So, I have two kids, Oliver and Mara, and the local pool opened up, so we found an instructor and signed them up for swim classes.

 

This is Amy Sadeghzadeh, a former Navy helicopter pilot and a dedicated member of our Arbinger team, who is even more dedicated in her role as a mom.

 

Oliver is nine, and he's always been a guy who never really wanted to swim on his back—he has tubes in his ears and complains the water gets in, which frustrates him. We met the instructor at the park while Oliver and Mara played on the playground. I started to share that he gets frustrated starting swim lessons with backstroke—usually, if the lesson starts there, he doesn’t want to work with the instructor.

 

As I'm saying this, Oliver is across from me on the jungle gym, giving me this look like, "What the heck are you talking about?"

 

He’s like, "I'm fine on my back. My ears don't bother me." You know, maybe nine-year-olds are just more comfortable being sassy with parents, or maybe it's just mine. He wasn't upset; just, "What are you talking about? That's not me." I remembered that morning’s podcast episode—just honoring our kids' agency and letting them grow into it.

 

He's not an adult—he still needs me in certain ways—but I'm seeing there are other ways where he manages himself. He knows his strengths and weaknesses. By speaking for him, I'm not helping him grow into that. I hadn't been thinking like that until then; I’d just been speaking for him. And I thought, "Oh man, I'm not recognizing—one, his growth, that he's evolved beyond what he used to struggle with; and two, I'm not recognizing his own voice and how he can articulate his strengths and weaknesses." It was a cool moment—I saw something I wouldn’t have noticed if the podcast hadn’t been on my mind.

 

We have loved hearing these stories—stories of people like Amy who are seeing and doing things differently because of what they've heard on the show.

 

In episode five, Janette talks about trying to help her coworkers and direct reports grow and how she struggles with that. Then she comes back in the next episode and tries to see her children and her daughter-in-law. I felt really connected to Janette—I saw myself in her—but the part of the story that really stuck with me was the idea of seeing agency in our own children.

 

What have you heard on the show that’s stuck with you? As we wrap up our first season, we're sharing some of the incredible stories you—our community of listeners—have shared with us about what you've learned and the experiences you've had applying what’s been shared this season. We'll also hear from one of the people who was coached and what happened when he decided to reveal, to the people closest to him, that he was the one being coached.

 

Welcome to Leading Outward, the Arbinger Institute's podcast, where we explore the tools and ideas we've used for over 45 years to help people solve their toughest leadership and organizational challenges by leading with an outward mindset—seeing people as people. I'm McKinlay.

 

There was a lot of fear—like, what if my coworkers see this? What if my peers, my friends… I’m trying to put on this Superman cape and then they see this guy that… he struggles as well.

 

Remember Jeremy from episode two? The guy who, four years into his new role, decided not to wait to really connect with the people he was trying to lead? The story of what happened after we released that episode is just as fascinating as what Jeremy discovered in the episode.

 

Jeremy, having your coaching experience recorded for the world to hear is so brave. For obvious reasons, we work hard to keep people coached on the show anonymous—no last names or locations, no company names. But then you outed yourself on LinkedIn. Tell us why.

 

Jeremy:

That’s a great question. When it came out, I had a lot of thoughts—should I share it, or not? But I listen to a lot of podcasts myself; I get things from hearing people’s trials. But there was a lot of fear—what if my coworkers see this guy that struggles as well? But then I thought, if the leader struggles, maybe we're all struggling and it’s okay. We can get better as a team.

 

So I thought, let me share this with my network. If it just helps one person, that's a win. What's the worst that could happen?

 

McKinlay:

Talk about that, Jeremy, because as an outsider, reading the comments and seeing the reposts—so many were genuinely grateful to know what you're navigating. Your openness almost gave them permission to also just be human.

 

Jeremy:

I was amazed. There were a lot of responses online, but it was the texts and phone calls from friends and peers—people I served in the military with, leaders I look up to—who read my post and listened to the podcast. One sent a note, "I've been there myself—it’s refreshing to hear that." Another left a voicemail—"Thank you. I needed to hear this today. I feel the same way." Those blew my mind—those were the ones I was afraid of. What would they think?

 

McKinlay:

Why did you fear the response would be different? Why do you think it landed so well with people?

 

Jeremy:

My fear was they’d see me not as a leader—less than. That was my biggest fear. Maybe it’s human nature—if we're in a room of peers, we try to uphold a persona, and suddenly we’re telling people we don’t have it all figured out. That’s scary. As leaders, we don't want to show vulnerability—it's like blood in the water for sharks. If I show I'm vulnerable, they’ll all attack.

 

But it didn't happen. Instead, they rallied around.

 

McKinlay:

You were afraid people wouldn't see you as a leader, but the response was: "This is actually what leadership is."

 

Jeremy:

Maybe it’s hard to be a leader because we don’t talk or share about the hard things. It's already hard enough, but we make it harder when we don’t talk about it.

 

For me, realizing the problem isn't everybody else, it’s me—I’m not being curious, learning, or growing—that's not a conversation I’d naturally have with peers.

