For years, I wore control like armor. It looked like leadership, felt like responsibility, and, at times, even produced results. But it wasn’t clear.
Much of my early leadership career was marked by a belief that clarity would naturally emerge if I worked harder, set the direction, and ensured every detail was accounted for. I’d lead from the front, confidently speak, and tightly grip outcomes.
And for a while, it worked—at least on paper. But underneath that surface of productivity and performance, something was quietly eroding. The toll wasn’t immediate, but it was relentless:
- Burnout.
- Bottlenecks.
- A team that looked to me for every decision.
And a version of me—Steve—who had lost sight of where he fit in as a human, not just as a title.
That’s the paradox I discovered too late:
Control isn’t clarity. It’s often the disguise we wear when we’re unsure.
The Turning Point
The change didn’t happen in a moment of triumph—it came in the middle of exhaustion.
I was knee-deep in a high-stakes transformation project. The stakes were real, the deadline was rigid, and the pressure was unrelenting. I was doing what I always did—doubling down, filling in the gaps, and pushing forward at full tilt.
And then it hit me: I was solving everything except the real problem.
I wasn’t lacking intelligence or dedication. I lacked clarity— not just for my team but also for myself. What I needed wasn’t more control. What I needed was to let go of what no longer served:
- Letting go of micromanaging
- Letting go of assumptions
- Letting go of the illusion that I had to have every answer
That wasn’t easy. Control felt safe. But it was also suffocating.
And so I began a quiet, deliberate shift.
What Real Clarity Looked Like
At first, it felt awkward. Unnatural even.
Instead of filling every silence with direction, I started asking better questions:
- What’s needed to succeed?
- Where—and why—are we misaligned?
- What’s not being said that needs to be?
These weren’t just strategic questions. They were invitations. They created space. Space for others to step in with their voice. Space for alignment to emerge organically. Space for me to reflect instead of react.
Clarity began to take root—not as something I dictated, but as something we discovered together.
From that clarity came trust—real trust, the kind that doesn’t require constant check-ins or top-down pressure. The kind that empowers people to act decisively because they understand the why, not just the what.
From Telling to Knowing
Here’s what surprised me the most:
Clarity didn’t weaken my authority. It strengthened it.
It didn’t mean I stepped away from leading. It meant I stepped into a different kind of leadership rooted in humility, trust, and shared understanding.
The more I embraced clarity, the less I needed to control. And the more I trusted my team, the more they trusted themselves. We started operating as a unit, not out of fear or obligation but from a place of alignment. We weren’t perfect, but we were in sync.
In that environment, I stepped up differently. Not in tell mode, not in rescue mode, but in clear, collaborative momentum.
That clarity didn’t just improve our performance. It made the work feel lighter. More human. More sustainable.
A Quiet Shift with Lasting Impact
In hindsight, clarity has been the most underestimated resource in my leadership toolkit.
Not the clarity from a checklist or a vision statement, but the kind that emerges when you finally stop trying to control everything long enough to listen.
- To others.
- To your team.
- To yourself.
If you’re leading today and feeling stretched, misunderstood, or uncertain, consider this:
You might not need to push harder. You might need to let go.
Because sometimes, the clearest thing we can do as leaders
—Stop trying to be the smartest person in the room, and start becoming the most willing to see, hear, and guide with intention.
Where in your leadership might clarity, not control, be the key to unlocking momentum?
I’d love to hear what this stirs in you. Let’s connect.