, which narrows the focus toward self-protection. When leaders feel perpetually evaluated, they protect reputation. When employees feel constantly compared, they guard status. When attention narrows to self-preservation, collective awareness declines.

Belonging research consistently shows that strong social connection predicts wellbeing and performance. When connection weakens, anxiety increases. And when anxiety increases, collaboration suffers. It becomes a reinforcing loop. More comparison, more self-focus, less collective trust, and more anxiety.

We are social pack animals, and evolutionary psychology is clear on this point. Human survival historically depended on cooperation, shared labour, and mutual protection. “Every person for themselves” has never been a sustainable survival strategy. And yet culturally, here we are.

WHY THIS MATTERS FOR ORGANIZATIONAL PERFORMANCE

If you look at Edelman’s annual Trust Barometer, you’ll see just how shaky institutional trust has become across Western democracies, including here in Canada. Trust is not abstract; it's a performance variable. When trust declines, decision-making slows, innovation drops, and defensive behaviours increase.

McKinsey has done some interesting research using their Organizational Health Index which shows that companies scoring highest on shared direction and collective accountability are significantly more likely to outperform their peers financially.

When leaders optimize for personal recognition over shared outcomes, there are always telltale signs. See if any of these sound familiar: silo protection increases, succession planning weakens, cross-functional friction grows, innovation slows as risk becomes reputational, and burnout rises as individuals feel they must constantly prove their value.

Think back to that leadership meeting that felt like a rehearsal gone wrong. A real orchestra is disciplined, coordinated in their desire to create something collectively, and anchored in a shared purpose. Musicians spend years learning not just how to play, but how to listen. They watch the conductor. They track subtle shifts in dynamics, and soften when another section carries the melody. They know when their role is to lead and when their role is to support. And everyone is playing from the same score.

When that discipline disappears, and each musician pushes for the spotlight, the result is chaotic noise. Volume replaces harmony, timing fractures, and the piece loses its shape. In organizations, the same thing happens in the absence of shared intent and collective restraint. Having a team of strong soloists doesn't create better performance; it creates distortion.

THE CULTURAL WAKE-UP CALL

This 'me-first' culture we're witnessing reflects a broader cultural current that's been building for years. As leaders, we decide which behaviours get reinforced, so if we reward individual heroics over collective stewardship, we accelerate the drift. Corporate incentives tied to individual performance often create counterproductive behaviours, damage relationships and create burnout in their wake. Why would we want to reward the amplification of personal brand more than enterprise contribution?

When we prioritize what is individually visible over what advances a shared objective, we make our values unmistakable: in effect, our metrics and incentives teach people that personal exposure matters more than collective impact. Left unchecked, that lesson becomes the culture.

This reaches far beyond workplace harmony. Organizations that can't coordinate beyond individual ambition struggle and even collapse when conditions tighten. And most leaders I work with can feel that tightening in their bones. The margin for error is thinner, decisions travel faster, and reputational consequences land harder. You can feel it in your calendar, in your inbox, in the pace of change your teams are absorbing. This moment in time demands that we think beyond ourselves and act for the good of the whole.

Prioritizing the collective good is key to institutional resilience, and yet, much of our development energy still tilts toward individual visibility and positioning. Far less attention goes to teaching leaders how to share power, hold tension, or step back so the whole can move forward.

A corporate culture that prizes the soloist over the symphony eventually forgets how to play together. And as complexity accelerates around us, losing that collective capacity carries real consequences for trust and performance. A room full of screeching soloists creates one hell of a cacophonous noise. But beautiful music happens when every player focuses on contributing to the collective whole.

YOUR COACHING CHALLENGE: 30-MINUTE LEADERSHIP DISCUSSION GUIDE

Share this article with your peers and leader, and put it on the agenda for your next weekly meeting. Use the handy discussion guide below to have a conversation about how this shows up in your organization, and how you might address some of the challenges that come along with it.

Facilitation Guidance
• Allocate 30 minutes for the discussion, and frame it as a curious, blame-free exploration of the topic
• Encourage candour without defensiveness
• Capture patterns and themes, not names

PART 1: OBSERVATION

1. Where do we see “me-first” behaviour inside our own organization?

2. What behaviours are we currently rewarding that may unintentionally reinforce individual over collective thinking?

3. Where do we see personal brand overtaking enterprise stewardship?

PART 2: IMPACT
4. How is this affecting cross-functional trust?
5. Where has anxiety or reputational fear limited collaboration?
6. What is the cost to performance when we protect our own metrics rather than the shared outcome?

PART 3: SELF-EXAMINATION
7. In what ways might I personally be reinforcing individual recognition over shared responsibility?
8. What would it look like for our team to operate more like an orchestra and less like competing soloists?

If you see any of the following behaviours, gently guide participants back to the discussion objectives:

• Leaders defending territory more than strategy

• Reluctance to share credit

• Hesitation to challenge peers for fear of optics

• Metrics optimized locally but not globally

• High visibility, low cohesion

Close the discussion by asking: What is one behaviour we will experiment with and consciously shift over the next quarter, to strengthen the “we”?

If you or your leadership team want help in facilitating these important cultural conversations in your organization, reach out for a free exploratory conversation at www.leslierohonczy.com.

HAS YOUR EXPERIENCE BECOME A LIABILITY? When What You Know Gets in Your Way

(LISTEN TO THE NARRATED AUDIOARTICLE VERSION)

The first time he said it, she smiled politely.
He tried again. The second time, she nodded along, already formulating her response.
His third repetition had a certain ‘edge’ in his voice.
And by the fourth, the room became very still.

I was observing a senior vice president in action. Sitting across from her direct report in a one-on-one meeting, she seemed certain about where he was headed in the conversation. After all, she’d seen this situation many times in her career, and could anticipate his concerns, the angle, the familiar hesitation. Her attention wasn’t careless. It was efficient.

