I’ve given them the feedback, so why isn’t anything changing?

This is a tension I’ve heard many times, and often the leader sharing it with me is equal parts frustrated and confounded.

It’s an easy moment to climb our ladder and start telling ourselves stories about our team member. They don’t care. They’re not listening. They’re not capable.

And while those things may sometimes be true, acting on those assumptions is a sure way to ensure nothing changes. When we believe someone isn’t capable or they don’t care, it often becomes a self-fulfilling prophecy. We continuously notice only behaviors that support those conclusions.

As leaders, instead of pointing the finger at our people, we want to first take stock of our own actions and approaches. It’s easy for us to feel like we’ve been incredibly clear, and that’s not always the case.

If you find yourself in this loop, here are four places I would look first (and the tool I’d apply):

1. Are we assuming understanding or actually confirming it?

I’ve found managers often think they’re on the same page with an employee after delivering their feedback, but in reality, what feels so obvious to them doesn’t translate.

At the end of the day, how effectively we’ve communicated isn’t proven by what we’ve said; it’s provided by what the other person is taking away. And it’s pretty uncommon for us to check the latter.

We assume we delivered the message (which makes perfect sense to us), so the person on the receiving end should be on the same page.

The Tool to Use: Mirroring

Instead of assuming alignment, ask them to mirror back what you’ve said. Or share their understanding of next steps.

• What’s your takeaway from this conversation?

• What are you planning to do differently moving forward?

• Can you walk me through how you’re thinking about this?

When someone mirrors what we’ve said back, we get real information. It is the most true assessment of whether we’re actually aligned and our communication style is working.

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2. How clear were we, really?

Ambiguity is the enemy of accountability. How clear were your expectations?

It’s easy to say things like "be more proactive" or "communicate better," and to us, that feels straightforward. But there is a lot to interpret there. Those directions leave miles of space for the other person to define success in a way that may not match what you had in mind.

So, when we go back later and feel like progress hasn’t been made, it becomes frustrating on both sides. We feel like we’ve been clear, and they feel like they’ve been trying.

The Tool to Use: Committed Action Language

What precisely needs to happen? By when?

The more concrete the expectation, the easier it becomes to follow through. Your teammate knows exactly what to do, and you know exactly when to follow up if something hasn’t happened.

No more waffling or wasting time/energy wondering if they’re working on it.

If you asked them for a weekly project update by EOD Wednesday, then you know you can follow up first thing Thursday morning if you haven’t seen anything. (If you just asked them to “be more communicative,” we’re living in a perpetual grey area.)

3. Have we actually communicated the impact?

It’s also common for us to be really frustrated by a situation, but when we go to deliver feedback, we default to keeping things light and acting like it isn’t too big a deal.

Now, I’m certainly not a proponent of jumping into a feedback conversation heated. But it’s a disservice to our people to downplay importance.

If we act like something is minor, we shouldn’t be surprised when it’s treated as such.

The Tool to Use: S.O.S. Feedback

Instead of bringing emotion into a conversation, I recommend focusing on clearly articulating the situation's impact.

Instead of: Can you just make sure this gets done earlier?

We can say: When this comes in late, I feel a lot of stress because I have to shift all my priorities around to pull everything together. And, in turn, it affects how prepared we are as a team.

We don’t need to bring stress into the conversation, but it’s incredibly helpful to share that you feel stress in those moments. That level of context humanizes the request and lends it the appropriate weight.

People are much more likely to change their behavior when they understand the real consequences of not doing something, rather than just the instruction itself.

4. What’s actually getting in the way?

If you’ve confirmed understanding, set a clear expectation, communicated the impact, and you’re still not seeing change, then we are likely no longer dealing with a communication issue.

There’s something else that’s blocking execution. And this is where it’s so easy to double down on making assumptions, when what’s actually needed is curiosity.

The Tool to Use: Perspective Taking

Instead of repeating the same directive, we can shift toward trying to understand what we don’t see.

• We’ve talked about this a few times, and I’m not seeing the shift yet. What’s getting in the way?

• What feels challenging about this for you?

• What do you need support with to follow through?

• If you were in my position, how would you handle this?

These questions do two things. Firstly, they help us uncover context we may not have. And secondly, they invite the other person into the problem-solving process, rather than keeping them in a passive role where they’re just being told what to do.

This requires a level of humility, because it means being willing to admit there may be something you don’t fully understand yet.

And sometimes there is. And sometimes there isn’t.

But regardless, you’re now working toward a solution together instead of continuing the same unproductive conversation.

The Shift

When nothing changes, it’s very easy to conclude that the other person is the problem. And again, sometimes that might be where you ultimately arrive.

But Elevaters take a moment and ask a different set of questions.

1. Have I actually ensured they understood what I was asking?

2. Was I as clear as I think I was?

3. Did I make the impact of this visible?

4. Have I gotten curious about what might be in the way?

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Where this came from

Last week, I was in a Q&A session with a group of executives, and one of the questions that came up was:

“How do we actually work effectively with another department to solve a problem? We’re just not getting through to each other.”

In this case, she was specifically talking about working with finance. They were trying to move a project forward, and it felt like they were stuck, and not making real progress.

And as I was listening, I found myself thinking about our coaching toolkit.

Because on the surface, coaching might not feel like the most obvious answer to a question about cross-functional collaboration.

But in practice, it’s one of the most effective approaches we have.

Coaching (and how we usually think about it)

When we talk about coaching in the context of business, it’s natural to envision a one-on-one conversation.

A manager sitting across from their direct report. A moment in time that has been specifically carved out for development.

It’s probably not particularly shocking to hear that I am indeed a fan of the above.

And, when we understand the principles of coaching, we don’t need to limit ourselves to only the most obvious application. (For anyone looking for a deeper understanding of how we define coaching, you can check out this week’s edition of The Practice Plan.)

Coaching offers us the skills, mindset, and frameworks for having different types of conversations. And I’d like to argue that coaching can be an incredibly effective approach in larger group or cross-functional settings.

Why cross-functional work gets hard

These collaborative settings are ripe for a coaching approach.

You have multiple teams, multiple perspectives, different priorities, and different constraints, all coming together to try and move something forward. Often, folks walk into those conversations (consciously or otherwise) with the intent to sell their point of view.

When each person comes into the room saddled with their institutional knowledge and a plan they feel conviction about, it can make collaboration difficult—even if the intent is good all around.

We need to remember that the beauty of collaboration is that no single person or team has the full picture.

And when we come in trying to dictate direction, we’re inviting resistance.

Enter the coaching approach

At its core, coaching isn’t about having the answer.

It’s about asking questions and providing a structure that helps whoever you’re supporting (in this case, a group) reach alignment and determine next steps.

If we strip most coaching frameworks down, they’re usually trying to move through a few core things.

1. We’re getting clear on the ideal outcome. What are we actually trying to achieve here?

2. We’re painting a picture of the current situation. What’s happening right now? What do we know to be true?

3. We’re exploring options. What directions could we take?

4. We’re committing to initial steps. What are we doing and by when?

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What changes in a group setting

In a one-on-one setting, that might look like a manager guiding a direct report through those questions.

But in a cross-functional or team setting, something powerful happens when those questions are opened up to the entire group.

Everyone’s voice is heard. The group owns the answers.

By working collaboratively through those questions (versus everyone fighting to share their “fully formed” plan) there’s more alignment and more genuine collaboration.

We still get to a decision because there’s structure.

But you’re doing it in a way that allows the reality to be more complete before the team decides what to do. Everyone gets to weigh all the data.

Why this works

When we feel like we’re simply being told what to do—or we feel like someone doesn’t understand our point of view—it’s incredibly easy to disengage or push back.

But when there is a clear structure that invites contribution, it creates a different level of ownership.

Coaching in a group setting leads to healthier conflict.

And no conflict in terms of finger-pointing or personal attacks. Conflict in the form of good debate and the wrestling of ideas.

A simple shift

So, consider your week ahead. If you’re leading a cross-functional or group conversation, instead of bringing the “best answers,” try facilitating with questions and structure.

1. Get clear on what success looks like

2. Build a shared understanding of the current reality

3. Explore a full range of options

4. Then commit to a way forward

The goal isn’t for one team to be right. The goal is for the best idea to rise to the top.

Want to learn more about coaching? Check out the latest edition of The Practice Plan.

We get promoted to management because we’re highly capable. At some point, people began to see you as someone they could count on to get things done. You understood the work and solved problems quickly. And very likely, you once did the job your direct reports are doing now, which means you know exactly how you would handle things in their position.

This is why managers often have strong instincts and opinions.

So when someone on your team is struggling and the path feels obvious to you, the natural impulse is to help. To jump in and nudge them in the right direction.

From the inside, this feels like great leadership. We’re supporting our team and making sure they win. But there is a shadow side to that instinct.

Sometimes the thing that feels like helping is the thing that quietly holds your team back.

When Helping Becomes Hurting

When we jump in, become the superhero, and fix the issue, there is an unintended message embedded in that pattern.

Even if you never say it out loud, your actions begin to communicate that your team isn’t capable of solving things on its own.

And even if we don’t consciously believe that, behavior, especially when it becomes a pattern, speaks louder than intention.

When the solution consistently comes from you, people eventually learn that the safest and easiest move is to wait for the hero to arrive.

Gradually, people stop building the muscle required to work through problems independently because they don’t actually need to. They know that if things get messy or unclear, someone else will step in and clean it up.

This doesn’t happen because people lack capability. Most of the time, the capability is there. What’s missing is the opportunity to develop it.

So the manager stays busy solving problems while the team remains dependent on that person. From the outside, it can even look like strong leadership. The manager is deeply involved, the team relies on them, and work keeps moving.

But growth is quietly stalling.

Hold Space. Ask Questions.

So how do we adjust?

If the instinct to jump in and solve is the trap, the alternative is learning to create space for your team to think their way through the work.

One of the most powerful shifts a manager can make is to ask, not tell.

What options are you considering?
What could you try first?
What could we change for next time?
What do we want to make sure to repeat?

This will feel slower, and sometimes the solutions they propose won’t be exactly what you would have done. But their confidence will grow, their capability will strengthen, and their sense of ownership will increase.

