From Control to Curiosity: A Leadership Story About Reactivity
Photo by Nicola Barts
Most leaders are taught to stay steady under pressure. Solve the problem. Manage your reactions. Keep moving forward.
But what happens when doing all the right things still leaves you anxious, reactive, and one step behind the next crisis?
This is a story about Joe.
Joe had built his reputation on being steady under pressure. He led the sales department of a large manufacturing company and was known for a respectful, collaborative approach. His team trusted him. Manufacturing trusted him. Problems came with the job, but most days he felt capable of navigating them.
One afternoon, he discovered that one of his sales representatives had promised a delivery timeline manufacturing could not meet. Joe called the rep into his office. His intention was simple. He wanted to bring the issue forward and enlist the rep’s help in solving it.
The conversation did not go the way he expected.
When Joe pointed out the problem, the sales rep stiffened. Instead of acknowledging the issue, they pushed back, saying Joe hadn’t even congratulated them on landing the sale. Their voice sharpened as they spoke about how hard they had worked and how disappointing it felt to be met with criticism instead of appreciation. Within seconds the tone shifted. The rep accused Joe of being unsupportive and abruptly ended the conversation, leaving him sitting alone at his desk. The door clicked shut. Joe felt anger rising alongside a tight wave of anxiety. At the same time, he felt relieved the conversation was over. He knew he would have to explain the situation to his boss, and the pressure settled heavily on him.
When Doing Everything Right
Joe glanced at his watch. It was just after four. He had been at work since early morning, earlier than most. He told himself he had done enough for the day. He informed his assistant he would be unavailable until morning, then drove home.
That evening he poured a drink, turned on a show, and vented to his partner about the sales rep over dinner. The tension softened enough for him to sleep. The next morning, however, the problem returned before his feet hit the floor. His stomach tightened as he thought about the upcoming conversation with his boss. He swallowed a Xanax and headed to work.
Joe arrived before anyone else and closed the door to his office. With two quiet hours ahead of him, he opened spreadsheets and began to work through the numbers. He pushed down his fear and focused on solving the problem. He walked down the hall to speak with the VP of manufacturing. How soon could the overbooked order realistically be fulfilled? What would it cost to adjust production?
Armed with the facts, Joe returned to his desk. He calculated margins and drafted a plan. A delayed delivery date paired with a discount could preserve the client relationship and soften the financial impact. He felt a measure of control return as the pieces came together.
When the sales rep arrived later that morning, their voice carried a cold edge. “You wanted to see me?” Joe’s stomach clenched, but he stayed composed. He presented the solution. The rep pushed back at first, then agreed to contact the customer and renegotiate. As the rep left, Joe felt a flicker of relief. Maybe he had dodged a bullet with both the rep and his boss. Yet the sense of appreciation the rep had wanted the day before still lingered unspoken between them, an unresolved tension Joe tried not to think about as he turned back to his work.
The relief did not last long.
The underlying tension between them remained. Manufacturing had to shift focus to handle the overbooking, delaying a new prototype. Future projections slipped. Joe’s quarterly bonus was suddenly at risk. He found himself waiting for responses from both the customer and the rep while imagining the impact on his reputation and future. Anxiety crept back in. He reached for another Xanax and tried to stay focused.
That afternoon HR called. The sales rep had filed a complaint.
Joe felt panic rise in his chest. HR wanted to meet later that day. As he hung up the phone, he remembered that the company offered confidential coaching. He dialed the number and described the support he was seeking. Someone would call back within the hour.
An Unexpected Conversation
While he waited, his mind raced through possible outcomes. When the coach finally called, Joe felt cautious but reassured when he learned the conversation was confidential. He began describing the situation in detail. To his surprise, the coach asked less about the logistics of the problem and more about what Joe was experiencing internally.
At first Joe resisted. He explained that he needed strategies, not feelings. The coach listened, then gently pointed out that Joe’s current approach seemed to be creating more complications. Joe paused. He acknowledged that he had been playing defense all week, solving one issue after another without feeling any real stability. He agreed to spend twenty minutes considering a different approach.
The coach introduced an unfamiliar idea. Instead of managing and controlling his reactions, Joe could become curious about the parts of himself influencing his thoughts, emotions, and behavior. If he could understand their concerns and needs, he might discover more workable ways to respond. Joe noticed something unexpected as they spoke. His anxiety eased slightly. The idea made sense in a way he had not anticipated.
Seeing the Pattern
In the weeks that followed, Joe began to see a pattern. Whenever someone reacted defensively, he felt misunderstood. When appreciation was missing or criticism was implied, fear surged so strongly that he lost perspective and focused on managing that fear above all else. When someone blamed or challenged him, anger layered on top of the fear. His history with anger made him withdraw. He numbed himself until he felt calm enough to fix whatever problem sat in front of him. The rupture with his sales rep, the pressure from his boss, the disappointed customer. Each became another fire to put out.
With the coach’s support, Joe learned to recognize these internal reactions rather than push them aside. The immediate crisis stabilized. The sales rep renegotiated successfully with the client. Joe worked with HR to establish a six month coaching plan before revisiting the complaint. He missed his quarterly bonus. Yet the disruption forced him to step outside his usual cycle long enough to notice how reactive he had become. Gradually he began accessing a steadier sense of clarity and internal wisdom that felt less dependent on controlling every outcome.
A Different Kind of Leadership
If you see yourself anywhere in Joe’s story, you’re not alone. Many of us respond to pressure by trying to manage discomfort and stay in control. It makes sense. And sometimes it works, at least for a while.
What Joe discovered was that curiosity about his internal reactions opened access to clarity that control alone never provided. The Internal Family Systems model helped him understand the concerns and needs driving those reactions, making change feel more sustainable and less forced.
Where do you notice yourself managing discomfort instead of getting curious about what’s underneath? internal reactions opened access to clarity that control alone never provided. The Internal Family Systems (IFS) model helped him understand the concerns and needs driving those reactions, making change feel more sustainable and less forced.
Where do you notice yourself managing discomfort instead of getting curious about what’s underneath?