Except for one pesky little fact: that wasn’t what he was saying. Not even close! What she thought she knew for sure had already shaped what she unconsciously expected to hear. When his actual position finally registered for her after four attempts, it stopped the conversation cold. She wasn’t defensive or dismissive, just visibly disoriented. It wasn’t even that she disagreed. Her certainty had filtered out important data before it had a chance to even register.

Moments like this are easy to miss in real time. Nothing dramatic happened, and no voices were raised, but something important was revealed. Her experience had shifted from being an asset to creating interference, not because she lacked skill, but because her past success had closed the loop too early. 

EXPERIENCE ISN’T THE PROBLEM. FINALITY IS

We tend to speak about experience as though it automatically produces wisdom. The more years, the sharper the judgment. The longer the track record, the better the instincts.

Often, that’s true. Experience does build pattern recognition. It helps leaders move faster with less information. It allows for decisive action in situations that would overwhelm less experienced colleagues.

The trouble begins when experience becomes a filter, narrowing what leaders bother to question and what they no longer think to ask. When leaders rely too heavily on what they’ve seen before, perception can narrow rather than deepen. New information gets unconsciously screened. Signals that don’t fit the familiar narrative are discounted, not deliberately, but as a form of cognitive efficiency.

Efficiency often feels like competence, which is why it so rarely triggers self-doubt. Meetings end on time. Decisions move forward. Issues appear resolved. Leaders get recognized and reinforced for speed and clarity, not for pausing to explore what might be missing. That’s what makes the cost so hard to spot. By the time misalignment surfaces, it often shows up downstream, in disengagement, rework, or conversations that feel harder than they should.

WISDOM VERSUS CERTAINTY

One of the most important distinctions in leadership is the difference between wisdom and certainty. Wisdom holds experience lightly while it stays alert to context. It assumes there is always more to learn, especially when the situation looks and feels familiar.

Certainty closes the loop early. It sounds confident, calm, and decisive. Teams often experience it as reassuring, and leaders experience it as mastery. But certainty also has a blind spot: it resists disruption.

When the environment changes faster than our past experience can track, certainty starts to interfere with judgment. We begin mistaking confidence for accuracy, not because we’re careless, but because our internal models haven’t been updated to match the current level of change or complexity.

WHEN PATTERN RECOGNITION HARDENS

As humans, we're wired for pattern recognition from the beginning. Recognizing patterns is a powerful leadership capability that helps us to see around corners, anticipate risks, and connect dots others haven’t yet noticed. Over time, though, pattern recognition can harden into pattern entrenchment.

When that happens, we stop asking, “What’s unique or different in this case?” and start assuming we already know the answer. Curiosity gets replaced by speed. Listening moves away from trying to understand what might be different this time to listening for evidence that confirms what we already know or believe.

This pattern often shows up in leaders who have been rewarded for their judgment. Each success reinforces the belief that their reading of situations is reliable. Over time, that reliability can turn into reflex. And reflex is not the same as responsiveness.

THE COST OF OUTDATED INTERNAL MODELS

Many of us learned to lead in less chaotic or ambiguous environments than the ones we now operate in. Decision cycles were slower; hierarchies were clearer; dissent travelled differently.

But leaders are navigating something different in today’s world: more voices, greater tension, cultural challenges and polarization, and an increasing number of competing truths, all layered on top of already complex technical decisions.

When leaders don’t update their internal models, they often feel blindsided by outcomes that no longer line up with their intent. Trust begins to wobble, engagement dips, and feedback becomes harder to interpret, leaving the leader with a nagging sense that something is off, even if they can’t quite name it.

What’s often off in these moments is not capability, but curiosity and adaptability.

LEARNING AGILITY, CURIOSITY, AND TRUST

Learning agility is about staying open to questioning your own assumptions, especially when they’ve served you well. It’s the willingness to let curiosity interrupt certainty. And it’s the discipline of staying interested in what’s actually happening in this specific situation, not just what usually happens.

Research from the Center for Creative Leadership has consistently highlighted learning agility as a differentiator in leadership effectiveness, particularly in complex, changing environments. Leaders who stay curious, reflective, and willing to recalibrate are more likely to sustain trust and performance over time.

Curiosity does something else that certainty can’t: it also builds trust. When leaders stay genuinely curious, they signal respect. They create space for difference, making it safer for people to offer information that doesn’t fit the popular opinion. Over time, that shapes culture far more than decisiveness alone ever could.

WHAT THIS LOOKS LIKE IN PRACTICE

When practicing curiosity, notice how quickly you form an opinion. Make a conscious choice to slow that moment down, and ask questions you don’t already have answers for (that's how you know you've asked a genuinely curious question). Check in on your intention: are you listening to learn, or listening to confirm?

In practice, it can also mean inviting your team into the process, not by asking for validation, but by creating space for challenge. Leaders who do this well tend to make better decisions, earn deeper trust, and adapt more effectively as complexity increases.

If you’ve been successful for a long time, think of this as not as a warning, but as a mirror. Experience doesn’t stop being valuable, but it does need to stay alive. The leaders who continue to grow are not the ones who abandon what’s worked, but the ones who remain curious about when it might need updating. Past success is only a liability when it goes unexamined.

YOUR COACHING CHALLENGE

1. 1.      NAME THE MOMENT: Choose one real, upcoming decision, conversation, or recurring issue where you typically rely on instinct and past experience, or a situation where you usually move quickly because it feels familiar. This might be a team discussion, a performance issue, a strategic decision, or a pattern you think you already understand.

PAUSE THE INTERNAL LOOP: Before responding, pause long enough to surface your assumptions. Ask yourself:

• What am I assuming I already know about this situation?