Sometimes They Fail. That’s Ok.

Holding back is relatively easy when you believe your team will figure it out. It’s much harder when you can see the train coming.

When you know the presentation is not quite right. When you can sense that the client conversation may go sideways. When you are fairly certain that if they continue down this path, the outcome will not be ideal.

This is the moment when many managers instinctively jump in. We’re wired to avoid mistakes. The trouble is that the moments most ripe for growth and learning often come when things don’t perfectly go to plan.

Sometimes, as a manager, our job isn’t to prevent mistakes. It’s to make sure our people are learning and growing from them.

When to Step in Vs. When to Step Back

And, stepping back doesn’t mean abandoning your team. There are absolutely moments when stepping in is the right move.

It is reasonable to step in when there is an obstacle that your team member genuinely cannot remove themselves. Sometimes, access, authority, or context sits at the manager level.

It can also make sense when someone is early in the learning curve. That hands-on guidance can be necessary when people are building a foundation.

And occasionally, the stakes are simply too high for the learning opportunity to justify the risk.

But there are more moments than we often realize when it is worth pausing before you jump in.

If the person is capable, but it would simply be faster for you to do it yourself, pause.

If you notice you are getting involved out of habit because you are used to being in the weeds, reflect.

Ask yourself: Am I helping them grow, or am I jumping in to manage my own stress?

How Elevaters Are Different

When we take on the role of an Elevater (and not simply a manager), our call to action shifts.

Our job is no longer to get our teams across the finish line, our job is to grow our people. That’s a much harder ask. It takes longer. It’s more uncomfortable.

It requires trust (in yourself and your team). It requires patience and the ability to let people stumble.

But we end up elevating the people around us. And we create a more confident, accomplished team as a result.

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I was with a participant yesterday, helping her to develop her PDP (Personal Development Practice), when she paused mid-sentence and said, almost half-laughing, “Oh… that’s going to be really uncomfortable.”

And I laughed along with her.

Awesome.

That means we’re on the right track.

In the second half of the Elevate program, everyone defines a PDP. It’s deceptively simple: identify an old habit — a reflexive way of showing up that isn’t fully serving you or the people around you — and pair it with a new habit, a more intentional way you want to respond instead.

The old habit is usually something that once made sense. It likely helped you succeed at some point. It might even still “work” in certain contexts. But under stress, under pressure, in the moments that matter most, it can create friction.

The new habit, on the other hand, almost always feels unnatural at first. Slower. More exposed. More effortful.

Which is why her comment didn’t concern me.

It encouraged me.

Because if behavior change feels seamless, we’re probably not actually changing anything.

What Shows Up Under Pressure

Most of our default patterns show up when we’re under stress. When deadlines tighten. When a stakeholder pushes back. When a teammate misses the mark. That’s when our backhand appears — the instinctive move we reach for without thinking.

Some of us shut down.
Some of us get sharp.
Some of us take over.
Some of us avoid.

We rarely choose those reactions consciously. They’re conditioned. Practiced. Rehearsed over years.

So when someone decides, “Instead of withdrawing, I’m going to speak up,” or “Instead of jumping in with the answer, I’m going to ask a question,” or “Instead of controlling the outcome, I’m going to delegate and tolerate the discomfort,” it should feel uncomfortable.

You’re interrupting muscle memory.

“What Are They Going to Think?”

What I loved about this conversation yesterday was that her discomfort wasn’t about capability. It was about perception.

“What are they going to think?” she asked. “If I start doing this differently?”

That question comes up all the time.

We assume people will be confused. Or skeptical. Or quietly judging.

But here’s the beautiful thing about PDPs: we don’t do them in secret.

We share them.

When you tell your team, “Here’s the habit I’m working on,” you remove the guesswork. When you behave differently, it’s not random — it’s intentional. And instead of people wondering what’s going on, they understand the context.

Even better, they can support you.

This week, I heard from someone who said her manager checks in on her PDP in their weekly 1:1. Not in a performative way. Not as a scorecard. Just enough to keep it front of mind. That small act changes everything. Growth doesn’t drift to the bottom of the to-do list. It stays alive in conversation.

In another team practice, someone flagged for a colleague, “This is usually the point in the year where stress ramps up for you. This might be the moment your old habit wants to kick in.”

And they weren’t wasn’t defensive. They were appreciative.

That’s the unlock.

Don’t Do Growth Alone

Trying to rewire behavior in a vacuum is incredibly hard. Trying to show up differently in the exact moments your nervous system is lit up? Even harder.

But when the people around you know what you’re working on, they can help you notice the moment. They can hold the mirror steady. They can remind you of who you’re trying to become.

And that’s what makes change stick.

Leadership development can sometimes feel tactical — frameworks, meeting structures, question prompts. And those tools matter. They create shared language and clarity.

And the deeper work — the work that actually transforms us — lives here. In the uncomfortable space where someone says, “This is going to be hard for me,” and chooses to do it anyway.

Embodying a growth mindset isn’t just a belief that we can improve. It’s the willingness to tolerate the awkward, effortful middle. The stretch. The friction. The temporary dip in fluency.

It’s choosing discomfort now because you believe the future version of you will operate more effectively, more intentionally, and more generously as a result.

In Practice

So I’ll leave you with this:

• When you are under stress and pressure, what is your instinctive move? What’s your backhand?

• And if you were to define a new habit — one that feels slightly unnatural but ultimately more aligned with the leader you want to be — what would it be?

• And who could you tell, so you don’t have to practice it alone?

Because if it feels uncomfortable, that doesn’t mean you’re doing it wrong.

It might just mean you’re growing.

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When someone on your team is struggling to perform, the most common instinct is to zoom in on them.

What are they doing wrong?
Why aren’t they more motivated?
Why can’t they just figure it out?

When outcomes matter, when timelines are real, when the work affects other people, it’s stressful to watch someone fall short of what’s needed.

But great leadership starts somewhere else.

It starts with ownership.

When someone on your team is struggling, the first question isn’t, “What’s wrong with them?”
It’s: “What do I need to do differently to give them what they need to succeed?”

That doesn’t mean people don’t have responsibility. They do.
And it doesn’t mean every performance issue is solved by better leadership.

But before you point the finger, before you get frustrated, before you decide this is a “them problem,” there’s a more useful move:

Audit your leadership first.

Here are four big buckets worth looking at when someone on your team is struggling.

Not as a checklist to interrogate them—but as a way to pressure-test your side of the equation first.

1. The Learning Curve & The Support They Actually Need

The first thing I want to understand is: where are they on the learning curve?

• Do they actually know how to do this yet?

• Or am I expecting performance before mastery?

Sometimes what looks like underperformance is just someone still learning.

Some people need more hands-on direction in the beginning.
Some people need coaching and problem-solving.
Some people need clear structure before they can confidently improvise.

Different stages require different leadership.

And this is where a lot of leaders get tripped up: we all have a default leadership style. Some of us are more hands-on. Some of us are more hands-off. Some of us jump straight to problem-solving. Some of us default to giving space.

The mistake is assuming our default style is what everyone needs, all the time.

A more useful set of questions sounds like:

• What kind of support would actually help this person succeed right now?

• What have I tried so far?

• What’s their learning style?

• Do they need more direction?

• Do they need more coaching or encouragement?

• Do they need clearer structure, or more ad hoc support?

• Am I giving them what they need, or what I would need in their position?

I’ve written before about strategies that can make it easier for our people to tell us what they need. If we employ them, it keeps us from needing to be mind readers. The better we get at matching your leadership to where someone actually is, the fewer “performance problems” we end up having in the first place.

2. What They Actually Care About (And What Motivates Them)

The next bucket is motivation and values.

Do I actually understand what’s important to this person?

This is one of the most common disconnects I see. Many leaders are highly self-motivated. They care about growth, impact, winning, building, pushing. And when someone on their team isn’t motivated in the same way, it can feel confusing and frustrating.

So we start asking: Why don’t they care as much as I do?
When a better question is: What do they care about?

Is it:

• Stability?

• Recognition?

• Mastery?

• Autonomy?

• Time?

• Competition?

• Belonging?

None of these are wrong. But they are different languages.

If you’re trying to get buy-in and commitment from someone, it helps to speak in terms that actually resonate with them—not just in terms that motivate you.

Useful questions here are:

• What does this person value most right now?

• What are they trying to protect or grow?

• What do they optimize for when they make decisions?

• Am I framing goals and expectations in a way that connects to their drivers—or just mine?

Clarity about motivation doesn’t guarantee performance. But misunderstanding it almost guarantees friction.

3. Clarity, Expectations, and Real Feedback

The third bucket is communication.

Have I actually been clear about expectations?

Not just “I think I said it once,” but:

• Could they clearly tell you what success looks like?

• Could they tell you what matters most right now?

• Could they tell you where they’re falling short?

• Could they tell you what “good” looks like versus “great”?

A good litmus test for clarity is this: can the other person accurately mirror it back to you?

If not, there’s probably a clarity gap somewhere.

This is also where feedback comes in—and this is hard for a lot of people.

The kindest thing you can do is be clear.

Not cruel. Not harsh. Just clear.

When we avoid being direct, we often think we’re being nice. But what we’re really doing is leaving people guessing. The fairest thing you can do is let someone know where they stand and what, specifically, they can do to improve.

So I ask myself:

• Have I named the gap directly?

• Have I given feedback that’s specific and usable?

• Or am I hoping they’ll just “pick up the signal”?

If you haven’t named it, you can’t be surprised it isn’t changing.

4. The Stories You’re Telling Yourself

The last bucket is the quietest—and sometimes the most dangerous.

What assumptions am I making about their intent or effort?

It is incredibly easy to start telling ourselves stories about people:

• They don’t care.

• They’re lazy.

• They’re not cut out for this.

• They’re not trying.

Once we start telling those stories, they shape what we notice. They shape how we show up. And over time, they can limit what we’re even able to see in someone.

A few honest questions here:

• What story am I telling myself about why this is happening?

• What evidence do I actually have?

• What might I not know about their context, capacity, or constraints?

• If I went into this conversation assuming positive intent, what would change?

