Failure. Just the word is enough to make most of us wince.

From childhood spelling tests to quarterly performance reviews, the fear of getting it wrong has been baked into how we show up, grow up, and (far too often) lead. We equate critique with condemnation, feedback with final judgment. And as a result, we end up avoiding the very conversations that could unlock our greatest growth.

But here’s the truth: feedback isn’t failure. When done well, it’s fuel.

At DCH Coaching, I spend a lot of time helping leaders rewire how they think about feedback. Because if your team equates critique with danger, they’ll protect themselves instead of improving themselves. They’ll play it safe. They’ll say less. They’ll hide the very insights that could move your culture forward.

And that silence? It’s expensive.

We love a good hustle. The all-nighter. The back-to-back Zooms. The inbox zero badge of honor. In many professional spaces, exhaustion has become a status symbol. If you're not running on fumes, are you even trying?

But here's the catch: burnout isn't a badge. It's a warning light. And leaders (especially the most passionate, purpose-driven ones) are often the last to see it flashing.

At DCH Coaching, I've seen the pattern play out across industries. Leaders who once led with fire now run on smoke. Teams that once thrived now barely survive. And behind it all? A culture that confuses depletion with dedication.

History isn’t just a storybook. It’s a mirror, and sometimes a magnifying glass. As Juneteenth approaches, many leaders glance back at the past with reverence. Fewer, however, ask what it means to truly lead forward with the weight of that past in view.

At DCH Coaching, I work with leaders who want to create meaningful impact. And around this time each year, there’s a particular invitation worth sitting with: How do we honor the legacy of freedom, resilience, and resistance in our leadership today?

Because legacy isn’t a monument. It’s a practice.

Somewhere between the Zoom echo chambers and the Slack noise, a quiet truth is whispering to us:

The best leaders are often the quietest ones.

Not the ones with the grandstanding monologues, or the ones who dominate the whiteboard, but those who know how to hold a moment, hold a gaze, and—most importantly—hold space for others.

I’ve coached enough leaders to know: there’s a kind of magic in leaders who listen well. It’s not passive. It’s not weak. It’s not a placeholder for the "real" work of leading. It is the real work. And yet, in a world that rewards the loudest voice in the room, listening can feel almost radical.

Let’s get something straight: ego isn’t a four-letter word. Well, it is, technically, but it’s not inherently evil. A healthy ego is what gets you out of bed, into the meeting, and through the tough conversation. It’s what says, “Yes, I can do this.”

But when confidence crosses into overconfidence? That’s where things start to unravel, often in subtle, slow-motion ways. And leaders? We’re especially susceptible.

Let me guess: you’re busy.

So busy, in fact, that you almost didn’t click on this post.

Because stillness? That feels like a luxury. Or maybe a trap. Like the moment you slow down, everything you’re juggling might just come crashing down.

But what if stillness isn’t the enemy of productivity? What if it’s actually the source of your best leadership?

Let’s cut to the chase: managers are checked out. Not all of them, but enough to set off alarm bells from the boardroom to the break room. According to the latest Gallup report, global employee engagement has dropped for the second time since 2009. And the group leading the disengagement parade?

Managers.

Let’s face it, we’ve all had that moment when we’re trying to rally a team, lead a meeting, or give a toast and suddenly think, “How would Morgan Freeman say this?” It’s a fair question. Because when it comes to influence, we’ve been conditioned to associate impact with polish, charisma, and the booming cadence of a Hollywood voiceover.

But real influence - the kind that makes people sit up, lean in, and take action - has less to do with performance and more to do with presence. Specifically, authentic presence.

There’s a strange myth in leadership—the idea that a great leader must be an unshakable, all-knowing, superhero-type figure who never sweats under pressure. If that were true, we’d all need capes and theme music just to survive a Monday morning staff meeting. But real leadership isn’t about putting on an invincible mask—it’s about taking it off.

In a world that celebrates hustle, grinding, and going the extra mile, the idea of slowing down can seem downright scandalous. We wear busyness like a badge of honor, equating productivity with worth. Yet, what if the secret to being more effective wasn’t doing more, but doing less?

I remember the moment I realized I had stopped leading and started merely managing. A once-enthusiastic team had become disengaged. Meetings felt more like status updates than strategy sessions. I was so focused on deadlines, checklists, and efficiency that I had lost sight of the bigger picture—motivating, inspiring, and empowering my team.

Like many leaders, I had fallen into the trap of management, mistaking oversight for impact, control for guidance. And I wasn’t alone. This is a common struggle in workplaces across industries, where leaders become so focused on tasks that they forget their true role—leading people.

The first time I sat in a meeting where AI-generated reports were being used to assess team performance, I felt a mix of excitement and unease. Here was a tool that could process vast amounts of data in seconds, identifying trends that would have taken weeks of manual work to uncover. But as the discussion continued, I noticed something else—some leaders in the room were visibly uncomfortable. Not because they feared AI would take their jobs, but because AI was making their shortcomings impossible to ignore…

I remember sitting in a high-stakes meeting, surrounded by executives who had been in the industry far longer than I had. My heart pounded. My hands felt clammy. I nodded along, hoping no one would see through me—that I wasn’t as confident as I appeared. That little voice in my head whispered, You don’t belong here. Any moment now, they’ll figure it out.

The conference room was eerily quiet. Just a year ago, it buzzed with energy—executives strategizing, managers collaborating, and employees feeling guided toward a shared mission. Now, after a wave of layoffs and an exodus of key leaders, the company found itself at a crossroads. The remaining team members felt the weight of uncertainty, and those who remained in leadership roles were stretched thin, struggling to balance their expanded responsibilities. The organization wasn’t just experiencing a personnel shortage; it was suffering from a leadership void.