• What story am I telling myself about how this usually goes?

• What real evidence do I have for my assessment?

• What might I be overlooking because it feels familiar?

PRACTISE CURIOSITY OUT LOUD: In the conversation, ask a question that genuinely invites new information. For example:

• What might I be missing here?

• What’s different about this situation than it appears at first glance?

• If we didn’t have to worry about ‘x’, what would we be doing differently?

• If we slowed this down, what else should we be paying attention to?

OBSERVE THE SHIFT: Pay attention to what happens next. Notice not just the content of what you hear, but how the room responds. Does the conversation open up? Do people offer information they hadn’t shared before? Does the energy change when certainty gives way to curiosity?

REFLECT AFTERWARD: After the interaction, take a few minutes to reflect:

• What new information emerged once I slowed down?

• Where did my initial assumptions hold, and where didn’t they?

• What did I notice about my own listening when I chose curiosity over speed?

• What do I know now that I didn’t know before?

This is not about abandoning experience. It’s about keeping it alive by letting it inform your judgment without prematurely closing the loop.

If this article resonates with you, and you're interested in how Executive Coaching can help you, reach out for a free exploratory conversation with me at www.leslierohonczy.com.

AM I COACHABLE? A 5-Step Self-Assessment For Leaders Considering Executive Coaching

LISTEN TO THE NARRATED AUDIOARTICLE VERSION

Are you coachable? How do you actually know?

Have you received feedback about something you know you should work on, but you’re not fully convinced you’ll be able to shift it? Are you curious about executive coaching, but unsure whether you have what it takes to do the work well? Does having coaching support sound appealing, but you’re not sure this is even the right time to take the leap with a qualified coach?

Here’s what may already feel familiar to you. You’re not lacking in capability or motivation, but there’s likely something you can’t yet see clearly: a blind spot, a limiting belief, or a habitual response that’s shaping your behaviour. You’re thoughtful, competent, and you’ve likely spent a great deal of time analysing your situation, and still, something feels stuck.

You may have replayed the feedback conversation, talked it through with trusted people, read the latest trending books, attended the workshops, or listened to the podcasts. On paper, you may even know what you should do next. Yet when the moment arrives, the behaviour doesn’t quite shift, the decision doesn’t land, or the same pattern shows up again. Sometimes awareness is enough to be able to change a behaviour. But when insight doesn’t translate into different choices or behaviours, and you’re not sure how to work with that gap or blind spot, that’s where coaching can make a meaningful difference. 

If any of this sounds familiar, you’re in good company. Many people wrestle with the vulnerability it takes to seek this kind of support. When curiosity about coaching appears, it’s typically because you want greater awareness and traction. The question becomes: are you ready?

Over the years, I’ve worked with hundreds of leaders across sectors, levels, and personalities, and one thing has become very clear: executive coaching can be powerful, practical, and genuinely transformative. It can also be frustrating, circular, and expensive when the timing or focus is off. That difference often gets described as coachability, but it’s worth pausing here to name a distinction that will shape how you read the rest of this article.

This article’s designed to help you assess that for yourself with honesty and without judgement, while also helping you separate two things that are often blurred together: coachability and readiness. It isn’t meant to convince you to hire me or to position executive coaching as a cure-all. Its purpose is to help you decide whether this is the right conversation for you, right now.

WHAT COACHABILITY IS AND WHAT IT IS NOT

Before diving in, one important clarification. Coachability and readiness are related, but they’re not the same thing.

Coachability speaks to how you typically relate to feedback, uncertainty, and personal change. Readiness speaks to timing, context, and capacity, including what else is happening in your life and in the system around you.

You can be deeply coachable and still not ready. You can also feel ready for support, but struggle with some of the habits that make coaching effective. This assessment’s designed to help you notice both.

Coachability isn’t about being agreeable, positive, or easy to work with. Some of my most coachable clients are sceptical, analytical, and openly challenging, while some of the least coachable are polite, enthusiastic, and highly articulate about why nothing can really change.

Coachability also isn’t about having a clear goal perfectly defined right out of the gate. Many people start coaching with a vague sense of discomfort rather than a neat objective, and that isn’t a problem. In fact, it’s often a strong starting point for the coach and client to begin exploring and then crystallising the coaching topic.

Coachability’s about how you relate to yourself, your patterns, personality wiring, and defence mechanisms, and the possibility that your current way of operating, however successful it’s been in the past, may now be limiting you.

The most reliable way to assess coachability isn’t through labels or personality types, but through how you respond to a small set of very specific questions.

A SELF-ASSESSMENT YOU CAN ACTUALLY USE

Read the prompts below slowly and resist the urge to “perform insight,” meaning the temptation to sound self-aware rather than notice what’s actually happening for you in real time. Pay attention to your internal reactions as much as your answers, because irritation, resistance, relief, and curiosity are all useful data.

To make this more practical, I invite you to use a simple rating scale alongside each question. This isn’t a scorecard, and it isn’t a pass or fail test. It’s a way to notice patterns in how you typically respond.

After each question, rate yourself on a scale from 1 to 5 based on which description fits you most often.

1 = I’m protective or defensive by nature, even if I understand the feedback or situation intellectually

2 = I can occasionally stay open at first, but I close down when things start to feel uncomfortable

3 = I can sometimes stay open and reflective, but when the pressure builds, I revert to familiar patterns

4 = I can usually stay open and reflective, even when challenged, though certain situations still test me

5 = I can almost always stay curious, grounded, and willing to learn, even when the feedback or situation feels uncomfortable

There are no good or bad numbers here. The purpose is to notice where openness comes easily for you, and where it reliably gets harder.

