Trust isn't something you earn once. It's something you sustain.

When I think about my own path as a leader, one word keeps coming back. Trust.

Trust isn't something you earn once and then carry forever. It has to be sustained. It grows through small choices, tested in uncertain moments, and strengthened when people show they believe in you enough to let you try.

I know this because my own growth has depended on it. I didn't become the leader I am today only through my own effort. I became one because others gave me room. They allowed me to take ownership. They let me make mistakes and find my way forward. At the time I didn't always see how important that was. Looking back now, I realize those moments shaped everything.

The hidden side of change

Most organizations describe change through plans and frameworks. The new structure, the roadmap, the process. These matter, but they're not what decides if change sticks.

What often makes the difference is less visible. It's how leaders behave when things get uncomfortable. Because change always brings discomfort. It asks people to let go of habits that once made them successful. It replaces the familiar with the uncertain, and that often creates fear. It tests the patience of teams who want results quickly but find themselves moving slower than they hoped.

In those moments, the psychology of leadership matters. Do we grip tighter, or do we open space for others? Do we rush to provide answers, or can we hold the questions long enough for new ideas to surface? Do we put on a mask of confidence, or do we show up as we really are?

These are small choices, but they ripple out. They signal whether it's safe for people to speak honestly, to take risks, and to carry ownership. They decide whether change feels like something imposed or something built together.

What I had to unlearn

When I first stepped into leadership, I thought my job was to stay close to everything. I felt pressure to have the answers, to make the calls, to always look confident. That instinct came from a good place. I wanted to help. I wanted to protect my team. I thought it was my responsibility to carry the load.

But over time I saw what happened when I held on too tightly. People stopped taking initiative. When I gave answers too quickly, they stopped exploring their own. When I tried to perform confidence, they could sense the gap between my words and reality. And once that gap showed up, trust began to fade.

The hardest lesson was realizing that what had made me successful early in my career, being decisive, solving problems, projecting certainty, was exactly what I had to unlearn if I wanted to lead change.

That's a humbling thing to discover about yourself at 40-something. But here we are.

The shifts that matter

From that journey, three shifts stand out to me. They're not theories. They're practices I still work on every day. And honestly, some days I'm better at them than others.

Trust, not control. Stepping back so others can step forward.

Curiosity, not certainty. Keeping possibility alive instead of closing it down too quickly.

Presence, not performance. Building trust through honesty instead of polished answers.

None of these shifts are easy. They go against the instincts that helped many of us succeed in the first place. They ask us to let go of control when we feel exposed. To hold questions longer when everyone's impatient for answers. To show up as we are when it feels safer to hide behind performance.

The complexity of leading change

What makes these shifts so hard is the tension leaders carry. On one side, there's the expectation to move fast, to provide clarity, to reassure. On the other side, there's the reality of uncertainty, where clarity isn't immediate and where reassurance can slip into false comfort.

Change is uncomfortable. It brings doubt. It surfaces fear. And leaders aren't immune to that. I've felt it myself. The fear of letting go, the fear of slowing down, the fear of not knowing.

Leading change doesn't mean removing fear or discomfort. It means learning how to move with them. It means showing others that discomfort isn't a sign of failure, but part of progress. It means proving that fear of the uncertain can be carried together, and that trust is what makes it possible.

What I want to share

In the next posts, I'll go deeper into each of these shifts. They're not answers, but practices. They're habits that grow slowly, shaped by the real pressures of leading in complex situations.

In Trust, not control, I'll share what it's looked like to step back from details and let my team carry ownership.

In Curiosity, not certainty, I'll talk about how rushing to provide answers too soon can kill possibility, and why leaving space often produces better outcomes.

In Presence, not performance, I'll reflect on how trust deepens when we stop pretending and show up as we are.

A closing thought

Looking back, I realize that my own growth as a leader depended on others giving me space. They trusted me before I had fully proven myself. They allowed me to try, to make mistakes, and to adapt. That trust didn't just help me in the moment. It set the foundation for how I now try to lead.

Change is never only about strategy or structure. It's also about psychology. It's about how leaders respond when things get uncomfortable. It's about how we carry fear of the uncertain without letting it control us. And it's about sustaining trust over time, so people can step into the unknown together.

Because change isn't something we perform. It's something we practice, day by day, in how we show up.

This is part of my ongoing exploration of The Possibility Principle of Design.

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