If you want productive performance conversations, you have to be able to see people clearly—including their strengths, their capabilities, and the tools they already have in their toolkit.

Because if you’re telling yourself a narrow story about someone, that’s usually the version of them you’ll keep getting.

Here’s the throughline I keep coming back to:

When someone on your team is struggling, that struggle is a signal. And the first responsibility for interpreting that signal belongs to you.

Owning that doesn’t make you weaker as a leader. It makes you more effective.

Because the moment you shift from blame to responsibility, you move from frustration to influence.

And influence is the only thing that actually changes outcomes.

That’s where better leadership—and better results—actually start.

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On Tuesday, I wrote about reducing my screen time from over six hours a day to just one. It began as a productivity experiment. I wanted to see what would happen if I removed the reflexive phone use—the unconscious scrolling and constant checking that had quietly become background noise in my day. I assumed I’d gain focus and time.

What I didn’t anticipate was that the most meaningful shift wouldn’t be efficiency.

It would be mindfulness.

That theme continued to surface throughout the week. In 1:1 check-ins and in team practices, people described moments where they caught themselves in real time. Someone noticed their energy spike in a meeting. Someone else realized they were reacting instead of responding. One participant shared, “I feel this frantic energy, but I’m not exactly sure how to address it, and I don’t want it impacting my team.”

Of course, we talked about tools or strategies, but I also thought it was really important to acknowledge that noticing is a win in and of itself.

So many of us move through our days like fish in water. We don’t question the environment because it feels constant. Frantic becomes normal. Distraction becomes baseline. We don’t notice or question the low-level tension we’re operating with.

Mindfulness vs. Mindlessness

When people hear “mindfulness,” they often think meditation. I personally love meditation, and I think it can be really transformative. But after nearly a decade of teaching and practicing this work, I’ve come to see that mindfulness doesn’t have to look like a formal practice.

There isn’t one right format.

For me, mindfulness is simply the opposite of mindlessness. Mindlessness is when we are physically doing one thing while mentally doing several others. We brush our teeth while mentally running through the day. We eat lunch while responding to emails. We walk while layering in podcasts, messages, and planning for what’s next.

Planning and reflecting are useful. The issue isn’t thinking ahead; it’s the lack of intention. We default to being out of the moment without choosing it.

That was the core realization behind my screen time shift. I wasn’t consciously deciding to pick up my phone most of the time. It was reflexive. Automatic. Unexamined. That pattern wasn’t just about time lost—it was about awareness lost.

When I interrupted that reflex, I didn’t just gain hours. I gained space. Mental space. Emotional space. The ability to notice what was actually happening internally instead of constantly buffering it with input.

The Power of Noticing

What I’ve seen repeatedly this week is that noticing is often the hardest part—and the most important part.

When you pause long enough to ask, “How am I actually feeling right now?” you interrupt autopilot. You create a moment of choice. You may not immediately solve the tension or anxiety, but you are no longer unconsciously operating inside it.

That’s where agency begins.

Without noticing, we normalize everything. With noticing, we regain authorship.

Making Mindfulness Practical

One of the reasons I like defining mindfulness as “noticing” or “presence” is that it makes it incredibly accessible. It removes the pressure to overhaul your routine or adopt something intensive.

You can practice mindfulness inside the life you already have.

Pick one activity you do every day—brushing your teeth, eating lunch, walking the dog, driving to work—and choose to do it with intention.

Mindless brushing looks like mentally drafting emails while your body goes through the motions. Mindful brushing means paying attention to the sensation, being physically present for those two minutes.

Mindless eating looks like working through your lunch at your desk, barely tasting it. Mindful eating might mean sitting at a table without your laptop and actually noticing what you’re consuming.

Mindless walking often includes layering in constant stimulation. Mindful walking could mean removing those inputs and simply noticing your feet hitting the ground.

This is not about being mindful all the time. That’s unrealistic and unnecessary. It’s about building the muscle by interrupting mindlessness.

Just once is enough to start.

Why This Matters Now

We live in a time when speed is rewarded and constant input is normalized.

Technology makes it easy to stay perpetually stimulated and perpetually distracted.

Entire days can pass in reaction mode—moving from one task, message, or conversation to the next without ever checking in internally.

Mindfulness, in its most grounded form, is the ability to return to the present moment and recognize your internal state. It often requires slowing down, which can feel uncomfortable precisely because we’re so accustomed to operating at a steady hum of activity.

But that discomfort is instructive. It reveals how rarely we sit with ourselves without distraction.

Reducing my screen time wasn’t powerful because it optimized productivity. It was powerful because it broke a reflex and forced awareness. It shifted me from reacting to choosing.

In a culture that keeps accelerating, the ability to notice your energy, your emotions, and your patterns is not optional. It’s foundational. It’s what allows you to respond intentionally instead of being carried by default.

In Practice This Week

Instead of adding something new, choose one small moment to do differently. Pick one daily activity and do it without layering in additional input. Or pause once a day and ask yourself, without judgment, “How am I actually feeling right now?”

You don’t have to fix the answer.

Just notice.

That’s where change begins.

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Most of us are far more problem-oriented than we realize.

It’s second nature to focus on what isn’t working—what we don’t want, what we want to get away from, what’s frustrating us. And when we’re oriented this way for long enough, it creates a steady undercurrent of stress, anxiety, or irritation.

That stress doesn’t just live in our heads. Our bodies want it gone.

So when we’re in problem mode, our reactions are usually less about solving the problem and more about relieving the discomfort. We become reactive. We default to whatever version of fight, flight, or freeze is most natural for us.

Here’s a concrete example.

Let’s say there’s someone on your team who isn’t performing at the level you expect. You notice everything they’re not doing. They’re not listening. They’re not improving. They’re not carrying their weight. And the more you focus on that, the more stressed you feel.

From there, different people react differently:

• Some avoid the issue entirely and just take on the extra work themselves.

• Some get short, passive-aggressive, or visibly annoyed.

• Some complain to their closest work confidant.

• Others confront the person in a way that’s more reactive than productive.

These reactions are the fastest way your nervous system knows how to relieve or avoid the stress.

What’s most important to notice is this: while these behaviors may reduce discomfort in the short term, they often move us further away from what we actually want.

In the example above, if you pause and ask a different question—What do I actually want here?—the answer is usually something like:

• I want to trust this person to follow through.

• I want a working relationship where the workload feels fair.

• I want us to be effective together.

Now look at the reactive response of “I’ll just do it myself.”

It may be the quickest way to make the immediate problem go away, but it doesn’t get you closer to trust, fairness, or an effective working relationship. Over time, it actually creates resentment, reinforces the same dynamic, and guarantees you’ll be dealing with the same stress again.

This is where anchoring your decisions in what you want to create changes everything.

When you orient around the outcome you want—rather than the problem you want to escape—you start making different choices. Choices that often require holding more tension in the short term, but lead somewhere better in the long term.

If what you want is a fair workload and a stronger working relationship, the next step might be:

• Offering clear feedback

• Having a candid conversation about impact

• Identifying learning gaps and creating a plan to close them

None of those are quick fixes. They don’t instantly remove the discomfort. But they move you closer to the outcome you actually care about—and prevent the same issue from resurfacing over and over again.

This pattern shows up everywhere. We react to stress in ways that help us cope, but quietly sabotage the thing we want most.

Putting this into practice

Think about a recurring stress or complaint in your life right now.

• How do you typically react to it?

• Do you default to a fight, flight, or freeze response to cope with the discomfort?

• If you painted a clear, affirmative picture of what you actually want in that situation—big picture, ideal scenario—what would it be?

And how might anchoring your actions in that outcome change how you show up?

I wanted to cover this dynamic in today’s Substack because it was a tool I personally relied on this week. I caught myself stuck in a problem-oriented loop for over a week—frustrated with how someone was showing up, low on empathy, spinning my wheels.

When I finally paused and asked myself a more honest question—not How do I want this person to change? but How do I want to be? What actually matters to me here? What do I want to create? —everything shifted.

My initial frustration was a good data point. It was pointing me toward what I value. But once I re-anchored in what I wanted to create, the situation stopped feeling like a burden and started feeling like an opportunity.

I could show up with more clarity, more empathy, and far more alignment with who I want to be—without carrying unnecessary stress.

We never outgrow these tools.

We’re human. We will get frustrated. We will slip into problem mode. The work is noticing when it’s happening—and learning how to flip the script.

This time it took me a week. Sometimes I’m caught in the problem mode for months before I recognize what’s happening. Often, it’s only a few minutes.

Remember, all of this is a practice. But each time I apply the tool, I feel lighter and more fully myself.

When we anchor our decisions in what we want to create, life doesn’t just get easier. It gets more energizing.

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I begin every team practice with two simple questions:

What’s up? And what’s down?

We’ve been doing this for a long time, and on the surface, it’s almost deceptively simple. But the more teams I work with, the more I’m convinced this small ritual does an enormous amount of work when it comes to trust, safety, and how people show up together.

Here’s why.

First, it teaches me a lot about people.

Without forcing anyone to share more than they want to. “What’s up” and “what’s down” can be about work or life or something in between. It might be a deadline, a win, a birthday, a promotion, a stressful week, or something that’s just lingering in the background. Over time, you naturally learn how people operate, what energizes them, what weighs on them, and what season they’re in. Personally, I find this especially helpful because I’m often only engaging with my participants once a week.

Second, it gives me a pulse check.

Before we dive into content, tools, or discussion, I get a real sense of where the room actually is mentally and emotionally. Are people stretched thin? Celebratory? Distracted? Processing something bigger than work? That information matters. It helps me lead more thoughtfully and adjust how we move through the conversation.

Third, it helps people arrive.

We all come into meetings carrying a million things. By simply naming what’s up or what’s down, people often get to set something down — at least temporarily. Instead of sitting in the meeting ruminating on whatever is pulling their attention, they’ve acknowledged it. And that small act can make it easier to be present.

Over time, though, the most profound impact is that this practice builds trust.

When people are given consistent space to be human — to name the things driving their emotions, whether good or hard — it creates safety. It signals that you don’t need to show up perfectly regulated or buttoned up to belong here. You just need to show up honestly.

It also humanizes leadership.