1. HOW DO YOU RELATE TO FEEDBACK THAT DOES NOT MATCH YOUR SELF-IMAGE?

Think about the last piece of feedback that genuinely caught you off guard, not the kind you expected and not the kind you politely dismissed. What happened internally? Did you feel curious, even briefly, about what the feedback might be pointing to, or did your energy go immediately into explaining context, questioning the feedback giver’s intent, or coming up with reasons why the feedback was technically inaccurate?

Your self-assessment score: _____

Coachability doesn’t require you to agree with feedback, but it does require a willingness to stay present long enough to learn something from it. When feedback reliably triggers defensiveness, justification, or a strong need to be seen as right, coaching often feels uncomfortable very quickly. That doesn’t signal failure; it signals that the work will require a level of self-honesty you may or may not be ready to engage.

2. ARE YOU MORE INTERESTED IN EXPLAINING YOUR PATTERNS OR EXPLORING THEM?

Many leaders are excellent narrators of their own behaviour. They can explain why they react the way they do, how their background shaped them, and what pressures they’re under. This level of insight is valuable, and it’s also where progress often stalls.

Your self-assessment score: _____

Coachability shows up when someone’s willing to move beyond explanation into experimentation. Instead of staying with the question of why they’re like this, they become willing to ask what happens if they try something different.

When analysis consistently replaces action, coaching can feel repetitive. When experimentation’s allowed, even imperfectly, coaching tends to gain momentum.

3. HOW DO YOU HANDLE NOT KNOWING?

Executive roles reward decisiveness, expertise, and confidence, while coaching asks for something slightly different. It asks you to sit, at least temporarily, in uncertainty.

Your self-assessment score: _____

The question isn’t whether you enjoy not knowing, but whether you can tolerate it long enough to observe yourself in action. Leaders who are highly coachable aren’t less intelligent or decisive; they’re simply willing to slow their thinking long enough to notice what emerges.

When not knowing feels intolerable, or when ambiguity immediately reads as incompetence, coaching may feel destabilising rather than supportive.

4. DO YOU SEE YOURSELF AS PART OF THE PATTERN, EVEN WHEN OTHERS ARE INVOLVED?

Most leadership challenges involve other people, whether a peer, a boss, a team, or a system that genuinely makes things harder. Coachability doesn’t mean taking responsibility for everything, but it does involve examining how you’re participating in the pattern, even when others are clearly contributing.

Your self-assessment score: _____

It’s also important to name something explicitly here. Even highly coachable leaders can struggle to make progress if the system around them is misaligned. Organisational culture, role clarity, sponsorship, workload, and political dynamics all matter.

Coaching works best when there’s enough room in the system for reflection, experimentation, and learning. If your environment consistently punishes candour, vulnerability, or thoughtful pacing, that doesn’t mean you’re not coachable. It means readiness may depend as much on context as on personal willingness.

When your energy’s consistently focused on how to get others to change, coaching may feel limited. When curiosity extends to what’s within your control, including how you show up under pressure, and when the system allows some space to work with that, coaching has room to work.

5. ARE YOU WILLING TO EXPERIENCE DISCOMFORT IN SERVICE OF GROWTH?

Effective coaching isn’t confrontational, but it isn’t always comfortable. It surfaces habits you rely on, questions assumptions that’ve served you well, and invites you to experiment with behaviours that may feel awkward at first.

Your self-assessment score: _____

Coachable leaders aren’t fearless. They’re willing to feel mildly incompetent for a short period of time while learning something new. When discomfort consistently registers as danger, coaching may feel more threatening than helpful, which makes readiness an important consideration rather than a character judgement.

HOW TO MAKE SENSE OF YOUR RATINGS

Before moving on, pause and look across your ratings as a whole. Don’t add them up yet or average them. This isn’t about a score. What matters most is the pattern.

Notice where your ratings tend to cluster. Are there one or two questions where openness comes more easily for you, and one or two where defensiveness or hesitation reliably shows up? Those areas often point to the exact places where coaching does its most useful work.

If most of your ratings fall in the 4 to 5 range, coaching often feels like a stretch that’s energising rather than destabilising. You’re likely able to stay curious under pressure and to work productively with challenge.

If your ratings tend to cluster around 2 to 3, coaching can still be highly effective, but it may require a bit more time and patience as you build tolerance for uncertainty, feedback, or discomfort.

If several of your ratings are consistently at 1 or 2, that doesn’t mean coaching won’t work. It does suggest that timing, scope, or support structure matter greatly, and that naming this openly with a coach would be essential.

The goal of this assessment isn’t to decide whether you’re good enough for coaching. It’s to help you decide whether you’re ready to engage the work honestly, with support that fits where you are right now.

WHEN COACHING IS PROBABLY NOT THE RIGHT FIT

Coaching may not be the best investment at this moment if you’re primarily seeking advice or expert direction, if validation feels more important than challenge, if you hope a coach will fix a situation without requiring you to change how you operate within it, or if you’re navigating acute crisis, burnout, or mental health concerns that’d be better supported through therapy or medical care.

These aren’t character flaws; they’re signals about timing and fit.

WHEN COACHING TENDS TO WORK EXTREMELY WELL

Coaching’s often most effective when you sense that your current success is built on patterns that may not scale, when you’re willing to examine how your impact differs from your intent, when you want greater internal steadiness alongside external performance, and when you’re open to being surprised by what you discover about yourself.

This is often the point at which leaders move from doing leadership to inhabiting it more fully.

A FINAL REFLECTION BEFORE YOU DECIDE

The most coachable people I work with aren’t the ones who feel ready, confident, or certain. They’re the ones who are willing to tell the truth to themselves about where they are, without dramatizing it or minimising it.

If this article stirred defensiveness, curiosity, recognition, or resistance, that response matters more than whether you liked what you read.

