Becoming an Editor of Your Thoughts
Becoming an Editor of Your Thoughts
The other day, I was preparing to facilitate a leadership workshop when I noticed my mind racing ahead, rehearsing the agenda, anticipating questions, checking the clock. On the surface, I seemed calm; underneath, I was already in overdrive. Then a minor tech glitch appeared just before we began, and I felt that familiar surge, breath shortening, focus narrowing, the kind of moment where you wonder if you are leading a workshop or starring in a live demonstration of the stress response.
These moments can catch any of us off guard. That is where the idea of the window of tolerance comes in handy. Coined by psychiatrist Daniel Siegel, it describes the zone where we feel grounded and able to manage what is happening around us. Inside that window, we can think clearly, listen deeply, and respond with care. Step outside it, and our nervous system takes over, pulling us into reactivity, overwhelm, or shutdown (also known as pretending to check your notes while actually rebooting your soul).
When our thoughts start to spiral, we can slip out of that window without realising it. And because leadership is relational, our state tends to ripple through the room faster than the Wi Fi. Neuroscience tells us that when stress hijacks our system, the prefrontal cortex, the part of the brain responsible for reasoning and problem solving, temporarily goes offline. In other words, the calm, capable version of ourselves quietly leaves the building.
Leadership researcher Ryan Gottfredson points out that great leaders are not immune to emotional triggers, they just find their way back to balance faster. They have learned to spot the drift and gently steer themselves home before things spiral.
Author Nataly Kogan calls this emotional fitness, the ability to become an editor of your thoughts rather than a passenger to them. When those familiar inner scripts start rolling, “I cannot do this,” “I am behind,” or “I need caffeine and a miracle,” we can pause and ask, Is this true? Is it helpful? Does it move me closer to the leader I want to be? That small pause creates space to choose a wiser response instead of reacting on autopilot.
Even the simple act of naming what is happening, I feel anxious, I feel stretched, I feel like hiding under my desk for five minutes, helps settle the nervous system and bring the thinking brain back online. Over time, these micro edits strengthen our ability to stay within our window of tolerance and lead with clarity, humour, and heart.
In the end, becoming an editor of your thoughts is not about deleting the messy drafts. It is about noticing what is on the page, making small, intentional edits, and choosing words and responses that move you closer to the kind of leader you want to be.
Reflection Prompts
What thought loop has been running most loudly for me this week?
What emotion sits underneath that thought, and what happens when I simply name it?
If I could rewrite my mental script today, what thought would I choose to highlight instead?
Stay Steady,
Mary-Anne
Checking Your Leadership Dashboard: Spotting the Warning Lights Before Burnout
Checking Your Leadership Dashboard: Spotting the Warning Lights Before Burnout
Before take-off, a pilot scans the dashboard — checking every signal, every gauge. Each light tells a story: fuel, altitude, pressure, balance. Ignoring even one could cause problems later in the flight.
Leadership is much the same. We all have an internal dashboard that gives us signals when things aren’t running smoothly. The trouble is, we’re often so focused on helping others reach their destination that we miss our own warning lights.
The other morning, a small light appeared on my car’s dashboard. It wasn’t dramatic — just quietly glowing, reminding me something needed attention. Our inner systems work the same way. Fatigue, frustration, or disconnection are early signs, softly signalling us to slow down and check in — before those quiet warnings turn into a mayday call.
What Burnout Really Is
Burnout is not just being tired or having a busy season. The World Health Organisation defines burnout as a syndrome that results from chronic workplace stress that has not been successfully managed. It has three key features:
Exhaustion: feeling completely drained, emotionally and physically.
Cynicism or detachment: losing connection to the work or the people we serve.
Reduced effectiveness: struggling to perform tasks that once came easily.
In Aotearoa, this is becoming increasingly common. A 2024 Massey University study found that 57 percent of workers were at high risk of burnout, more than double the figure just months earlier. The Wellness at Work Report 2024 reported that 61 percent of employees had felt burnout in the past three months, with the number climbing to 70 percent for Gen Z workers.