I’m not exempt from the check-in. I share my own ups and downs — the mundane, the joyful, the frustrating. My nephew crawling for the first time. Laundry I need to fold. That matters. When leaders model humanity, it lowers the bar for everyone else.

I wanted to call attention to this practice today because the impact stood out this week.

There was a lot happening in the world over the weekend. It was heavy for some people. During our check-ins, a few folks named that it was still sitting with them — that they were processing, that it felt like a lot. It wasn’t dwelled on. It wasn’t debated. It didn’t need to be fixed.

It was simply acknowledged.

Later, someone specifically called out how helpful that was — not because it solved anything, but because it created space to say, “This is where I’m at right now.”

And that’s the point.

The check-in isn’t about agreement.
It’s not about politics.
It’s not about having the right answer.

It’s about creating a container where people can name their internal state without judgment — and where the group can hold that information with care.

Ninety-five percent of the time, check-ins are light and easy. They build familiarity and intimacy. But at some point, everyone is deeply affected by something.

This practice gives teams a way to acknowledge that without forcing alignment or silence. That five percent of the time, the check-in becomes a way to show that we care about how our teammates are actually doing.

When we talk about building trust — especially on remote teams — we often assume it requires something big or elaborate. In reality, it’s usually the small, consistent practices that do the most work.

“What’s up and what’s down” is one of those practices.

It builds safety.
It builds awareness.
It builds trust — quietly, over time.

And in moments when there’s a lot going on, sometimes that’s exactly what teams need: a simple way to be human together.

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Something that’s come up repeatedly over the past few weeks in coaching sessions is just how powerful it can be to slow down and examine our thinking.

There are a lot of meaningful outcomes that come from coaching, but one of the simplest—and often most underrated—is objectivity. Having someone outside the situation who can hold up a mirror and help you see things just a little more clearly.

When we’re inside a situation, it’s incredibly easy to get caught in our own narrative. And often, that narrative is built on assumptions we don’t even realize we’re making. We think we understand what’s happening. We think we know why someone acted a certain way. We think we’re responding to facts.

A coach—or any neutral third party—can often spot assumptions much faster than we can ourselves. Not because they’re smarter or more insightful, but because they’re less emotionally invested. They have less context, and paradoxically, that can make things easier to see.

Learning to recognize our own assumptions is a critical skill. It’s one we practice a lot in the Elevate Program, and it’s one that shows up most clearly when strong emotions are involved—frustration, disappointment, excitement, anticipation. The feeling itself is real. The question is whether the story underneath it is.

When Emotion Is Real, but the Story Might Not Be

In the program, we spend a lot of time helping people build the skill of giving feedback when they know the facts. Something happened. There was an impact. And they want to articulate that impact clearly and productively.

But there’s another category of moments that deserves just as much attention.

There are times when we feel the exact same intensity of emotion—but that emotion isn’t rooted in confirmed facts. It’s rooted in a story we’ve told ourselves about what’s happening.

In those moments, we often think we have all the information. But in reality, we may have climbed our own ladder of inference. We noticed something. We made an assumption. We drew a conclusion. And then we reacted emotionally to that conclusion.

The emotion makes sense—but only if the story is true.

One of the most valuable muscles we build is learning to pause long enough to ask a very simple question: Do I actually know this for sure?

Over the past few weeks, this has come up repeatedly in one-on-one coaching sessions. In many cases, the most useful tool wasn’t feedback—it was perspective taking. A check-in. A moment of curiosity. Sometimes just asking, “What am I assuming here?” was enough to shift how someone saw the situation entirely.

Three Places We Most Commonly Tell Ourselves Stories

While this can show up anywhere, there are a few patterns I see again and again.

1. Other people’s thoughts and feelings

We are incredibly quick to assume we know how someone else is feeling or what they’re thinking.

“If I were them, I’d feel X.”
“They must be frustrated.”
“They probably took that personally.”

It often feels intuitive—sometimes even empathetic—but it’s still an assumption. And we may find ourselves changing our behavior, protecting someone, or bracing for conflict without ever confirming whether our read is accurate.

2. Other people’s motivations

We also tell ourselves stories about why someone did what they did.

“They made that decision because they don’t care.”
“They’re prioritizing something else.”
“They did this intentionally.”

The behavior may be real. The motivation is usually a guess. And motivations are incredibly hard to know without actually asking.

3. Missing context and unseen factors

Another common story is believing we understand all the variables at play.

“They made this decision on their own.”
“There was no reason this had to happen this way.”

In reality, there are often constraints, conversations, pressures, or data points we simply don’t have access to. Complexity doesn’t always announce itself. Being willing to say, “Maybe there’s something I don’t know,” can change everything.

The Question That Changes the Outcome

This work isn’t about suppressing emotion or invalidating your reaction. The emotion is real. The impact may be real.

The practice is about strengthening one specific habit:

Is what I’m feeling rooted in something I know to be true—or is there a chance I’m responding to a story I’ve told myself?

If it’s rooted in confirmed facts, you can move forward with clarity and intention.

If there’s even a possibility it’s a story, that’s your cue to get curious.

You don’t have to read minds.
You don’t have to guess.
You can ask.

You can check in. You can ask for perspective. You can invite someone to fill in the blanks. And once you have the facts, you get to decide what you want to do next.

What I see over and over again is that when people approach these conversations with genuine curiosity—not accusation—others are usually receptive. More often than not, the conversation brings relief, clarity, and a much more thoughtful path forward.

Recognizing when we’re telling ourselves a story isn’t about being less emotional.
It’s about being more intentional.

And that’s a muscle worth building.

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What we’ve been up to at Cohd recently––

A note on truly prioritizing for the new year–– 

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It probably comes as no surprise that I deeply enjoy the beginning of a new year. I love the natural benchmark and invitation to look forward to what we want to create. I love setting new goals, and the permission the new year gives us to change our approach.

I personally don’t have a tried-and-true method for this type of annual planning. I’ve typically viewed the exercise as an opportunity to bridge the macro and the micro. What do I want to create, and how am I going to get it done?

But over the past few weeks, as I’ve been ruminating on 2026, I had a few important ahas I wanted to share.

Let’s start here:
A list of goals is not the same thing as a framework for how you want to live.

The Stacking Problem

When I look back at how I’ve approached annual planning in the past, it’s been very easy to slip into accumulation mode.

More goals.
More intentions.
More things I want to accomplish.

And again— none of that is inherently bad. But over time, it creates a stacking effect. The list gets longer. The pressure increases. And instead of feeling like I’m choosing a direction, I start to feel like I’m trying to carry everything at once.

I’m really good at trying to fit in more, and I’m realizing (at least for me) that that’s not really the right answer.

Clarity and direction aren’t just about identifying what’s important to us, but it’s also about identifying what doesn’t fit.

Choosing The Few That Matter Most

Let’s start with the first half of that sentiment. We need to identify what’s important to us. And remember, if everything is important, nothing is important. In past years, I’ve gone down the rabbit hole of creating goals for every single part of my life. Not this year.

One shift that’s been especially helpful for me is forcing myself to answer a much harder question:

What are my biggest priorities of the year?

Not ten. Not everything that sounds appealing.
But three.

Where are the three places that, if I put my energy, attention, and discipline, I would feel proud of where I landed by the end of the year?

This question immediately changes the nature of goal-setting. It moves us away from “what do I want to do?” and toward “what is my priority?”

Maybe it’s:

• Health & well-being

• Finances

• Career

• Spirituality & inner life

• Family

• Partnerships

• Community & socializing

• Home & environment

• Creativity & expression

• Fun, joy & adventure

• Learning & growth

• Identity & self-definition

• Rest & recovery

• Structure & stability

Which three stand out to you?

Naming What Doesn’t Fit (For Now)

Once we identify our priorities, there’s an uncomfortable but necessary follow-up:

What doesn’t fit in this season of my life?

This doesn’t mean those things aren’t valuable.
It doesn’t mean you don’t care about them. It’s not even to say that you won’t make progress in those areas in some capacity. But, in the hierarchy of importance for you right now, they’re receding into the background.

Not asking myself this question is where I’ve struggled in the past. I try to make progress everywhere, and it actually leads to more stress and a lack of clarity.

This year it’s been invaluable for me to explicitly call out the things that aren’t getting as much of my time, energy, and resources this year.

This could look like:

• If health and saving money are major priorities, frequent travel may not make sense. It disrupts routines and adds expense.

• If career and travel are front-and-center, maybe this isn’t the year invest a ton of time or energy in updating your home.

• If family and inner life are your focus, maybe career acceleration or weekends packed with social plans don’t fit as well.

The goal here isn’t deprivation — it’s alignment.

There is something powerful about consciously naming the things you may love, enjoy, or want later but choose not to prioritize right now. It reduces internal friction and helps us stop negotiating with ourselves every time an opportunity arises.

From Priorities to Decisions

The final — and most practical — piece of this framework is learning to use priorities as a decision-making tool.

It’s one thing to say, “Health is important to me this year.”
It’s another to regularly ask:

• Is this choice supporting my health?

• Is this commitment aligned with my financial goals?

• Does this actually serve the community I’m trying to build?

• Is this decision pulling me closer to, or further from, what I said matters most?

When priorities become questions we return to — not just statements we write down — they start to shape both big decisions and small ones.

They become guardrails.

And over time, those small, aligned decisions add up to something much more meaningful than a completed checklist.

A Different Way Forward

For me, this shift has moved goal-setting from a performance exercise to a values-driven one.

Instead of asking, “What do I want to accomplish this year?”
I’m asking, “What kind of life am I building — and what needs to wait so I can build it well?”

That question feels steadier.
More honest.
And far more sustainable.

If you’re reflecting right now, my invitation is simple:
Don’t just name what matters.
Name what doesn’t fit — and then practice choosing accordingly.

Looking to reflect more deeply on 2025? Check out our latest post:

I’m a self-diagnosed future-tripper. I love imagining what could happen months or even years down the road. This time of year, especially, it’s easy to start dreaming and strategizing about 2026.

But right now, I’m trying to be intentional about not racing there. Instead, I want to use the next couple of weeks to slow down, pause, and make sure I’m actually learning what I need to from 2025.