YOUR COACHING CHALLENGE

At this point, you’ve taken an honest look at how you tend to relate to feedback, uncertainty, discomfort, and change.

Rather than treating this as a standalone exercise, I invite you to use what you’ve noticed to clarify your potential coaching topic.

Look back at your ratings and reflections and ask yourself:

• Where did I feel the most friction or defensiveness?

• Which question felt closest to a live issue in my leadership right now?

• What pattern, belief, or habit seems to sit underneath that reaction?

Those answers often point directly to a meaningful coaching focus, not a vague goal, but a real edge you’re currently navigating.

If you’re noticing a clear theme and you’re curious to explore it with support, an exploratory coaching conversation can help you test whether this is the right time, the right scope, and the right kind of coaching for you. There’s no pressure and no obligation, just a chance to think out loud with someone certified to help you explore yourself and your situation more fully.

Reach out for a free exploratory Executive Coaching conversation at www.leslierohonczy.com.

CONGRATS ON THE PROMOTION: Why Yesterday’s Leadership Tools Don’t Scale

LISTEN TO THE NARRATED AUDIOARTICLE VERSION

Congratulations on the big promotion! The kudos are rolling in, your calendar has exploded with meeting invitations, and you’re now attending meetings that used to feel slightly mysterious and intimidating. The scope has expanded, the mandate is bigger, and people are paying closer attention to what you say, and what you don’t.

And then you start to notice that something feels... off.

What used to get you noticed no longer carries the same weight at this level. It feels like familiar instincts are misfiring. The rooms feel different. Even the elevator rides feel awkward, heavier somehow, but you can’t quite put your finger on why.

This is a moment many newly promoted senior leaders don’t expect. Authority has arrived, but the internal shift is still catching up. Wouldn’t it be great if this promotion came with a briefing note explaining how approval works differently now, why growth often feels more like loss for a while, and how you’re expected to grow those elusive leadership characteristics called 'leadership presence' and 'strategic thinking'.

It’s a lot.

Consider this a working version of that briefing note, or at least some useful company for your next elevator ride.

WHEN APPROVAL STOPS WORKING

For most of your career, you look for specific signals to know that you were on the right track: approval, positive feedback, visible appreciation, recognition for being capable or collaborative.

Then you step into senior leadership and the usual signals stop working.

Approval becomes inconsistent, delayed, or occasionally, even nonexistent. Some of the most important decisions you now make will frustrate people you respect. It just comes with the territory. Praise drops off and ambiguity creeps in. Judgment, not agreement, becomes the real currency of the role.

This can be deeply unsettling, especially for leaders who’ve built their identity around being effective and well-regarded. It’s not that those qualities no longer matter. It’s that they can no longer carry the full load of this new role on their own.

At this level, leadership starts asking something different of you. Less reassurance. More internal steadiness. Better self-awareness. It’s not about picking up a new skill set. It’s about letting go of the version of leadership that got you here.

WHY GROWTH FEELS LIKE LOSS FIRST

Almost every leader I coach through this career transition talks about loss before they talk about growth. Loss of certainty. Loss of ease. Loss of the familiar rhythm of being unquestionably right or genuinely appreciated.

Leadership growth at this level starts with subtraction. You're going to need to let go of some behaviours that once kept you safe. You'll surrender approaches that helped you belong. You'll have to loosen your grip on proving your value through responsiveness, polish, or sheer effort.

At times, it can feel like you’re getting worse at your job. You’re not. This discomfort isn’t automatically a warning sign. It’s a normal part of your leadership evolution, as your nervous system, leadership identity, and expectations recalibrate around this larger role. Things feel unstable because they are, and that instability is part of the passage.

I see a familiar theme in my executive coaching work with clients: when leaders hit this phase, they instinctively reach for what’s always worked. That's a normal human reaction, of course. They get a bit tighter. More controlled. More certain on the surface. More performative. Not because they’re doing it wrong, but because those strengths and habits were what made them successful in the past. At this level, though, I see those same moves start to constrain them rather than help.

And this is an important distinction: I'm not saying that those familiar strengths must disappear. They’re still important tools in your leadership toolbelt. The difference is that this role calls for using them more selectively, not by default. As you rely on them a little less, it creates room to build new muscles and capabilities that this level actually demands; things like steadier presence, broader horizon awareness, more expansive judgment, and greater comfort holding complexity. The leaders I see navigate this most effectively are the ones who pause long enough to notice this shift, loosen their grip a little, experiment and adjust. They're also the ones who are willing to extend themselves more self-compassion as they learn their way into the role.

THE COST OF PERFORMING LEADERSHIP

One of the less obvious shifts I notice as leaders move into senior roles is how certainty starts to change shape.

Earlier in a career, sounding sure is often rewarded. It signals competence, keeps things moving, and reassures others that someone has a handle on the work. Those instincts don’t disappear with a promotion, and for good reason: they worked. At more senior levels, though, certainty can start to work against you.

In my coaching conversations, I often hear leaders describe a growing pressure they feel to have a clear point of view at all times, even when the situation is complex, politically charged, or genuinely unresolved. The performance of certainty can keep things tidy on the surface, but it also narrows the conversation. Fewer questions get asked. Fewer assumptions get tested. People start editing themselves in real time.

What’s tricky is that this doesn’t feel like overconfidence. It usually feels like responsibility. Leaders know decisions land with them, so they feel compelled to sound decisive, even when the best thinking is still emerging. Over time, that habit can limit both judgment and range. Certainty becomes something to maintain, rather than something to earn through sensemaking.

The leaders I see navigate this shift most effectively are the ones who notice when certainty has become reflexive rather than useful. They allow themselves to stay open a little longer, to think out loud, to name what isn’t clear yet. That doesn’t weaken their authority. In fact, in most cases, it strengthens it.