No, it just doesn't happen. And it should.

 

McKinlay:

We need to have conversations, but with the right people. We vent to friends and family who have no context; it may feel good for a minute, but it’s not solving any problems—it doesn't make the workplace or the personal relationship any better. Real change happens when we talk directly with the people involved.

 

As we've reached out to you, this was a common theme: really turning outward has meant, for so many, finally having the conversation. Not talking about the people we’re stuck with to everyone but that person, but actually having a conversation—with that person, sometimes for the first time.

 

Seth:

I was thinking about the impact of those episodes—it was the opportunity to go and speak to my parents. It was almost like a circuit breaker. You’re on a path, a flow of electricity around a circuit, then you listen to the podcast and—circuit break—you need to reset. That’s the impact it had: an opportunity to have a meaningful conversation with both of them, separately.

 

McKinlay:

What prompted the conversation, and what was its purpose?

 

Seth:

To try to connect with them. Maybe I carried a little resentment. I’d gotten used to talking around the subject, and there was apprehension in calling and speaking directly about it.

 

I’m the eldest of eight. My dad worked a tough, difficult job and really did his best. Then, he just wasn't well enough to work—mentally and emotionally. It burned him out. There was such acute stress that it derailed him, and my mom had to build a business—working through the night to provide for us.

 

Years went by—my dad never resumed providing. He wasn’t doing nothing, but he wasn’t carrying that role. Watching that stress on my mom, I made a core commitment: I never want my wife to be in that position. I don't want to let her down; I want to provide for my kids. Sometimes that turns into the image I protect.

 

Listening to Janette talk about her family role, and her son and daughter-in-law, just sounded so familiar.

 

In those episodes, Janette discovers her ideal family image was getting in the way of healthy, meaningful relationships.

 

McKinlay:

What did you say to your dad?

 

Seth:

I explained I’d been listening to the podcast, and that it affected me because it’s linked to my experience as a child—and how it carries forward into me as a father. I wanted to talk with him about that.

 

McKinlay:

Was it the first time you had this kind of conversation?

 

Seth:

We’d been aware of it, but it had a big impact on how we grew up. There’s always that conflict between not wanting to reinforce tough memories and acknowledging it’s a huge part of how my life plays out. Listening to those episodes invited me to sit with that.

 

McKinlay asked Janette, “What do you think life’s like for them?"—meaning the strained relationships. I thought this is my chance to just ask them how it was for them.

 

McKinlay:

What did you learn about them in these conversations?

 

Seth:

I understood my dad is much more at peace now. He’s made peace with the meaning of those things, doesn’t feel the need to prove anything. I’m really glad for him—happy he’s comfortable in his skin.

 

Oddly, it made me uncomfortable—realizing my story is on me. He’s processed his life, so the meaning I make from things, that’s my responsibility.

 

McKinlay:

Did it surprise you to hear he’s at peace?

 

Seth:

Maybe a little, but why should it? Why shouldn’t he be? That was the shock—realizing the narrative I’d created isn’t necessarily fair. I can make peace with those things, too.

 

McKinlay:

You said this gave you the ability to address something that’s hard, but doesn’t have to be hard. Why is that?

 

Seth:

A difficult conversation is hard because of the baggage we carry or the emotion we bring. If the emotion is different, it’s still a sensitive conversation, but doesn’t have to be difficult. For me, the difficulty is going in with a blaming emotion. The absence of blame makes the conversation and connection more meaningful, human, strengthening, empowering, validating.

 

It’s still difficult—hard for the other person to hear, hard to bring up—but without blame, it’s not a difficult conversation.

 

The same thing is true for my children: when I’m self-absorbed with projecting an image, I can’t have meaningful conversations. But when that isn’t there, there’s possibility. When that self-justification is gone, so much is possible—there’s space for creativity, honesty, and growth.

 

It’s a paradox: ownership of difficult emotions is the antidote. Real honesty about our impact creates authenticity and can be really healing.

 

It's been remarkable to hear these stories—both on the show and online—of stepping into this space where change is possible.

 

It was through seeing Amy’s story posted on LinkedIn that I first learned about her experience with her son, Oliver.

 

Amy Sadeghzadeh:

I have to share with you that Oliver also read my little post. I thought he'd be kind of mad at me because he doesn't like me to share stories about him without permission—we've had a couple of conversations about that. But I was like, I'd like you to read this. He read it; he loved it, laughed, and said, “See, you think you know everything about me, Mom.” And I told him, “You’re right. I don’t. You’re growing and changing, and you can advocate for yourself.”

 

That's so beautiful. I'm imagining this moment—him feeling proud of standing up for himself to you and the instructor, reading your post, saying, "Yeah, I did do that." That's exactly what it was like.

 

Well, friends, that wraps up our very first season.

 

We hope that as you’ve listened to these first 10 episodes, you’ve been able to see something in your life differently. And if you have, don’t wait to take whatever action you feel is needed to continue leading outward—because that’s where change starts.

 

And if you're ready to start facilitating this sort of change within your organization, schedule a strategy session at arbinger.com. See you in season two.