In our Elevate Program, we talk about reflection often. Reflection is where the learning happens. And for me, it’s easy to slip into do-it mode—jumping from project to project, task to task, trip to trip. When we move that quickly, we leave a lot on the table if we don’t stop to ask ourselves what we’re experiencing along the way.

So, in the spirit of pausing, I’ve put together a list of questions that are challenging me to slow down and think a bit more deeply about 2025. I’ve grouped them by theme to add some structure and context.

If you’re craving meaningful reflection as we close out the year, save this piece. When you can carve out the time, start with the questions that spark something in you.

A note for the reader

You don’t need to answer every question here. This isn’t a checklist or an assignment. Think of this as a starting point.

Notice which questions grab your attention. Pay attention to the ones that make you pause, feel slightly uncomfortable, or linger longer than the others. Start there.

Often, the questions we want to skip are the ones with the most to teach us.

What actually happened this year?

Before we analyze, optimize, or set intentions, it’s worth pausing long enough to name what actually unfolded.

• When you look back at 2025, what surprised you most about how it unfolded?

• What did you think would matter this year that ultimately didn’t?

• What mattered far more than you expected?

• Where did your lived experience of 2025 differ from the story you told yourself about it?

How did you show up?

This isn’t about grading yourself. It’s about noticing patterns in how you responded — especially when things felt uncomfortable or uncertain.

• In moments of pressure this year, who did you tend to become?

• Where were you most aligned with your values — and where did that alignment slip?

• When did you stay present instead of reactive?

• Where did you choose clarity over being liked?

Patterns you can’t unsee anymore

As the year comes to a close, some patterns are harder to ignore — not because they’re new, but because they’ve repeated themselves often enough to be unmistakable.

• What patterns showed up again and again this year, even when the context changed?

• What situations consistently brought out your strengths?

• What situations reliably depleted you?

• What is now obvious about how you work, lead, or relate that wasn’t clear a year ago?

Growth that didn’t look like growth at the time

Not all growth is obvious while it’s happening. Some of it only becomes visible in hindsight.

• What felt difficult or disorienting in the moment but now feels formative?

• Where did you have to let go of certainty in order to keep moving forward?

• What did 2025 teach you about your capacity — not just your capability?

• What did you stop needing permission for?

Tensions you’re still holding

Closure isn’t always the goal. Sometimes the work is learning how to carry a tension without rushing to resolve it.

• What tension remains unresolved — and what have you learned from holding it?

• Where did you resist closure because something still needed to be understood?

• What conversations are still echoing for you?

• What are you no longer trying to fix?

Relationships, impact, and presence

This year wasn’t lived in isolation. It unfolded in rooms, relationships, and moments of connection.

• How did people experience you this year?

• Where did trust deepen — and how do you know?

• Who challenged you in ways that ultimately expanded you?

• Who did you become more generous with — your time, your listening, your expectations?

Letting go before moving forward

Before turning the page, it’s worth naming what you’re ready to release.

• What are you ready to stop carrying into the next year?

• What expectations can you let go of — of yourself or others?

• What role, identity, or pace no longer fits?

• What does “enough” look like now, after living this year?

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We’re sitting at the end of the year—a season when many leadership teams are deep in annual planning and shaping the strategy that will carry them through 2026. It’s a time that can feel energizing. Most people love the fresh-start feeling of a new year, the clarity of a renewed vision, the sense of possibility that comes with mapping out what’s next.

It’s also a moment where commitment really matters. And commitment almost always comes down to trust.

In The Five Dysfunctions of a Team, Lencioni talks about the relationship between healthy conflict and commitment: when people have the chance to voice their perspectives, push back, debate, and wrestle with ideas, they are far more likely to commit to the ultimate decision—even if it isn’t the exact one they personally would have chosen. Participation builds ownership.

That dynamic is powerful. But it’s not the whole story.

Because the reality of leadership is that not everyone is in the room for every decision. Some decisions—especially the big ones about strategy, people, and resources—are made by a subset of the organization. And on the flip side, each of us has also been the person receiving a decision we weren’t part of crafting.

Both roles matter. And both feel very different.

The Driver and the Passenger

One of the most useful metaphors for this dynamic is the experience of being a driver versus a passenger.

When you’re driving the car, your tolerance for risk is naturally higher. You might speed up to make a light, take a last-second turn, choose an alternate route, or brake suddenly. None of these things feel especially alarming because you are in control. You saw the conditions. You made the judgment call. You trust your own decision-making.

But sit in the passenger seat?
Suddenly, those exact same decisions can feel very different.

A quick lane change becomes jarring. A fast turn feels unsafe. A sudden acceleration can cue a silent prayer. Why? Because you’re not steering. You don’t have access to the reasoning, the instinct, the context. You just have the experience.

And that is precisely what it feels like inside organizations.

As leaders, we can easily underestimate how much understanding we have simply because we were in the room—hearing the debate, weighing the tradeoffs, seeing the sausage get made. Even if the decision was imperfect or high-risk, we feel settled because we lived the process.

But our teams didn’t.

So when we present “the decision” without the surrounding context, what feels perfectly reasonable from the driver’s seat can feel disorienting—even unsafe—from the passenger seat.

This doesn’t make anyone dramatic, defensive, or resistant. It just makes them human.

What Teams Actually Need

Not everyone can be part of every strategic conversation. That’s not realistic, and it’s not necessary.

But what is necessary is recognizing that:

• People commit more deeply when they understand how a decision was made.

• Trust erodes when decisions appear out of thin air.

• A team member nodding “yes” while privately carrying concerns or confusion is not truly committed.

As leaders, our job isn’t to have everyone in the room. Our job is to bring the room to them—to share enough context that the decision feels understandable and trustworthy.

Which brings me to two strategies that can dramatically shift how decisions land.

Strategy 1: Explain the How, Not Just the What

When we share a major decision with our teams, our instinct is often to jump straight to the headline: Here’s the decision. Here’s the direction. Here’s what we’re doing.

But if the goal is commitment—not just compliance—then how we arrived at the decision matters just as much as the decision itself.

You don’t need to take people through every detail. But sharing a slice of the thinking—the tensions, the tradeoffs, the disagreements that surfaced—creates a bridge between the driver’s seat and the passenger’s seat.

Even hearing something simple like:

• “We debated X vs. Y pretty heavily.”

• “There were strong perspectives on both sides.”

• “This part of the decision wasn’t obvious at first.”

• “Here’s what ultimately shifted our thinking.”

…helps people understand that the decision wasn’t made casually or in a vacuum. It shows there was conflict and there was rigor. It reinforces that the process was thoughtful—even if they weren’t in the room.

For most teams, that small window into the process does two things:

1. It recreates the context that gave you confidence.

2. It signals respect—that they deserve to know how the conclusion was reached, not just what it is.

You’re not giving a meeting recap. You’re inviting people into the experience enough that the decision feels grounded rather than abrupt.

This alone reduces the “passenger anxiety” that can show up when decisions lack context. It builds trust in the driver.

Strategy 2: Address Uncertainty

(Especially When the Stakes Are High)

Some decisions carry more uncertainty or risk. They require judgment calls that—even with solid reasoning—don’t come with guaranteed outcomes.

In those moments, one of the most disarming and trust-building things a leader can do is to acknowledge that uncertainty and share the worst-case scenario thinking that shaped the decision.

This doesn’t mean catastrophizing. It means showing that you’ve thought through the edges.

It sounds like:

• “We know this is a meaningful risk.”

• “Here are the indicators we’ll be watching closely.”

• “If X, Y, or Z trends the wrong way, we’ll reassess.”

• “These KPIs matter most in determining whether this path is working.”

• “This is the best call we can make with the information we have today—and we will refine as we learn.”

This kind of transparency accomplishes something subtle but powerful:

It shows that you’re not married to being right.
You’re committed to getting it right.

Teams don’t need their leaders to pretend they have all the answers. They need to know their leaders are paying attention, willing to adjust, and clear-eyed about the risks.

Acknowledging uncertainty doesn’t erode confidence.
Pretending certainty where there is none does.

If You’re in the Passenger Seat

These strategies are just as helpful when you are the one on the receiving end of a decision.

Instead of moving immediately into debate or resistance (a very human instinct), try reverse engineering the strategies above by asking questions that can get you there:

• “Can you walk me through some of the key conversations that led here?”

• “What were the toughest tradeoffs the team considered?”

• “What indicators will tell us whether this is working?”

• “Where do you anticipate making refinements along the way?”

These questions aren’t confrontational—they’re connective. They help recreate the missing context that the driver naturally had and the passenger naturally didn’t.

And often, the tension we feel around a decision softens once we understand why the choice was made and what the team is paying attention to going forward.

Because ultimately, if we’re going to execute our organization’s strategy well, commitment matters—not blind agreement, but informed commitment. The kind that comes from understanding the why, not just hearing the what.

A Final Thought

At its core, leadership is a constant practice of perspective-taking. We move in and out of the driver’s seat and the passenger’s seat every day, sometimes without even realizing it. When we forget that those seats feel fundamentally different—one filled with context and control, the other dependent on trust—we unintentionally make the ride harder for the people beside us. But when we slow down enough to share how we arrived at a decision, or to acknowledge the risks and uncertainties we’re navigating, we create something steadier: an environment where people feel informed, included, and equipped to commit. And in seasons like this one, when the road ahead is being charted and the stakes feel high, that kind of shared understanding isn’t just helpful. It’s essential.

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This week, during an Attention Management session with a fellow coach, we fell into a topic of conversation that has continued to stick with me for a few days: multitasking — and our very real belief that we’re good at it… and that it’s a skill worth bragging about.

We’re not good at multitasking.
We think we are, but we’re not.
It’s not how the human brain is wired.

Every time we switch from one task to another, we lose time, we lose quality, and we dilute our attention. This isn’t a character flaw — it’s neuroscience. And yet, despite everything we know, “multitasking” still shows up on job descriptions as a desired skill.

In that conversation, I said what I’ve thought for years:
Multitasking shouldn’t be a qualification. Prioritizing should.