INHABITING AUTHORITY WITHOUT ARMOUR

Real authority is less dramatic than most people expect. It shows up as staying present and grounded when the room is tense. It shows up in decisions that carry long-term consequences, even when short-term clarity or approval is unlikely. It shows up when leaders allow others to have reactions without rushing in to manage them.

This kind of authority doesn’t come from the theatre of performing confidence. It comes from self-trust, emotional regulation, and the capacity to stand in ambiguity without rushing to tidy it up.

The leaders who navigate this transition well aren’t the ones who never doubt themselves. They’re the ones who stop using performance as a substitute for presence. They understand that leadership at this level is less about being seen a certain way, and more about being able to hold complexity without armour.

If you’ve recently stepped into a senior role and things feel harder rather than easier, that’s not a personal failure. It’s a predictable passage point. Authority changes the internal job description before it changes anything else.

Growth often arrives disguised as loss, so if you're feeling it, take heart. Depth tends to follow discomfort. Leadership becomes more sustainable, and even, dare I say, more enjoyable, when it stops being something you perform.

YOUR COACHING CHALLENGE

Over the next week, notice the moments when you reach for leadership behaviours that used to serve you well, but don’t seem to land the same way at this level.

Pay attention to situations where you reach for certainty too quickly, decisions where approval feels tempting but misaligned, and moments where you hold back to protect your image.

Don’t correct anything yet. Simply observe. Ask yourself what you’re being asked to let go of at this level, what familiar strengths you may be leaning on out of habit rather than choice, and where you might experiment with a steadier, less performative way of leading. Where does certainty feel reflexive rather than useful right now, and what might change if you stayed open a little longer?

If this transition feels heavier than you expected, you’re not alone. This is the terrain where executive coaching does its deepest work.

Reach out for a free exploratory Executive Coaching conversation at www.leslierohonczy.com.

WHY STRAIGHT TALK FEELS RISKY: The Cost of Safe Language

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A DECISION THAT NEVER ACTUALLY GETS MADE

You walk out of the meeting knowing that you and your colleagues have just spent ninety minutes talking intelligently about something that still hasn’t been decided.

Everyone contributes. The conversation is thoughtful and measured. People ask good questions, they share competing perspectives, and acknowledge differing opinions. There’s nuance, context, and carefully chosen language designed to signal openness and respect.

And yet, when the meeting ends, there’s no clear owner, no visible decision, and no shared understanding of what should move forward versus what remains under consideration. In other words, no one is sure what happens next.

The energy in the room isn’t tense or dysfunctional; it’s polite, competent, and professional. It’s also oddly unresolved, as if the big, important thing is hovering overhead, just out of reach, and unnamed. People leave with their notes and impressions, and often their assumptions begin to diverge the moment they leave the meeting.

Most of us recognize this moment immediately because it appears everywhere, in meetings at work, around family tables, and within long-standing friendships. We care about the people we’re talking with, and we care what they think about us and our perspectives. That’s just human nature, and it shapes how we choose our words. It feels like choosing careful language is a kindness, a way of being respectful and considerate. And sometimes it is.

The problem starts when careful language replaces clear, shared understanding. What feels risky in those moments isn’t actually the wording itself; it’s the exposure of our real opinions and priorities to the judgment of others, especially when relationships, reputation, or future influence feels at stake. When we avoid that exposure and tell ourselves we’re doing it out of care, the real cost shows up as eroding trust, slower decisions, and a lack of clarity that leaves others guessing where we actually stand.

HOW SAFE LANGUAGE BECOMES THE DEFAULT

We don’t end up in careful, polite conversations that never quite land because we’re timid or unclear thinkers. We arrive here through experience, because over time, we've watched words travel. We've seen them land in the moment, then move through emails, meetings, and retellings, and eventually come back sounding slightly different than what we intended. We’ve seen sentences lifted out of context, replayed in hallways, or forwarded with altered meanings, so we learn that showing our real views, preferences, and positions can feel risky, not because words are dangerous, but because being seen clearly can be.

Over time, we begin cushioning what we say. We add qualifiers; we soften edges; we leave doors open, just in case. And we choose language that signals caution rather than decisiveness.

In coaching conversations, I often hear this described as trying to be careful, not wanting to shut anything down, or wanting to leave room for input. Underneath that language is something more human and more uncomfortable to name: a desire to avoid being judged, misunderstood, or seen in a poor light, and a hope that by softening our words we can protect both other people’s feelings and our own credibility.

Safe language becomes a way for us to try to keep the peace, avoid awkward moments or pushback, and give ourselves some room to manoeuvre when things feel complicated. It feels responsible, especially when the stakes are high and the audience is broad. The trouble starts when this way of speaking becomes the default rather than a deliberate choice.

WHEN PROTECTION BECOMES A PROBLEM

At a certain point, the very language designed to protect us from exposure begins to create its own problems.

Decisions slow down. Ownership becomes fuzzy. Teams start doing interpretation work, trying to read between the lines to figure out what their leader actually means.

I write about a standout moment like this in my book Coaching Life, in chapter 19 on authenticity. I remember watching a senior leader in action at a large leadership meeting, and he was spectacular. As the chief executive officer and other executives presented their strategy, he calmly stood up from the audience, took the microphone, and stepped into what felt like a real danger zone to share his view of the progress they had made so far. His assessment was quite different from the prevailing stance in the room.

He didn’t posture or perform. He challenged their thinking respectfully but boldly, naming what wasn’t working and where they needed to do better. I remember sitting there, along with more than two hundred other leaders, completely gobsmacked by what we were witnessing.

Many of us interpreted that moment as bravery, and it was. But what struck me more deeply was how grounded he was in his convictions, and how willing he was to let others see where he actually stood. He spoke truth to power in a high-stakes forum, not to provoke, but because he believed it mattered.