These are not just statistics. They are a mirror showing us how easy it is to drive on empty without noticing until the engine begins to fail.
Checking Your Dashboard
So what should we be looking for on our personal dashboards? Here are some of the most common warning lights:
Energy gauge: You wake up tired, even after a full night of sleep. Coffee no longer cuts it.
Focus indicator: You are forgetting things, struggling to concentrate, or procrastinating on tasks you would normally handle with ease.
Mood sensor: You find yourself irritable, snapping at small things, or feeling flat and disconnected.
Connection signal: You avoid people, dread meetings, or feel detached from your team.
Meaning meter: The purpose behind your work feels distant, and what once inspired you now feels like a burden.
Body alerts: Headaches, muscle tension, or ongoing health niggles. The body keeps the score of ongoing stress.
These are not signs of failure. They are data. They are your dashboard showing you it is time to pull over and reset.
Catching Ourselves Early
The (somewhat) good news is that burnout doesn’t arrive without warning — it builds gradually, light by light. Which means we can catch it early. Taking a micro-pause to ask, How’s my dashboard looking today? helps us notice when we’re running low on fuel or flying through turbulence.
Small resets — stepping outside for air, breathing deeply, reaching out for connection — act like quick maintenance checks. They steady our systems and keep us flight-ready.
Leaders who tune in to their own dashboards don’t just protect their wellbeing; they model a culture where others feel permission to do the same.
Reflection Prompts
If I looked honestly at my dashboard today, what warning lights are glowing?
Which part of my dashboard; energy, focus, mood, connection, meaning, body, needs the most attention right now?
What small action could I take this week to reset before I hit empty?
Go well this week
Mary-Anne
When Feedback Shakes Who We Are
When Feedback Shakes Who We Are
We’ve all been there. You’re sitting in a feedback conversation and before you even realise it, your stomach drops, your chest tightens, and your mind races. You’re not just hearing words. You’re feeling something deeper: a shake in your sense of self.
Stone and Heen call this an “Identity quake.” In their book Thanks for the Feedback they write:
“An identity quake can knock us off balance… our sense of self is knocked off-kilter.” (Stone & Heen, 2014)
That phrase captures the experience so well. Feedback doesn’t just land on the surface — it reverberates through our foundations. Especially when it strikes at the three pillars of how we see ourselves:
Our competence (Am I capable?),
Our moral character (Am I a good person?), and
Our worthiness of love and belonging (Am I valued?).
When those pillars shake, even the smallest comment can feel like an earthquake.
Why This Matters for Leaders
As leaders, we ask others to receive feedback with openness and grace. But if we don’t model it ourselves; if we shut down, get defensive, or personalise, our teams will notice. Our ability to separate the self from the behaviour is one of the most important leadership muscles we can build.
Anchoring Through the Quake
Stone and Heen remind us that the antidote to an identity quake is to broaden our identity. Instead of defining ourselves narrowly (“I must be good at this at all times”), we can hold multiple anchors:
I am a learner.
I am resilient.
I am more than this role or moment.
By building these identity anchors, we create room to absorb feedback without it flattening us.
Reflection for You
Next time you feel the quake:
Pause. Notice what’s shaking.
Name it. Is it competence? Character? Belonging?
Anchor. Remind yourself: “I am more than this moment. This is information, not a verdict.”
Feedback is rarely easy. But if we can hold our identity lightly — seeing ourselves as learners rather than finished products — the quake doesn’t have to break us. It can instead become a tremor that opens new ground for growth.
Go with courage,
Mary-Anne
When Team Tension Becomes Your Leadership Terrain
When Team Tension Becomes Your Leadership Terrain
Team tension doesn’t always arrive loudly.
Sometimes, it simmers.
A clipped tone.
A side glance.
The kind of silence that says more than words ever could.
You feel it.
And whether you name it or not, your team feels it too.
Ron Heifetz, in his work on adaptive leadership, reminds us that the toughest leadership work isn’t about technical fixes, it’s about staying present in the heat of discomfort.