Because the truth is: the ability to prioritize — to intentionally choose what matters most — is a far more valuable leadership skill than juggling 15 things at half-speed.

The Productivity Mirage

Most of us are living in what Stephen Covey coined the “reactive zone.” We bounce from urgent thing to urgent thing. We maintain a to-do list that somehow never gets shorter. And we get the temporary high of checking boxes, even when nothing truly meaningful is moving forward.

I talk to leaders all the time who say some version of:

“I ran around all week, and I still don’t feel like I’m making progress.”

This isn’t an effort problem.
It’s a prioritization problem.

We can spend 40 hours a week doing things other people ask of us, and not move a single one of our big initiatives forward. And when that becomes the norm, we start believing that being “busy” is the same thing as being effective.

It’s not.

Prioritization Is One of the First Things We Teach for a Reason

In our Elevate program, prioritization is foundational. It’s one of the earliest modules because it fundamentally changes how people function day-to-day. Once someone learns to prioritize, everything else becomes easier: coaching conversations, strategic planning, even boundary-setting.

Prioritization is a discipline, but it’s also incredibly freeing.

We teach people to think about it across different time horizons:

• Annual: What are my big rocks for the year?

• Quarterly: What meaningfully moves the business forward?

• Weekly: What five things would make this a successful week?

• Daily: What is the highest-value thing I can do today?

At every level, the question is the same:
What is truly important — and what is simply loud?

The Weekly Practice That Changes Everything

One of the easiest places to start is weekly planning.

Sometime between Friday afternoon and Monday morning, ask yourself:

“If I accomplished five meaningful things this week, what would make me feel successful?”

Five.
Not fifteen.
Not a full page of tasks.

Five priorities that substantially move the ball forward.

Then, put them in your calendar.
Literally block the time.

This does two important things:

1. It removes the low-level anxiety of knowing you have important work to do and not knowing when it will happen.

2. It forces everything else to fit around your priorities, instead of your priorities squeezing into the leftover margins of your week.

And here’s the magic: they always fit. The small things will get handled. They always do. But only if the big things are planned first.

This Isn’t Just About Work

Every one of us plays multiple roles:
Leader. Partner. Parent. Friend. Volunteer. Teammate. Human with a body that requires sleep and movement and care.

Each role comes with its own priorities. Prioritization helps us see across them without drowning in them. The trap we fall into is turning these roles into never-ending to-do lists.

Prioritization is not about saying something won’t get done.
It’s about saying:
“Not everything gets to be first.”

This is how we build productive, sustainable lives — ones that don’t require us to sprint endlessly in response to what other people place on our plate.

Multitasking Is Reactive. Prioritizing Is Intentional.

Multitasking often shows up when we’re overwhelmed, rushed, or trying to keep our head above water. It’s reactive.

Prioritization is the opposite.
It is proactive.
It is thoughtful.
It creates clarity.

And clarity is what unlocks capacity.

A leader who prioritizes — who consciously chooses what gets their attention and why — has exponentially more impact than a leader who relies on multitasking as a strategy. One is driving; the other is being pulled.

The Unlocking Move

If there’s one shift I wish every leader could make, it’s this:

Plan your priorities first. Let everything else fall around them.

The difference in output, creativity, and stress levels is profound.

And if you’re reading this and thinking, I want to prioritize but I don’t know where to start, here’s the smallest, easiest entry point:

Pick your five things for the week.
Block the time.
Honor it like a meeting.

Do that enough weeks in a row, and your life starts to change.

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In my last post, I shared how to begin building trust, even when you’re starting in a deficit. So for today’s Tuesday post, I want to share one of my favorite anecdotes from the year—one that perfectly encapsulates the rewards that can be sown from investing in trust.

Specifically, I want to share about the Circle of Trust. Not a name of my own creation, but one that I like to believe was lovingly given to the exercise. Let me set the scene:

The Offsite

Over the summer, I attended an off-site for a sales team I’d been working with closely. This group had been working together for about six months — long enough to have shared projects, real pressures, and the beginnings of team dynamics that were still taking shape.

Most of the people in the room had also been in my Elevate program during those six months, which meant we had already built a meaningful foundation of trust. They had used our cohort space to talk honestly about tensions, expectations, and what was helping or hindering them. Feedback had been flowing — across teams, up the organization, and within the group itself. By the time we reached this off-site, we had built the muscles for it.

But it’s important to note that while most folks had been going through my program, they hadn’t all been in the same cohort. Sales reps and executives had the same language, but they didn’t necessarily have the shared space or cadence to use the tools together on a regular basis.

So when it came time for my portion of the agenda, my gut told me we needed to make space. With this time together, in person, I wanted to elevate the communication. Give the positive feedback. Acknowledge moments of growth. Ask tough questions. Hold tensions.

Our newly anointed Circle of Trust was designed to create the conditions for trust to deepen in real time. It was aptly named.

The Instructions

Before we began, I gave the executive team one clear guideline: they could participate, but their contributions needed to stay positive. If constructive feedback came their way, they could ask clarifying questions — but the purpose was for the team to speak up, and for leadership to receive without defensiveness.

My goal was simple: make it safe for upward feedback to land well and be witnessed by the entire group.

Then I asked everyone to move into a circle. (Hence the name.)

What Happened Next

We opened the floor.

Positive. Constructive. Check-ins. Amends. Gratitude.
Anything honest was welcome.

And it worked.

People named tensions that had been quietly sitting under the surface. Leaders received feedback with openness and reflection. Teammates shared appreciation, frustration, and perspective. You could feel the room exhale as the slate started to clear.

What made this possible wasn’t the circle itself — it was the six months we had spent building trust in our cohorts. People had already practiced these conversations. They had learned how to give and receive feedback. They had seen that real dialogue didn’t have to be dangerous.

What stood out to me most was how naturally the group stepped into it. No mediation was required. No temperature spikes. Just honesty, humility, and a shared desire to move forward.

The Payoff

We’re now six months past that moment. The group is about to graduate from my program, and the growth is unmistakable.

They’re clearer. More confident. More cohesive. They’re better at speaking directly. Better at receiving directly. They’ve learned that honesty doesn’t rupture trust — it builds it. They can give feedback to their leaders. And if they need support, they know where to turn.

That’s the true payoff of trust work.
It takes time. It takes intention. And it requires practice long before you ever sit in a circle.

But when you do — when a team can look one another in the eye and speak truthfully — the investment becomes visible. Tangible. Transformational.

This work is doable for any team.
All it takes is a structure that holds them, a space to practice, and the courage to step into the circle.

Miss our latest posts? Check them out:

📬 Home of Elevaters publishes every Tuesday and Friday. Friday notes arrive directly in your inbox, while Tuesday posts live online.

👉 Stay connected with Haley on Instagram and LinkedIn, and follow Cohd on Instagram and LinkedIn for more behind-the-scenes, stories, tools, and reflections on Elevaters, teams, and trust in action.

I talk about trust constantly. It’s the foundation of the Five Dysfunctions of a Team model (that we study and apply in the Elevate Program) and most people intuitively understand that without trust, everything becomes harder. When trust is low, team dynamics get messy. Morale dips. Back-channeling increases. Communication narrows. We waste energy questioning motivations. And lack of trust tends to create… more lack of trust.

But actually building trust?
That part can be hard. And often, it feels nebulous.

I work with managers all the time who are trying to build trust with their teams. It’s not linear. And the beginning is always the hardest, because you’re often starting from a deficit. Sometimes that deficit has to do with past behavior by the manager — but just as often, it’s the byproduct of broader organizational decisions, historical dynamics, or past conditioning that has nothing to do with the current leader.

And here’s what I’ve noticed:
Simply recognizing “we have a trust issue” is not actionable.
To make trust actionable, we need to understand what creates it.

When trust issues feel deeply rooted, one component almost always comes into question: orientation.

When we’re assessing whether someone is trustworthy, we’re really evaluating whether they feel self-oriented or other-oriented. In other words:

Does this person care about me?
Does it feel like they’re paying attention to me?

If we’re trying to build or repair trust with someone, it’s helpful to sit in their perspective. From their point of view, does it feel like we care? Does it feel like we’re paying attention?

And if trust is important — and it always is — the question becomes:
How do I show that I care in a way that lands?

This brings me to an example from class this week that highlights how even the best intentions can still run into hurdles.

The Situation

“We have people on our team who have said they want our business unit to be more involved with broader cultural initiatives across the company.

To respond to that feedback, we asked for volunteers to lead our team’s involvement in the next holiday event.

But we were met with silence.

It’s frustrating because we’re trying to incorporate their feedback… but the same people who asked for this aren’t stepping up when the opportunity comes.”

The Tension

This example is incredibly relatable.

Most managers I know are genuinely working hard to show up for their teams. They gather feedback. They take notes. They try to act on it. And it can feel discouraging when you attempt to deliver exactly what someone said they wanted… and nothing happens.

You close the loop — and it still doesn’t land.

So what do we do when our efforts to build trust aren’t met with enthusiasm or movement?

In class, one participant asked:
“Would it be appropriate to ask this person why they didn’t volunteer?”

The instinct to inquire is great — but how we inquire matters.

The Solution

Here are the three moves I’d focus on:

1. Recognize where we’re making assumptions.

We heard: “I want the team more involved in company culture.”
We responded: “Great — here’s an opportunity to lead a cultural initiative.”

There’s a built-in assumption that the opportunity we presented is the opportunity they wanted. That may not be true. And operating on that assumption can lead to a lack of progress.

So, we want to close the loop and gather more context. More detailed perspective.

2. Lead with curiosity (and avoid “why” questions).

“Why didn’t you volunteer?”
— puts someone on their heels immediately.

“What would being more integrated into the culture look like for you?”
— opens the door.

Curiosity signals care. It says, I’m paying attention and I genuinely want to understand.

Some examples of helpful questions:

• “What kinds of cultural involvement feel exciting or meaningful to you?”

• “How would you want to contribute or participate?”

• “What does ‘more connection to culture’ mean from your perspective?”

“What” and “how” invite someone into dialogue.
“Why” invites defensiveness.

3. Be explicit about your intent. (You can’t over-communicate this.)

One of the clearest ways to show care — and lower self-orientation — is to narrate what you’re trying to do.

