This time of year has a way of amplifying whatever we’re already carrying. For some, the holidays bring joy and connection. For others, they stir up old family dynamics, unspoken expectations, grief that sneaks in quietly, or stress that’s been building all year.
And for many leaders, those emotional undercurrents don’t stay at home — they show up in the office, in the conversations, and in the reactions you didn’t see coming.
Across my coaching work, I’ve had countless clients who, once we start peeling things back, uncover challenges far deeper than leadership habits. Sometimes the load they’ve been carrying — expectations taken on too young, perfectionism baked in over decades, family roles they never asked for — isn’t something a coach can “fix.”
And during the holidays, those patterns tend to get louder.
That’s often the moment you realize: coaching isn’t enough — and that’s not a failure.
High-performing leaders often feel the instinct to jump in and solve things. I get it. I’ve done it. That impulse can feel like strength.
But stability is not the same as progress.
Sometimes the deeper work is like starting what you thought was a simple bathroom remodel and discovering black mold behind the wall. Surface work won’t cut it. You need a specialist. And the process is messy, uncomfortable, and slow.
Therapy works the same way. It’s not a revolution. It’s an evolution. And during a season when emotions already sit close to the surface, that pace can be frustrating — not just for the person doing the work, but for the people walking alongside them.
There’s also a deeply human, generational component to all this. Many older leaders grew up believing mental health struggles were weaknesses. Younger generations may be more open — but they still carry fear, resistance, or shame.
Understanding mental health is not instinctive. It’s learned. And the holidays tend to bring all of those learned patterns right to the surface.
So what do you do as a leader — especially now? You recognize the limits of your role. You create safety. You invite without forcing. You offer support, resources, and room to breathe.
And sometimes, you say: “I think you deserve care beyond what I can offer. Let’s figure this out together.” Then you let the process take the time it needs.
Because real change — personal or professional — doesn’t happen on command. It takes patience, trust, and lots of small steps.
Especially now, as the world gets a little louder and the season gets a little heavier, remember: Growth doesn’t reward speed. It rewards steadiness. Support. Courage. And patience — your own and someone else’s — is often the most powerful gift you can offer.
Photo by Peter Thomas on Unsplash
