The Identity Shift No One Talks About 

I remember stewing on a conversation for days.

Someone in my team had dropped the ball. It needed addressing. Pretty straightforward, except for one thing. That person was my friend. Had been long before I became their leader.

So I wrote it down. Revised it. Rewrote it again. Ran through how it might go in my head about a hundred times. Then finally had the conversation.

And it didn't go perfectly. Turns out I'd been unclear on a couple of things myself. I had to own that. We worked through it together and got to a good place. But what stayed with me wasn't the conversation itself. It was everything that came before it.

All that stewing. All that second-guessing. Not because the issue was complicated. But because I hadn't quite figured out who I was supposed to be in that moment.

Because something shifts when you move from being part of a team to leading one. And it's not what most people expect.

It's not the skills that catch you out. It's the identity.

One day you're a colleague. A friend. Someone who does the work alongside people. Then suddenly you're the one responsible for having the hard conversation when the work isn't good enough. And the friendship that used to make everything easier is now the thing making it harder.

That's the shift nobody really prepares you for. From doing to developing. From being one of the team to being responsible for the team. And it doesn't happen in a day. It's a slow recalibration of who you are in the room.

What I've come to understand is this. Letting go of the old identity isn't disloyalty to the friendships or the work you loved doing. It's what the role actually asks of you. Because what you hold onto, you limit. And what you release, you multiply.

The conversation I'd been dreading? It worked out. Not because I got it perfectly right. But because I showed up to it as a leader rather than a friend trying to avoid an awkward moment.

That's where it starts.

The Conversation

Think about the role you're in now. Is there a version of your old self you're still holding onto? A relationship, a habit, a way of showing up that used to serve you but might be getting in the way?

What is leadership asking you to release?

Arohanui
Mary-Anne 😊

Why Do We Make Excuses For People Who Treat Us Badly?

I've worked with someone who made me scared to ask a question.

Not because I didn't know what I was doing. Not because the question wasn't valid. But because I never quite knew what reaction I'd get. Would they snap? Dismiss it? Make me feel like I should have already known the answer? So I'd think about it. Weigh it up. Wonder if it was worth it. And more often than not, I'd stay quiet.

And here's the thing. I wasn't alone. Everyone around me was doing the same thing. Tiptoeing. Carefully choosing their words. Softening their approach. Bracing slightly before speaking.

We all knew. Nobody said it.

Instead we said things like, that's just how they are. You get used to it. Once you get to know them you'll like them. They mean well. They're just direct.

And I've been thinking about that ever since. Because those phrases sound like understanding. Like generosity. Like giving someone the benefit of the doubt.

But sometimes they're just a way of making peace with something that isn't ok.

Because when we normalise behaviour that makes people scared to ask a question, we don't just protect the person doing it. We silence everyone around them. We send a message, this is just how it is here. Adjust yourself accordingly. And people do. They get smaller. They stop contributing fully. They save their best thinking for somewhere it feels safer to share it.

And the cost of that is enormous. Not just to the people tiptoeing. To the whole team. To the work. To the culture.

So why do we do it? Why do we make excuses for people whose behaviour isn't ok?

Sometimes it's about power. When someone is more senior, more established, more certain than us, it feels easier to adapt than to name it. The risk feels too high. And the fear of their reaction, of being dismissed, humiliated, or making things worse, keeps us exactly where we are.

Sometimes it's about loyalty. We know the person. We know they're not bad. We separate their behaviour from their intention and give the intention the benefit of the doubt.

And sometimes it's simpler than that. We just don't have the language. We don't know how to name it without it becoming a bigger deal than we feel equipped to handle.

But here's what I've learned. When we don't name it, it doesn't go away. It just goes underground. And underground it does more damage, not less.

So what do you do when you're scared of the reaction? Here are some approaches that protect you while still moving things forward.

Name the pattern, not the person. In a team setting, raise it as a general question rather than about anyone specific. Something like, how do we make sure everyone feels comfortable raising ideas and questions here? It opens the conversation without anyone feeling targeted. Including you.

Use curiosity instead of critique. Rather than naming the behaviour directly, approach it as wanting to understand. Something like, I want to make sure I'm communicating well with you. Can I ask what works best when I need to raise something? It puts the framing on you rather than them, which lowers the defensiveness immediately.

Find one trusted person first. Before you do anything, say it out loud to someone you trust. Not to gossip. Just to reality check. Am I reading this right? That alone reduces the isolation and helps you figure out your next move.

Write it before you say it. If you need to raise something directly, write it down first. Not to send, just to get clear on what you actually want to say and what outcome you're looking for. It slows the emotional brain down and helps you find the words before you're in the room.

Choose your moment carefully. Timing matters enormously with reactive people. Catch them when they're settled, not rushed or stressed. A quieter moment one on one is almost always safer than raising something in a group.

None of these are guaranteed. But all of them are better than staying quiet and getting smaller.

Because the behaviour that goes unnamed gets permission to continue. And everyone in the room pays the price.

The Conversation

Is there someone in your world whose behaviour you've been making excuses for?

And instead of staying quiet, what's one small move you could make this week?