Something like:

“We’re really focused on incorporating the feedback we’ve gotten from the team.
I know integration with the broader company culture was important to you, and when we asked for volunteers to lead our department in the holiday event, that was the intention.
There wasn’t a lot of reception in the room, which isn’t a problem — it just tells me our interpretation of the feedback might have missed the mark.
I’d love your perspective on what meaningful cultural involvement looks like so we can do a better job moving forward.”

This does three things:

1. Shows your intent clearly

2. Acknowledges assumptions and invites collaboration

3. Positions you as other-oriented — paying attention, not dictating

Intent builds trust when it’s expressed transparently.

What This All Points To

I love this example because the team is working hard to build trust. One of the most powerful ways to lower self-orientation is to:

• Ask for feedback

• Take it seriously

• Make changes

• And explicitly connect those changes back to the feedback you heard

That loop signals care.
It signals attention.
It signals: “I’m listening to you.”

But even with the best intentions, trust-building isn’t linear. Sometimes your effort won’t be recognized right away. Sometimes the thing you offered isn’t the thing they meant. Sometimes you’ll have to try again.

The work is to keep the conversation going — with clarity, curiosity, and explicit intent.

Because over time, that’s what builds trust.

Miss our latest posts? Check them out:

📬 Home of Elevaters publishes every Tuesday and Friday. Friday notes arrive directly in your inbox, while Tuesday posts live online.

👉 Stay connected with Haley on Instagram and LinkedIn, and follow Cohd on Instagram and LinkedIn for more behind-the-scenes, stories, tools, and reflections on Elevaters, teams, and trust in action.

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Over the past few weeks, a number of my Elevate cohorts have been right in the middle of learning feedback — not just the structure of it, but the real-world nuance that sits underneath it. We spend time on format, but we’ve also had some great discussion about the context: the emotional bank account between two people, the dynamics on a team, the unspoken history that shapes how feedback lands.

And this week, one example stood out.

Someone in a session shared a tension they were feeling with their leadership team, and it opened up a rich conversation about something I see all the time: giving feedback up an organization is simply harder.

There are power dynamics.
There’s the relationship you’re trying to maintain.
There’s the sense that the stakes feel a little higher.

Even the most confident communicator can feel that friction.

But in high-functioning teams, upward feedback is crucial. Leaders should be getting the most feedback because their actions have the biggest impact. It’s takes dedicated effort to build that reality, but it’s important because it’s often the difference between leaders understanding their actual impact or unintentionally operating in a bubble.

That’s the context for the two strategies below. They don’t soften the message; they simply make upward feedback easier to communicate and easier to move through — without getting lost in hierarchy.

Strategy 1: Swap the Request for a Coaching Question

Invite collaboration instead of prescribing the fix.

Traditionally we teach that constructive feedback ends with a request. We do this because we want to make our feedback actionable. But, it’s not uncommon that making a request upward can land as abrupt or mismatched.

A small, intentional shift is to replace the request with a coaching-style question — something that brings your manager into the problem-solving process rather than telling them what to do.

An Example

Your boss added a new project to your plate while you were racing a deadline on another project. You felt stretched and worried about compromising your quality of work.

Traditionally, our feedback may sound something like this:

“Last week, Project B was assigned to me while I was trying to meet the deadline for Project A. I felt a bit overwhelmed trying to deliver both at the level I expect of myself. In the future, could we avoid stacking deadlined like that?”

Here’s what it could sound like to integrate a coaching question:

“Last week, Project B was assigned to me while I was trying to meet the deadline for Project A. I felt a bit overwhelmed trying to deliver both at the level I expect of myself. I’d love your perspective on how we might handle situations like that going forward. Do you have thoughts on what flexibility we have when competing priorities come up?”

Same clarity, same ownership — but now the conversation opens up.
You’re not dictating the fix; you’re collaborating on the solution.

Strategy 2: Use an SOS Check-In Instead of Constructive Feedback

When the bank account is lower or the power dynamic is higher, a check-in creates more space to explore.

An S.O.S check-in is designed for moments when you don’t have all the information and you’re starting to form a story. Instead of delivering constructive feedback, you surface the facts you see, name the story your brain is creating, and invite their perspective.

It’s one of the most effective tools upward because it opens the door rather than delivering a conclusion.

Same Scenario, Reframed as a Check-In

Here’s how that last scenario could sound as a check-in:

“Last week, Project B was assigned to me while I was trying to meet the deadline for Project A. The story I caught myself telling is that the overlap might have been avoidable if we’d approached the planning differently. But, I’d love your perspective on if that feels true, or if there’s something happening behind the scenes that I didn’t see.”

A check-in signals curiosity, not accusation. We get to share our story with the humility of acknowledging it may not be right.
It makes room for nuance, context, and additional information.
And it still leads to a conversation about how to prevent the problem next time.

The Through Line: Inquiry Changes the Tone

Both strategies come down to the same principle:

Inquiry makes upward feedback easier to deliver and easier to move through.

It doesn’t soften the truth — it simply changes the shape of the conversation.
It gives your manager space to respond thoughtfully, not defensively.
It keeps the clarity but removes the sharpness.
And it turns a moment of tension into a joint exploration instead of a top-down correction.

The goal I have with each and every team I work with is that we make rich, consistent feedback flow in every direction across a team without hesitation. I want my Elevate participants to have the tools to build strong relationships and give thoughtful constructive feedback when needed. And, that’s a process. The dynamics of giving feedback up the organization are real.

So, when in doubt, be clear, be specific, and integrate inquiry. It creates the conditions for a steadier, more constructive conversation, even when the stakes feel high.

Miss our latest posts? Check them out:

📬 Home of Elevaters publishes every Tuesday and Friday. Friday notes arrive directly in your inbox, while Tuesday posts live online.

👉 Stay connected with Haley on Instagram and LinkedIn, and follow Cohd on Instagram and LinkedIn for more behind-the-scenes, stories, tools, and reflections on Elevaters, teams, and trust in action.

As Elevaters, we want to support our people. We want to show up, give them what they need to succeed, and remove friction where we can. But even with the best intentions, there are barriers that get in the way.

If you’ve ever asked your team, “Do you need anything from me?” and been met with a quick, polite “No, I’m good,”—you’re not alone. That reflexive response doesn’t necessarily mean they don’t need support. It often means something else.

Sometimes it’s about pride or conditioning. Many of us have worked in environments where needing help was seen as weakness. For others—especially high performers or early-career employees—it’s about unrealistic self-expectations: I should already know this. I don’t want to take up space. I’ll figure it out on my own.

And sometimes, it’s simpler than that. We just don’t know what to ask for.

The good news? A few small shifts in how you ask can make a big difference. Here are two strategies that invite more honest, specific, and actionable answers from your team.

1. Swap “Do you need anything?” for “What’s one thing…?”

Instead of asking:

“Do you need anything from me?”

Try asking:

“What’s one thing I can do this week that would make this project easier for you?”

The difference might seem small, but it’s significant.

The first is a closed question. It’s easy to answer with “no,” even when “no” isn’t true. The second assumes that there is something—big or small—you can do to help. It’s open-ended, specific, and time-bound. It narrows their focus and prompts real reflection instead of a reflexive dismissal.

That phrasing signals partnership: We’re in this together, and I expect to play an active role in your success.

2. Offer a Menu of Support

The second strategy borrows from the Situational Leadership model—a tool we introduce in our Elevate Program.

Situational Leadership breaks support into two categories:

• Directive behaviors: tangible, hands-on actions like setting timelines, clarifying roles, establishing SMART goals, or demonstrating how to do something.

• Supportive behaviors: relationship-based actions like listening to concerns, problem-solving together, explaining the “why,” or coaching through challenges.

Both are valid forms of leadership. Different situations—and different people—require different blends of each.

When you share these options explicitly, you make it easier for your team to tell you what would actually help. For example:

“As you’re kicking off this project, let’s talk about what you’ll need from me to be successful. Would clearer timelines help? Structured check-ins? More context on the ‘why’? A sounding board to problem-solve along the way?”

Providing a menu of options reduces the stigma of “asking for help” and replaces it with clarity and choice. It also teaches your team how to think about support as a collaborative, strategic part of doing great work—not as a sign of weakness.

The Takeaway

Supporting people isn’t about asking once and hoping for honesty—it’s about creating conditions where honesty feels easy.

When we ask better questions and give clearer options, we don’t just make it easier for our people to get what they need. We build trust. We normalize asking for help. And we remind our teams that support isn’t a favor—it’s part of how high-performing groups operate.

That’s what elevating looks like in practice.

Our In Practice section is where we share ideas and takeaways from the team practices Cohd runs every week with leaders and team members across industries. If you want to learn from those sessions, explore our latest In Practice posts:

• Anonymous Feedback

• Three Great Questions I’ve Been Asked About Feedback Recently

Want more thoughts from our founder? Check out the latest from our ––HH section:

• Democratizing Real People Development

• In Development, By Design

📬 Home of Elevaters publishes every Tuesday and Friday. Friday notes arrive directly in your inbox, while Tuesday posts live online.

👉 Stay connected with Haley on Instagram and LinkedIn, and follow Cohd on Instagram and LinkedIn for more behind-the-scenes, stories, tools, and reflections on Elevaters, teams, and trust in action.

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I was on a coaching call this week supporting a participant who was navigating next steps after sitting with the results of an anonymous culture survey.

I also received an excited download from an executive who went to dinner with a colleague and found themselves on the receiving end of poignant, well-scripted, constructive feedback.

I spoke with a couple of Elevate members who know their team is giving feedback—but the form could use some refinement. (Follow form to prevent injury.)

Four distinct teams. Each in a different place when it comes to their culture of feedback.

I paint this picture because it’s important to recognize that creating a feedback-rich culture is a process.

We can’t simply go to our teams and will them to get better at feedback. Become more transparent. Step into hard conversations.

We need to put up guardrails, build trust, walk the walk ourselves, and create the space and safety that allow tighter feedback loops to emerge.

Getting Started & My Vision of a Feedback-Rich Culture

Let’s go back to that first example, because it’s an incredibly relatable jumping-off point.