“Real leadership is about helping people face challenges for which there are no easy answers, and staying with them while they find their way through.”
And that kind of leadership begins not with answers, but with curiosity.
When disconnection shows up, don’t delay.
You don’t need to call a full team reset.
You need to ask better questions.
Try gently naming what you’re sensing:
“How are things feeling in the team right now? Anything sitting under the surface?”
“What might we not be saying that needs to be said?”
Or bring focus to the unspoken patterns:
“Have there been moments recently that haven’t sat quite right?”
Where might we be contributing, even unintentionally, to how things are feeling?”
Sometimes, tension is a quiet invitation to reset the climate, not by controlling it, but by caring for it. That’s kaitiakitanga in action.
And while you don’t need to referee every ripple, you do have a responsibility to set the tone.
To help the team move from assumption to awareness.
From stuckness to shared ownership.
So ask:
“What would help us reconnect and work with more ease and trust?”
“How can we support each other in both the mahi and the messiness?”
And don’t forget to look inward:
“What’s one shift I could make this week that might change the energy in this space?”
You’re not expected to have all the answers.
But you are invited to lead the questions that matter.
Hold the space.
Don’t rush to fix.
Make room for truth, and for people to find their own footing again.
Thought Prompt:
What one conversation, if you initiated it this week, could shift the energy and restore connection in your team?
Back yourself.
Mary‑Anne
Leading with Neuro-Inclusion — When “Understanding” Isn’t Enough
Leading with Neuro-Inclusion — When “Understanding” Isn’t Enough
Imagine being in a room built for everyone but you.
The lights buzz and flicker.
The instructions are rushed, vague, or only verbal.
The pace moves fast, and there’s no time to pause, translate, or ask.
You’re doing the work. You’re holding it together.
But on the outside? You look fine.
So no one notices the effort it’s taking just to stay afloat.
For many neurodivergent team members, this isn’t the exception.
It’s the everyday.
Judy Singer, the sociologist who coined the term neurodiversity, reminds us that conditions like ADHD, autism, dyslexia, and sensory processing differences aren’t pathologies to fix; they’re natural variations in how human brains function.
They bring challenges, yes, but also deep and often untapped strengths:
pattern recognition, creative problem-solving, compassion, hyper-focus, deep empathy.
But here’s the catch:
Those strengths can only thrive in spaces that are built with difference in mind.
And most workplaces weren’t.
That’s why we need to talk about neuro-inclusion, not just accepting or accommodating neurodivergence,
but actively designing spaces, systems, and cultures that welcome it.
Neuro-inclusion asks:
How are we building workplaces where all brains can thrive?
What would it look like if difference was expected, not exceptional?
How can we shift from permission to participation?
This is where Universal Design for Learning (UDL) gives us a way forward.
UDL invites us to build flexibility in from the beginning, offering multiple ways for people to access, engage, and express.
It removes barriers before they become exclusion. It treats variety as a given, not a problem to solve.
Inclusion isn’t about adjusting the margins.
It’s about redesigning the middle.
It’s about creating environments where people don’t have to ask to belong.
And while leaders play a critical role, this isn’t just top-down.
Neuro-inclusion is also a call for self-responsibility. For those of us who are neurodivergent, part of this journey is learning to name what supports us best, when we can. That might look like:
Asking for information in writing
Sharing that we process more slowly in noisy spaces
Requesting time to prepare ahead of meetings
It’s not always easy.
It takes energy and vulnerability.
But asking is part of reshaping the system.
And every time we do, we make it easier for someone else.
You don’t need a formal diagnosis to deserve dignity.
You don’t need to be an expert in neuroscience to lead with compassion.
You just need to be curious.
To ask.
To listen.
To lead with aroha.
Because clarity, flexibility, and kindness aren’t just “nice to have.”
They are the building blocks of truly inclusive culture.
Something to Reflect On:
What one thing could you shift in your space, your systems, or your expectations, to move from accommodation to neuro-inclusion?
With care,
Mary‑Anne