There’s a version of self-censorship that isn’t silence. You haven't said nothing. Something has been said, just not quite the thing you were thinking. I’ve generally been good at getting a sense of people and very early in my career I would work out what someone wanted to hear. Then somewhere between the initial thought and the words, I'd create a version of that, instead of what I actually thought. Not lying. Just adapting. Softening the edge towards what would land well. N

I worked with a VP at a payments tech company who couldn't enjoy time with his own child. With great self-awareness he described how he'd be there, physically at least. Toys between him and his child. The whole scene of a present father. But his head was somewhere else entirely... ...replaying the day. Rehearsing tomorrow. Half-listening for his phone and calculating what he might be missing by not checking it. His child would show him something and he'd perform the engaged p

Being competent is how most of us first announce ourselves at work. It's our PR campaign. The thing that says — I belong here, you can rely on me. It builds reputation and gets us promoted. And it can work so well that, somewhere along the way, it stops being a thing we do and becomes a thing we are. I didn't notice it happening in myself for a long time. The things I worked on went well. My instincts were proved right. So more and bigger things came my way and I said yes. I

When you reach the upper echelons of leadership, the challenges you face become more complex. The decisions you make ripple across your organisation and beyond. It’s no longer just about managing teams or projects; it’s about shaping vision, culture, and long-term success. That’s where leadership coaching for executives steps in. It’s a powerful tool designed to help you navigate these challenges with clarity and confidence. I’ve seen first hand how targeted coaching can tran

There are about a dozen sleep aids on and around my bedside table. Sprays. Tablets. Patches. Things that were supposed to help quiet my brain. They accumulated gradually. One when nights got difficult, another when that stopped working, another after that. I even had a ‘sleep kit’ to take to hotels with me. At some point I realised I couldn't remember acquiring most of them. They'd just appeared. A physical inventory of something I struggled to name. I remember when my mobile

There's a version of us all that exists at weekends. Easier. Less managed. More present in conversations. Having opinions without checking them first. And then Sunday evening arrives and something can close down. Not dramatically. Just a slight tightening. A focusing. By Monday morning you're a different person — more careful, more constructed. More useful, probably. Less oneself. That definitely used to be me. The closing down became so automatic it just felt like going to w

If anyone had asked, I’d have said I was a good listener at work. Engaged. Responsive. I asked questions. Remembered details. From the outside it probably looked like genuine attention. It took a while to understand what I was actually doing. Before every significant conversation, without realising, I created a hole. A shape that the conversation needed to fill. And as people spoke, my mind ran everything through a filter to determine whether it fitted. Was it the right shape

Recently, I went with the flow on a family decision. Nothing dramatic. Low stakes. I had a different instinct. But the consensus was forming and saying something felt like more trouble than it was worth. So I said nothing. When things played out as I had imagined, I felt a sinking feeling that wasn't about the decision. It was the recognition that I had known and hadn't trusted myself, or those around me, enough to voice it. What struck me was, this wasn't a boardroom. There

And the day they were made Director was the day they felt least certain of themself. From the outside the promotion was a natural next step. They were respected, capable. From the inside it felt like standing on ground that hadn't quite settled. They described it as unfamiliar, destabilising. Not in a way that affected their performance. Just a persistent unsteadiness underneath their day-to-day. What emerged, when we worked together, wasn't what they had expected. It wasn't

It used to be a strange day for me, Sunday. Somehow it had become the start of my working week. Sometimes it would begin in the morning but definitely by 4pm it would be there. A shift in the quality of attention. The conversations I was half in. Thoughts about Tuesday's meeting arriving without an invitation and staying longer than needed. By Sunday afternoon my working week had started. I just hadn't left the house yet. I used to think this was just how things were. The pri

We have basic needs as humans. Being part of the tribe. Feeling relevant. A leader I worked with found the way they could achieve this was by jumping in to help. Answering questions that hadn't been directed at them. Clarifying things that were still forming. Offering something nobody had asked for. When we explored how they wanted to show up, they noticed it themselves. The behaviour was small but it was constant. From the outside it looked like contribution. To them it felt

Ever played sleeping lions? The one where kids have to hold still for 60 seconds. What I notice when I’ve played is how differently the same amount of time is experienced. Some think it's over in half the time. Others settle in and just... wait. Time really is a perception. And slowing down doesn't have to mean taking more of it, it’s a state of mind not a speed. When people talk about slowing down, they sometimes mean doing less, moving at a different pace, creating space

Some decisions just feel right. Not necessarily because they’re easy. Because they’re ready. They've had time to percolate and when the moment comes, you know. Other decisions can feel right too, but for different reasons. Perhaps because a response has been habitualised and those around you expect it. Perhaps because moving quickly becomes part of how you operate. Those two things can feel the same in the moment. That's what makes it worth paying attention to. I made a decis

For a long time I prided myself in making decisions quickly. I was of the school of ‘A good decision today is better than a perfect decision tomorrow’. (A quote attributed to Gen. George Patton though who I thought I was a war with I don’t know.) I didn’t make the decisions recklessly. I made them confidently. With the kind of clarity that lands well with others. It seemed to work. People didn't challenge it. Things moved forward. So I kept doing it and it felt good. What I d

Nobody tells us that thinking isn't our job. We just start acting like it isn't. Because there's always something more immediate. More visible. More obviously useful than sitting quietly with a problem. So thinking gets fitted around everything else, taken home. Happening at night when sleep would be more valuable. The space to reflect, to consider direction, to notice what's actually happening becomes the thing you'll get to when the real work is done. Which it rarely is. My

Some work drains you because it is difficult. I understand that more easily than the work that drains you because it never quite stops. The messages answered between meetings. A quick decision made on the move. The steady stream of small interruptions that seem harmless on their own, but combine to create a constant hum. None of it looks heavy. But constant availability creates its own kind of fatigue. You're always half somewhere else. Always available, never quite present.

I've had a couple of weeks recently where nothing was obviously wrong. Things got done, calls were made. If you'd asked me how they’d gone, I would have said: "Fine." And yet by the Friday, I was more tired than I should have been. Not exhausted. Just... flat. Drained in a way that didn't match the workload. It's taken me a while to understand what was happening. But it’s become clear that I’d been working unconsciously. Not towards a goal or outcome but reactively, jumping f

You've been promoted for being across it all. The one who sees everything, fixes everything, carries everything. It feels great, you’re in flow. Then with a broader remit, there are more things to see, more things to fix, more things to carry. Your to-do list becomes full of problems only you can solve. Your team comes to you for every decision. You're in every meeting "just to make sure things are progressing". Sound familiar? You know you should be thinking more strategical

Stories embed and old stories persist even when your environment changes. Something simple like driving abroad, have you ever ended up in the passenger seat when you’re meant to be the driver or felt the pull to be on the left side of the road? Or when a bathroom has the hot tap on the right, have you scalded yourself when trying to brush your teeth? Well your work life is no different. If your brain has learned that being hands-on, solving problems quickly and making sure th

I've had a couple of conversations recently in which people's saboteur voices were revealed. The ones that tell the old story of why something won't happen or has to happen in a particular way to have any value or be right. On both occasions, when that voice was revealed, the person gained insight but there was reluctance in letting that voice go. There's security in that old thinking. It's kept them safe in some way. And letting go of it feels unfamiliar and exposing. This i