I know tons of teams who leverage anonymity to collect unfiltered views from their people. And I don’t inherently see the use of an anonymous survey as a bad thing by any stretch.

But I told my participant exactly what I’ll tell you: it was the perfect tool for where they are today—and I want to help them get to a place where they don’t need it anymore.

My vision of a feedback-rich culture is one where we’ve built the trust, skills, and infrastructure for feedback to flow freely, person to person.

In my experience, feedback is most impactful when we hear it directly from the person—when we can see their body language, get curious, ask questions, and lean into active listening and perspective-taking.

When feedback is given and received effectively, it builds trust. It becomes a deposit in our emotional bank accounts because it communicates, I care about our relationship and your growth.

And in the absence of strong trust, feedback can be incredibly difficult—and often leads to withdrawals in those same accounts.

Which brings me back to today’s focus: the use of anonymous feedback.

Leveraging Anonymous Feedback

As I said earlier, anonymous feedback isn’t all bad—but it should be used sparingly and intentionally.

What doesn’t work:

Sending out anonymous survey after anonymous survey, circulating results among management or HR, and never directly addressing them with the broader team.

That approach leads to less engagement and less trust. It actively damages credibility and self-orientation scores. Employees stop seeing value in sharing their thoughts—and rightfully so.

What does work:

Soliciting feedback through an anonymous survey, sharing the results transparently, inviting additional perspective, and committing to next steps.

Do you need to act on every piece of feedback? No. But that doesn’t mean you can’t acknowledge every piece of feedback.

If we want our teams to be transparent, that begins with our own willingness to be transparent with them.

Let people see and hear how you’re processing what they’ve shared. Make public commitments around what’s changing, and be explicit about the role their feedback played in those changes.

That’s how we use anonymous surveys to build trust. Show gratitude for constructive feedback. Demonstrate that challenging perspectives are welcomed.

Build the foundation that eventually allows you to retire the need for anonymity.

The Impact of Transparency

When we can give and receive feedback without barriers or buffers, our teams move faster. Our people grow. We save copious amounts of time and energy.

No two teams are in the same place—we’re all working with different personalities, emotional bank accounts, organizational contexts, and skill levels.

But I’ve worked both with and within teams that have made the leap from reliance on anonymous feedback to open, robust, healthy feedback loops.

And with intentionality and practice, I believe most growth-minded teams can get there too.

Have questions about how to build that culture on your team? Don’t hesitate to reach out or drop a comment.

Our In Practice section is where we share ideas and takeaways from the team practices Cohd runs every week with leaders and team members across industries. If you want to learn from those sessions, explore our latest In Practice posts:

• The Skill of Naming Our Tensions

• Three Great Questions I’ve Been Asked About Feedback Recently

Want more behind-the-scenes from our founder? Check out the latest from our ––HH section:

• In Development, By Design

• I Created The Word Elevater

📬 Home of Elevaters publishes every Tuesday and Friday. Friday notes arrive directly in your inbox, while Tuesday posts live online.

👉 Stay connected with Haley on Instagram and LinkedIn, and follow Cohd on Instagram and LinkedIn for more behind-the-scenes, stories, tools, and reflections on Elevaters, teams, and trust in action.

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So many of us go through our day and experience frustration, stress, or pressure. We live through it. We feel the emotional response. Often, we react—doing whatever we can to get rid of or get away from the negative feeling.

What we don’t always do is step back and recognize what’s happening.

We’re in it. But we don’t as naturally step out of it and name it.

And trust me, I’ll be the first to raise my hand and admit guilt.

It’s hard work. Recognizing and pinpointing our tensions doesn’t happen by accident, but it’s an unlocking move when it comes to our growth.

More than that, it’s an underrated skill. Simply being able to say, “XYZ is frustrating me,” might seem small, but that step is exactly what moves us beyond pure reaction into inquiry and thoughtfulness.

An Example In Practice

Earlier this week, an Elevate participant put time on my calendar for coaching. He showed up and said:

“I’ve been feeling some frustration lately and realized that [xyz] is the phrase that triggers it. When people say that, it feels out of alignment with our values, but I’m not sure the best way to address it.”

At first blush, it may seem minor that he was able to pinpoint where the tension came from and what values weren’t being met. But I can assure you, it isn’t.

That level of awareness requires mindfulness, reflection, pattern recognition, and an understanding of your own internal value system. (He’s a couple weeks from graduating, so we’ve been putting our reps in on all these things.)

So, why is this awareness helpful?

Once we’ve pinpointed a tension:

• We’ve created distance from it, which allows us to be less reactive.

  • Ex: Ahhh yep, that’s the phrase that’s been bothering me—versus defaulting into fight, flight, or freeze every time we hear it.

• It lets us address the core issue.

Knowing the moment we’re triggered is wildly helpful both for our own self-awareness and for developing next steps.

Our Growth Lies In Our Tensions

In our Elevate Program, we teach participants how to show up as coaches themselves. And as part of that practice, everyone also gets plenty of opportunity to be coached.

Over time, I’ve learned that if you ask folks if they have a coaching topic, you’ll often be met with silence.

Not because they haven’t experienced moments worth coaching on, but because identifying tensions and opportunities is far from second nature.

As I said at the beginning: we often experience the stress, but we don’t step back and name it. So when you’re asked to recall it later, it feels almost impossible.

But when we can pinpoint our tensions, we unlock growth.

Even small moments of stress or discomfort, when coached or reflected on, can reveal new insights, unveil opportunities, and shift our attitude.

It’s Not About Negativity

When I ask you to build the skill of identifying your tensions, it’s not about dwelling on negativity.

It’s about shifting from life happening to us, to life happening around us.

When we recognize what’s happening inside or around us, we gain agency. We can ask questions. We can be discerning. We can show up in a thoughtful, elevated way.

We can stay stuck in the anxiety and frustration, or we can recognize it—and start to look at our options.

The second path is harder. But I promise, it’s far more rewarding.

So, Where to Start?

Build the habit of capturing your tensions. Keep a pad on your desk or a simple list in your notes app.

When you notice stress or frustration, jot it down. What was the exact moment that triggered the strongest reaction?

Over time, those notes will become a map—not of what’s wrong, but of where your growth is waiting.

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Our In Practice section is where we share ideas and takeaways from the team practices Cohd runs every week with leaders and team members across industries. If you want to learn from those sessions, explore our latest In Practice posts:

• Three Great Questions I’ve Been Asked About Feedback Recently

• Pull Back the Curtain

Want more behind-the-scenes from our founder? Check out the latest from our ––HH section:

• In Development, By Design

• I Created The Word Elevater

📬 Home of Elevaters publishes every Tuesday and Friday. Friday notes arrive directly in your inbox, while Tuesday posts live online.

👉 Stay connected with Haley on Instagram and LinkedIn, and follow Cohd on Instagram and LinkedIn for more behind-the-scenes, stories, tools, and reflections on Elevaters, teams, and trust in action.

If you’ve ever worked with me, you know feedback is one of my favorite topics to teach. I genuinely believe that when done well, feedback is one of the most powerful tools we have to strengthen relationships, accelerate growth, and build trust.

Inside my programs, we spend a lot of time on something I call the S.O.S. Formula—a simple way to script and structure feedback so that:

• You set yourself up for success.

• The other person can actually hear and absorb it.

• The conversation feels fair, human, and digestible.

And whenever I teach feedback, I get a flood of thoughtful questions. So, in this post, I want to answer three I’ve gotten recently.

Q: Are there certain emotion words I should avoid in feedback?

One of the most important parts of feedback is including the subjective impact: how the situation made you feel. Sharing your emotional response humanizes the feedback and gives the other person valuable data about why their actions matter.

So, should you avoid certain words?

• Generally, no. Any honest emotion is fair to share—as long as you own it. Say “I felt angry” or “I felt frustrated,” not “You made me angry.”

• Where people get tripped up is with “almost emotions.” Words like disrespected sound like feelings, but they carry blame. “I felt disrespected” really means “I don’t think you respected me.” That shifts ownership away from your experience and toward judgment.

Bottom line: choose true emotions, own them, and stay away from words that sneak blame into the conversation.

Q: How do I know if something is worth scripting and delivering as feedback?

A lot of people assume feedback should only be given when the stakes are high—when the tension is at an 8, 9, or 10 out of 10. And yes, those moments matter. But I’d argue that the biggest opportunity is in the smaller, everyday moments.

Here’s why:

• Reps matter. Practicing on “low-stakes” situations builds your comfort and fluency. (Getting comfortable with delivering feedback requires reps!)

• Trust builds in small deposits. When you offer thoughtful feedback—even on a “3 out of 10” situation—you’re strengthening the relationship and opening the lines of communication. Use the small moments to build your emotional bank account.

• It prevents buildup. It is really easy to skip the small stuff, and sweep things under the rug. Most of us are great at rationalizing why something isn’t that big of a deal. But, the little things don’t actually go away. They just build up.

• Feedback fuels growth. When we see feedback as a way to help the people around us get better, it’s clear: we do our team a disservice if we only share it in the big moments and stay quiet in the small ones.

So don’t just wait for the big moments. Look for the 2s, 3s, and 4s. They’re the reps that pay dividends.

Q: What’s the easiest adjustment to make that will improve my feedback?

One word: script.

Writing your feedback out in advance might feel unnatural at first, but it’s the single best way to sharpen it. Why?

• You’ll catch unfair or unclear language before it leaves your mouth.

• You’ll naturally cut down on over-explaining (which usually comes from nerves).

• You’ll end up with feedback that’s short, clear, and kind.

Remember: concise feedback is kind feedback. Writing it out helps you get there.

Wrapping up

Those are three of the questions I’ve heard recently. But of course, they’re not the only ones.

So: What’s your biggest question about feedback? Drop it in the comments.

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Our In Practice section is where we share ideas and takeaways from the team practices Cohd runs every week with leaders and team members across industries. If you want to learn from those sessions, explore our latest In Practice posts:

• Pull Back the Curtain

• Common Ground Is Fertile Ground

Want more behind-the-scenes from our founder? Check out the latest from our ––HH section:

• In Development, By Design

• I Created The Word Elevater

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