Go with confidence this week

Mary-Anne

The Weight of Responsibility (And Not Carrying It All)

The Weight of Responsibility (And Not Carrying It All)

Imagine strapping on a heavy backpack and climbing a mountain. Not a short walk. Ten, twelve hours. Intense terrain. Thin air.

After a while you stop noticing the weight. It just becomes normal. But your body is paying for it. Your steps get smaller. Your decisions get slower. You're still moving, but you're not moving well.

That's what it looks like when we carry too much as leaders.

And here's the thing. Most of us don't even realise we're doing it.

We're tired. Exhausted. Rushed. Constantly busy. Not stopping to think before we act. And somewhere in all of that, we've become the person everyone brings everything to. Because we'll sort it. We always do.

It feels like leadership. It feels like being helpful. If we're really honest, it feels like being liked.

But every time we solve something for someone else, we put another rock in our pack and take one out of theirs. And over time, without meaning to, we've diminished the people around us. Not by being cruel. By not giving them the opportunity to think for themselves.

We became the rescuer. But we're actually the one who needs rescuing.

A 2023 Deloitte report found that when we consistently step into problem solving, team ownership quietly drops. Not because people are disengaged. Because they've learned they don't need to be. We taught them that.

The shift is simple. Not easy, but simple.

Next time someone brings you a problem, instead of reaching for the answer, try asking: "What do you think we should do?"

Stay with them. Don't rescue them. Let them carry their own pack for a bit.

Because when someone else takes even a little of the weight, something shifts. You stand taller. You can look up and see where you're actually going. The mountain doesn't get smaller. But suddenly you feel like you can climb it.

The Conversation

Think about who you're currently rescuing. And ask yourself honestly, are you helping them grow, or are you just carrying their weight because it's faster and it feels good?

Because the heaviest pack on the mountain isn't always the work. Sometimes it's everything we took on that was never ours to carry.

Go well this week

Mary-Anne

Knowing Yourself… And Your Impact

Knowing Yourself… And Your Impact

Have you ever stood at the edge of a ravine and looked across to the other side?

From a distance, the gap looks manageable. Crossable. Not that big a deal. But when you're standing right at the edge, looking down, it feels a whole lot wider than it did from back there.

That's what the gap between intention and impact feels like in leadership.

We say something. We mean it one way. It lands another. And in that gap, relationships are at risk. Not because anyone was trying to cause harm. But because the words didn't travel the way we thought they would.

Most of us don't even realise the gap exists until we're standing in the middle of it. A conversation that felt clear on our side somehow landed as criticism on theirs. Feedback we thought was helpful felt like a personal attack. Direction we gave in confidence created confusion instead.

We meant well. That part is true. But meaning well doesn't always mean landing well. And in leadership, it's the landing that matters.

Tasha Eurich's research found that while most of us believe we're self-aware, very few actually demonstrate it in practice. The gap isn't effort. It's accuracy. Seeing how your behaviour actually lands, not just how you meant it.

That's the bridge. Not between two cliff edges, but between your intention and someone else's experience. And building that bridge takes a different kind of attention. Not just "what did I mean?" but "what did they actually receive?"

Because once you start asking that second question, everything shifts. Conversations open differently. Feedback lands better. Relationships hold more weight.

And the gap? It doesn't disappear. But you get a lot better at knowing when you're standing at the edge of one.

The Conversation

Think about a recent conversation that didn't quite land the way you intended. Not a catastrophe. Just one that felt a little off.

What did you mean? And what do you think they actually received?

That gap, right there, is worth sitting with.

Arohanui

Mary-Anne 😊

Holding Yourself Steady (When Leadership Feels Personal)

Holding Yourself Steady (When Leadership Feels Personal)

You know those times when something just gets under your skin?

Someone says something. Does something. And before you've had a chance to think, you can feel it rising. That wee tad of annoyance. That tightening.

It happened to me recently. Someone backed into my parked car at the supermarket, admitted it on the spot, then a few days later decided they weren't actually sure they'd done it. I felt myself starting to lose my rag. And honestly? Fair enough. But it got me thinking about what happens in those moments for us as leaders.

Because it happens at work too. Someone questions a decision. A conversation goes sideways. Someone says something that just doesn't sit right. And suddenly we're not leading from a clear head anymore. We're leading from that feeling.

Maya Angelou said it's rarely the words people remember. It's the feeling they were left with. And that's the bit that stops most of us in our tracks, because in those crunchy moments, the feeling we're carrying is written all over how we show up.

So what do we do with it?

First, notice it. Not after the conversation. During it. That's the hard part. Because when we're rattled, we're usually too busy being rattled to clock that it's happening. The work is building enough awareness to catch yourself mid moment and think, "okay, something's happening for me here."

Then, change your state. That looks different for everyone. A breath. A pause. Stepping out for five minutes and a cuppa. Whatever gets you back to a place where you can communicate the way you actually want to. Not perfectly. Just intentionally.

We're all human. We lose it sometimes. That's not the problem. The problem is when we don't notice it happening until the damage is done.

The Conversation

Have a think about it this week. What rattles your cage? When do you notice it, in the moment, or after the fact? And what do you need to do to change your state so you can come back at it differently?

Those questions are worth sitting with. Because the answers are yours, and they matter.

Go well this week
Mary-Anne