His insights and opinions that day changed the course of several initiatives, and reprioritised the work in ways that helped the organisation regain focus and move forward. Within two years, he was promoted to a senior executive role, and later invited to step in as the acting chief executive officer during a leadership transition. That moment stayed with me because it showed the other side of the story. Straight talk can feel risky, but when it’s rooted in conviction and clarity, it can also build trust, momentum, and credibility in ways that careful language never will.

WHY THIS GETS HARDER WITH SENIORITY

As roles become more senior, straight talk can start to feel riskier, not because people lose confidence or capability, but because being seen clearly carries broader consequences.

At higher levels, there are more stakeholders to consider, more political dynamics to navigate, and more ripple effects that can’t be fully predicted, which means a single, clearly stated view is more likely to be interpreted, repeated, and acted on in ways that extend far beyond the original moment. We’ve all seen an executive make an offhand remark or ask a curious question, only to watch that comment turn into a full-blown project, when all they were really doing was thinking out loud. A single sentence can land very differently depending on who hears it and when.

At more senior levels, it's easy to confuse diplomacy with ambiguity and kindness with vagueness, because we're holding more than our own reputation. We're holding relationships, culture, and momentum along with it.

Straight talk begins to feel like something that might cost too much, because it can ask us to be seen more clearly than we’re quite comfortable with.

What often goes unspoken is that people can feel that hesitation, even when they can’t quite name it. They sense when their leader is circling around their real point of view rather than naming it directly. Over time, that gap erodes confidence, not only in the leader and their willingness to stand behind a clear position, but also in the team's confidence in their own judgment, and in the organization itself.

WHAT STRAIGHT TALK REQUIRES IN PRACTICE

I want to be clear about something here, because straight talk is not an abstract idea for me, nor is it optional in my work. As an executive coach, choosing clarity over comfort is part of the job. Speaking truth to power, naming what I see, and surfacing what others are often thinking but not saying isn't a stretch goal or nice to have; it’s a professional responsibility.

That doesn’t mean it’s effortless, or that there’s no judgment to navigate. It means I’ve learned that avoiding discomfort in the moment usually creates more discomfort later, for clients, teams, and systems that are already carrying too much ambiguity.

What this looks like in practice is a commitment to clarity over comfort. It means naming the real issue rather than circling it, being precise about what I see rather than over‑framing it, and resisting the urge to soften edges in ways that cloud new awareness or slow movement. It means trusting that people are more capable of handling clarity than we sometimes give them credit for, and remembering that avoiding discomfort in the moment usually creates more work later.

Those questions matter because straight talk, when it's done well, isn’t about provocation or bravado. It’s about respecting people enough to trust that they can handle clarity and candour. It’s about being willing to stand behind what you see and say, even when it creates a moment of discomfort. That’s the kind of visibility this work requires, and it’s the standard I hold myself to.

RECLAIMING STRAIGHT TALK

Straight talk isn’t harshness, oversharing, or saying everything that crosses your mind. It’s a willingness to let others see where you actually stand, in language that makes decisions clearer and action easier. It’s language that encourages movement. It reduces the invisible labour of interpretation that teams are so often left to carry. It names decisions without posturing and sets direction without shutting people down. The real work isn’t abandoning care, but noticing when care has turned into avoidance.

YOUR COACHING CHALLENGE

Before your next important conversation, pause and ask yourself this:

Where might my careful language be helping, and where might it now be getting in the way of clarity?

Then choose one situation where you will experiment with being a little more visible than usual. Name what you actually think. Be clear about what you are seeing, what you believe and why it matters, or what you think needs to happen next. Notice the urge to soften or over‑explain, and see what happens when you allow yourself to resist it. You don’t need to be blunt or provocative. You just need to be clear enough that others don’t have to guess where you stand.

As you experiment with this, notice three specific things:

1. How the conversation changes, for example, whether it becomes more focused or less tense

2. The impact on decision-making, such as clearer ownership or more explicit next steps

3. How people respond to you, including whether they ask fewer follow-up questions because your position is easier to understand

Once you’ve noticed these patterns, use your observations as data that will guide how and when you choose to be more visible in future conversations, especially in moments where you might normally default to caution.

If you'd like to explore the skill of straight talk in the context of your own leadership evolution, reach out for a free exploratory Executive Coaching conversation at www.leslierohonczy.com

WHAT REALLY HAPPENS IN A COACHING SESSION: A Look Inside the Conversations That Make a Difference

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When people come to talk to me, they’ve usually already done a lot of thinking. They’re often feeling the weight of responsibility, and a surprising amount of self-pressure. They've analyzed decisions, rehearsed and replayed conversations, weighed options, and tried to make sense of what’s in front of them. And despite their best efforts to reason it through, something still feels unresolved.

I always begin where my client is, and with the situation as it is: what happened, what was said, what didn’t land, who reacted and how, what now feels risky, uncomfortable, or unresolved. These details are necessary, and are often the most honest entry point into what’s really happening for them, and how I can help.

During that important first meeting, they’ll often describe their coaching objective as wanting advice or perspective, not because they don’t trust themselves, but because they’re looking for a way through a situation that feels risky, stubborn, or unresolved. In environments that reward decisiveness and momentum, it’s natural to want an efficient and responsible way to problem-solve, even when the terrain is complex or emotionally charged.

But as our conversation unfolds, something else starts to come into view. Alongside the situation itself, they begin to notice their interpretation of what’s happening, the assumptions they’re making, the habits of thought they return to, and the blind spots that may be shaping their reactions. Over time, many realize that changing other people, or waiting for the context to improve, isn’t what coaching is about, and wouldn’t actually help them be more effective or successful in what they’re trying to navigate.

