Beyond the Title
When I was young and learning to draw, I used to sketch my hands for practice.
Learning to draw is really learning to see. When you look closely enough at something, long enough and without rushing to label it, strange things begin to happen. My hand would stop being “a hand.” The label would dissolve, and what remained was more immediate: light, shadow, form, texture, and shape. I was no longer drawing my idea of a hand. I was drawing this hand at this moment.
Years later, I realized leadership suffers from the opposite problem.
The longer we lead, the easier it becomes to stop seeing clearly — and to start relying on labels instead. Founder. Executive. Expert. High performer. We inherit the expectations attached to those roles and slowly begin performing them, often without realizing it.
At some point, many ambitious people stop asking what is true of themselves and begin asking what someone in their position is supposed to do.
Instead of responding to reality, we start protecting an identity.
One leader I worked with for more than a year had spent decades striving for a C-suite role. Promotion after promotion reinforced the belief that fulfillment sat just beyond the next milestone. Then they arrived — the title was finally theirs.
After the excitement settled, they admitted to me: “I thought this would change more than it did.”
The achievement was real, but so was the recognition that an identity built entirely around becoming eventually runs out of places to go. The title couldn’t resolve the deeper questions quietly attached to it:
Am I enough now? Did I finally prove myself? Can I stop striving?
The more tightly we hold the identity of who we think we’re supposed to be, the harder it becomes to adapt, to listen, or to change. Feedback starts to feel threatening. Failure feels existential. Uncertainty becomes intolerable, not because the stakes are catastrophic, but because identity has fused with performance.
And when identity fuses with performance, leadership becomes fragile.
The most trusted and admired leaders are often the least attached to proving who they are. They can admit uncertainty. They can change their minds without feeling diminished. Their worth is not dependent on always appearing correct, so they can actually see what’s in front of them.
There is a steadiness to people who are no longer consumed by self-construction.
That steadiness comes from recognizing something simple but difficult: we are always more fluid than the identities we carry. Titles matter. Roles matter. Outcomes matter. But they are expressions of us, not the totality of us. The problem begins when we mistake the role for the self.
Leadership often becomes more effective the moment we loosen our grip on the identity of being a leader. Less energy spent protecting the self means more attention for what the moment actually requires — honesty, responsiveness, presence.
I often think about those childhood drawings and the strange experience of watching my hand stop being “my hand” long enough for me to actually see it.
Leadership asks something similar. To look beyond the role. Beyond the performance. Beyond the carefully assembled image of who we think we need to be.
Because the strongest leaders are often the ones most willing to move beyond the title long enough to see clearly again. In the end, perhaps, we are what we discover when we lose ourselves.
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