When I woke up one morning in the spring of 2015, I did not realize that my journey to become a better leader of myself would officially begin.
That day was the first time retired U.S. Army Colonel Allen Forte and I led a Performance Intensive together. Allen is an inspiring, exceptional leader, and I was anxious that people would compare me to him and find me lacking.
Twenty-seven executives were seated in a horseshoe arrangement. Allen began to ask each of them, “What could you give up to become a better leader?” One by one, each responded with answers ranging from “sleep” to “impatience,” to “email,” to “power,” to “time,” to “position,” and so on.
I was hoping Allen would overlook me when I heard, “Okay, Miss Dare, what could you give up?” My heart skipped a beat. I looked up and suggested, “Control?” To my shock, Allen replied, “That is a great one for you. You are a control freak!”
Stunned and feeling the heat rise to my cheeks, I became aware that my desire to control was not a secret. Further, Allen—a person I greatly admired—said, “control freak” in a way that made it evident that being one was not a good thing.
Unmasked and feeling vulnerable in front of people that I had hoped would see me as accomplished and wise, images of yellow Post-its flashed through my mind. My mother used to sprinkle notes that said “chips,” “dip,” and “veggie platter” on tables before hosting potluck parties. At around age 13, I asked, “Mom, why do you place Post-its around before guests arrive?” She replied, “I am helping people know how to help.”
Suddenly, 30 years later, I realized that my mother wanted to help herself—not others. She made sure that everything was placed exactly how and where she wanted it.
As I sat there thinking about this “aha” and trying to regain my composure, I wondered whether I had been telling myself the same story: my directives and explicit instructions were helping people. But were they?
Could it be that instead of helping people, I made those people feel like I did not think they were capable or that I didn’t trust them?
How was my controlling nature impacting my relationships – professionally and personally?
Was I imposing my self-interest and what I thought was the right way – or even the only way – on my team?
How was I limiting the ability of others to develop and grow?
Faced with self-awareness and a deeper understanding that I was negatively impacting people, I decided to not only be aware but to care enough to change and become better for others.
As a leader, we began setting outcomes together as a team, and I was not attached to how we got there, which meant people could share their ideas and choose their paths. With consistent effort and determination, I began to successfully overcome my controlling nature before others had to overcome me.
Becoming less controlling has improved relationships in all areas of my life. Being more others-focused has drastically improved my ability to lead myself and others to achieve better outcomes and success that is more predictable, repeatable, consistent, and sustaining for everyone.