During these early conversations, something subtle but remarkable takes place: the conversation gradually shifts without either of us forcing it. People begin to hear themselves differently. They notice where a particular frustration keeps reappearing, or how strongly they react to a certain powerful question. Sometimes they pause and say, almost to themselves, “Wow, I’ve never thought about it that way before,” or “I’ve been feeling this for so long, but I haven't been able to put it into words until now.”

What’s happening in those moments isn’t accidental. It’s the result of two unique perspectives coming together in service of the client. For the coach's perspective, it means careful listening (to what's being said, and what isn't), well-timed questions intended to create new insight, and attention to patterns the client may not yet be aware of. It also means creating enough room for them to think out loud and examine their patterns without feeling judged or rushed toward a solution. And from the client's perspective, it’s an opportunity to see themselves in the system more clearly, and to notice how their own wiring, assumptions, and patterns are shaping what’s possible. In that kind of space, behaviour, motivation, and context start to connect in ways that are almost impossible to access on their own, especially during a busy workday.

What often comes into focus next isn’t a neat answer, but a clearer sense of orientation. With a coach as a thinking partner, people gain new perspectives and start to see what matters most to them, what they’ve been protecting, and where they may have been holding back. That clarity is very practical. It shapes how they approach the situation, what they’re prepared to challenge, and what they’re willing to let go of.

I see this play out in small, ordinary moments all the time. A client will be describing a familiar frustration they have with a colleague or stakeholder, and I ask them what they notice about how that person is wired, what they tend to value first, or what reliably gets their attention. There’s often a pause, sometimes a laugh, and then something like, “Oh. I’ve been coming at them from my own perspective and preferences. Now I see why that wasn’t landing.” Nothing has been solved yet, but the person is suddenly inside the situation rather than just reacting to it.

Other times, someone has been circling an issue for a while, speaking carefully and professionally, sometimes even guardedly, when a word or phrase I offer really lands for them. I’ll offer it more as a mirror than a diagnosis or conclusion, and they’ll often stop mid-sentence for a long pause, followed by, “Yes! That’s it. That's how I feel!” In that moment, the issue moves from being a heavy, internal tangle to something clearer and more usable; something they can actually engage with rather than silently absorb.

And sometimes, the shift is even simpler. Some people arrive determined to make the right decision and are frustrated that they haven't been able to until now. As they talk through the trade-offs, the risks, and what matters most to them, I've seen many people stop mid-sentence and say, “I think I already know what I should do.” What they needed wasn’t a better answer, but enough space to trust the one that was already there, just out of sight.

Through the coaching process, people often come to realize that what they needed wasn’t direction, but permission. Permission to acknowledge doubt without immediately correcting it. Permission to name a value conflict they’ve been trying to smooth over. Permission to admit that something which looks sensible on paper doesn’t actually sit well with them in practice. Permission to experiment. Permission to do something outside of their comfort zone.

Language plays a central role here. Many people arrive with a strong sense that something isn’t right, but without the words to describe it clearly. When they find language for that experience, their relationship to it changes. It becomes something they can work with, rather than something that weighs on them in the background. Coaching doesn’t solve the puzzle for someone; it helps them see the shape of it more clearly.

My role as coach in these conversations isn’t to improve the question or guide someone toward a better answer. I stay with the question they bring. I listen for what seems to matter, and I help them stay with their own thinking long enough to understand it more fully. When insight emerges, it belongs to them.

Sometimes that insight leads directly to a next step. Sometimes it reframes the situation enough that the path forward looks different. Sometimes it simply provides steadier footing before any action is taken. When advice or perspective becomes useful in later coaching conversations, it lands because it’s connected to the person’s own understanding, not because it replaces it.

Near the end of a coaching session, people will often comment that they feel clearer or more settled, even though nothing external has changed. Their role may still be demanding. The decision they need to make may still be complex. That difficult relationship may still require care. What’s shifted is how they’re carrying it, and that shift alone can make the next step feel more manageable.

They leave with a stronger sense of their own judgment and a clearer internal reference point. That doesn’t come from being told what they need or should do. It comes from having time to think in a specific way that connects their experience with their values and their choices.

Many leaders and professionals are surrounded by input, opinions, data, and constant expectations, yet they are still expected to decide, act, and lead with confidence. Over time, this pressure can make it hard to see clearly what is actually asking for attention, or what part of the situation is truly theirs to own and work with. At its best, coaching helps people make sense of complex situations, work through difficult emotions without being overwhelmed by them, and arrive at decisions they can stand behind. That clarity shows up in very practical ways, in the choices they make, the conversations they have, and the steadiness they bring to moments of uncertainty.

YOUR COACHING CHALLENGE

Set aside 15 minutes of uninterrupted time to reflect or write about what is currently stretching, frustrating, or unsettling you in your leadership. Where you feel least at ease, most unsure, or preoccupied? How would you like to think, feel, and behave differently in this situation if you could? This reflection forms the foundation of your coaching topic.

Next, write down what you want to change in those situations, beginning with "I'd like to be more able to...". Here are some actual client examples of powerful coaching topics to use as inspiration:

I'd like to be more able to:

• communicate clearly and calmly under pressure

• enhance my influencing skills and leadership presence

• step into my new role and lead my former peers with confidence

• influence with steadiness and credibility when the stakes are high

• manage my emotional interior when in conflict with others

• build a strong relationship with my leader based on trust and clear expectations

• balance my career strategy with my personal resilience

• authentically and confidently embrace my full leadership role

• make powerful leadership choices aligned with strategic business objectives

When you can write your coaching topic in one clear sentence, you’ve usually put your finger on the real work, the place where your leadership is being tested, and where focused coaching can make the greatest difference.

If you’re curious about what this kind of conversation could offer you, reach out for a free exploratory Executive Coaching conversation at www.leslierohonczy.com.