Why leading others starts with leading yourself—What I wish I knew sooner

When I walked away from my career in corporate education, people asked me what I was running from. But I wasn’t running. I was finally turning toward something—something quieter, more honest, and deeply overdue.

For decades, I’d been in leadership roles that demanded presence, pressure, and performance. I navigated restructures, led large teams, and kept showing up, no matter what was swirling behind the scenes. I held space for others, even when my own energy was running on empty.

But beneath the busy schedules, a quieter question had started to surface—one I could no longer ignore:

What does it really mean to lead well?

Not just at work. Not just with others. But with yourself.

That question is what this next chapter of my life has been about—and it’s taught me more about leadership than any title ever could.

At first, the move felt exhilarating. Then terrifying. I’d walked away from a steady salary, a respected title, and a structured identity. In their place? A blank canvas. A website, a blinking cursor, and a strong sense that it was time to practise what I had spent years preaching: to live and lead in alignment with my core values.

What I didn’t expect was just how much I still had to learn—not about leading others, but about leading myself. The anxiety I’d kept mostly under wraps in my corporate life now had more room to breathe. But instead of fighting it, I started listening to it. And slowly, I began to see that everything I thought I knew about leadership needed to be turned inside out.

This is the story of what I discovered—and the nine qualities that now guide me, not just as a leader, but as a human trying to live with courage, clarity, and compassion in a world that often feels out of control.

What I thought leadership was

In the early stages of my career — leadership, to me, looked a lot like control. It meant being across everything. Calm under pressure. Efficient. Strategic. Able to hold everyone together during the tough times. I thought being a “good leader” meant being one step ahead at all times, anticipating problems before they arose and solving them quickly and cleanly.

And I wasn’t bad at it. I managed large teams, guided complex restructures, and helped people adapt through fast-paced change. On the surface, I looked steady. Inside? That familiar flutter of anxiety often simmered. I’ve always described it like this: I was the duck gliding smoothly on the water, while underneath, my legs were paddling furiously.

What kept me anchored through those years was my strong sense of integrity. Doing the right thing mattered to me—even when it was hard. I showed up, I followed through, and I supported my teams with compassion. But something was missing. Beneath the results and the reports, I had started to feel a growing disconnect between what the role demanded and what I deeply valued. And the more I ignored that gap, the louder my anxiety became.

I thought leadership was about holding it all together for others. I’ve since learned that real leadership—sustainable, meaningful leadership—starts by holding space for yourself.

The turning point

I didn’t have a single breakdown moment or dramatic walkout. It was more like a slow unraveling—a series of quiet realizations that the version of leadership I had built my career on was no longer sustainable. I could sense I was drifting away from who I truly was, and the cost of staying in that misalignment was becoming too high.

The final nudge came during a particularly tough period. I’d always prided myself on keeping my perspective, even in challenging work situations. But this time, it was just too hard. I stopped sleeping properly. My detachment dissolved.  I began to take everything to heart, ruminating endlessly, doubting myself, and absorbing the dysfunction like a sponge.

Looking back, I now understand why that moment hit so hard. It wasn’t just about a difficult phase. It was about the widening gap between the leader I was expected to be and the human I was becoming.

Leaving that environment wasn’t just a career move—it was an act of self-respect. And once I gave myself permission to step away, something surprising happened. I didn’t fall apart. I started to come back together.

The leadership qualities that actually matter

As I reflect now—years later, working independently, creating courses, writing about self-leadership and helping others navigate life transitions—I’ve realised that the leadership traits that matter most don’t show up on KPIs or in performance reviews.

They live in how you relate to yourself and others when things are uncertain. How you respond when you’re triggered. How you make decisions when there’s no perfect answer. These are the qualities I wish I’d known were just as important—if not more so—than the polished corporate playbook.

Here are the 9 I return to again and again:

1. Self-respect and values alignment

Leadership begins with showing yourself the same respect you extend to others. That means aligning your decisions with your core values—even when it’s inconvenient. For me, the value of integrity became non-negotiable. It helped me make the hard call to leave. It also guides every decision I make now. If it doesn’t align, it’s a no.

2. Equanimity and calm in chaos

The ability to remain steady in a storm isn’t about suppressing emotion—it’s about not being swept away by it. Equanimity is a muscle I had to train, especially during uncertainty. Learning to breathe, ground, and respond—rather than react—has changed everything.

3. Deep listening

Truly hearing someone—not just their words but their emotion—requires presence. In leadership, this builds trust. In life, it builds connection. Deep listening was something I practised with others often, but I’ve come to realise how essential it is to also listen to yourself—to your body, your intuition, your needs.

4. Perspective

Even in my hardest work years, I had perspective thanks to some serious personal challenges. That context helped me zoom out, see what mattered, and not get completely consumed by short-term stress. Perspective creates space—and space is where better choices live.

5. The courage to be decisive (and change your mind)

Good leaders aren’t rigid. They’re decisive and adaptable. I used to think changing your mind meant weakness. Now I see it as wisdom. The world changes. We change. So should our path.

6. Presence over performance

There’s power in simply being present. Not hustling to prove, not posturing, not performing—just showing up fully. Whether it’s leading a meeting, supporting a loved one, or writing a course, people feel when you’re with them.

7. Purposeful action over busywork

One of the best shifts I made was to focus on meaningful goals that reflect what I truly care about. That means saying no more often, working slower but deeper, and ensuring that what I do actually matters—not just to others, but to me.

8. Emotional awareness and embracing anxiety

For years, I managed my anxiety in silence. I didn’t want it to be visible. But once I stopped resisting it and started understanding it, everything shifted. Anxiety, I’ve realised, isn’t the enemy. It’s information. It tells me when I care, when something’s out of alignment, or when I need to pause. It’s also the very thing that’s driven my curiosity, my depth, and my desire to create change—for myself and others.

9. Inner work is the real work

In the end, leadership isn’t about what you know—it’s about who you are. Understanding my triggers, exploring tools like the Enneagram and journaling, being curious about the masks I wore… all of this has made me more grounded, more compassionate, and more capable.

Leading yourself is lifelong work. But it’s also the most liberating.

What I know now

These days, I don’t manage teams or corporate restructures. But I do lead—every single day. I lead myself. I lead my energy. I lead the way I show up in my writing, in my relationships, in my choices.

And in many ways, this kind of leadership is harder—but also richer.

When I work with others now, whether it’s through coaching or my courses, the focus isn’t on fixing their resume or finding the next job. It’s about helping them reconnect to their inner compass. That’s where clarity comes from. That’s where direction begins.

Final thought: The only person you’ll always lead is you

Leadership isn’t a title—it’s a practice. A daily, imperfect, intentional practice.

And the truth is, you’ll lead many people throughout your life. But the only person you’ll always lead… is you.

So lead yourself with care. With curiosity. With courage. And let everything else grow from there.