In the 1980s an antiperspirant company coined the catchy tagline “Never let them see you sweat.” They still employ that same line today — sometimes it seems as if that concept grabbed hold of the ranks of starched-shirt executive leaders and never shook loose. It conjures the old military idea that leaders must always appear commanding and infallible to their “troops,” and can even be found within today’s more relaxed people-centric management styles. That very approach may be a roadblock. Take Harry’s team, for instance:

Sam was a senior executive reporting to Harry. While Sam spoke with utter composure, and indeed always showed up in a spotless, perfectly pressed shirt, he was sweating in those days. He told me: “No one on our team speaks up; no one shares their thoughts and feelings. Meetings don’t feel safe. The atmosphere is heavy.”

Digging deeper, it appeared that Harry, the team leader, was working exceptionally hard to maintain the semblance of invulnerability. He spoke of “his” team (not “our” team). He was quick to blame others; never admitted faults himself. He wouldn’t be caught dead saying “I’m not sure.” Within Harry’s team, this fierce facade of confidence, rather than inspiring loyalty, left a dramatic lack of trust.

Patrick Lencioni, in his incisive book, The Five Dysfunctions of a Team, says that absence of trust in a team comes from a lack of vulnerability by leadership. A lack of vulnerability: it’s a counter-intuitive concept, especially for those who have been swabbing their armpits (and teams) with antiperspirant all these years. But when you think about it, it’s natural for people to sweat; it’s natural for teams to stumble and fret.

Admitting to one’s mistakes, saying “I don’t know, what do you think?,” listening deeply to others, or opening up about the challenges you’re facing are just a few ways to create a productive vulnerability. And that is a great first step to building trust in teams, whole organizations, or any relationship you may find yourself in.

Harry was a command and control guy. Being ex-military, he was comfortable and skilled in its ways. But somehow he knew it wasn’t working. After getting feedback from his coach, Harry cared enough to try and change. He just didn’t know how.

Coaching sessions with Harry focused on reversing his lack of comfort with his own feelings. A sense of “being heard, being listened to” began to ease into his experience. Harry opened up to his doubts and fears. He began to appreciate talking about them — and learning from them.

As Harry developed this awareness, he began to engage with his team from a listening, not command-and-control, perspective. At first the team didn’t know what to make of it. When Harry proposed and led a personal histories exercise, frankly they thought he had flipped out. Soon though, the culture began to shift. Sweat was decreasing; trust was increasing.

1980s leadership ideals, espoused by Lauren Hutton

Specifically, Sam noticed that Harry would admit to mistakes. That led to the team being more open about their own vulnerabilities and weaknesses. Don’t get me wrong: this took time — a good six months — to imbed. Vulnerability-based trust starts with shared experiences.

As Harry began to let go of old notions of control, he admitted that he felt lighter, liberated, less afraid, and more courageous (to be vulnerable). The illusion of control was replaced by humility and humanity. The power of interdependence became prevalent. And consequently the team’s trust, commitment, accountability, and results soared. You might say the team found a new antiperspirant: inspired vulnerability.

It was two days of heartbreak and bloodshed. And I’m sorry to say that I’m not being dramatic. Real trauma, including lost love (and the accompanying agony of self doubts and soul searching) as well as a bona fide stabbing in the neighborhood rocked my whole family over less than 36 hours last week. First, the update: the stabbed neighbor is recovering and so is my family member with the broken heart. Second: a deep breath.

In coaching leaders, we focus every day on values, tools, and ways of making the most of agonizing circumstances. And yet all that good advice and all those helpful techniques don’t change the fact that sometimes life just hurts.

No matter how resilient we are as leaders facing work stress, our personal life — by its very nature — has a way of attacking us when we’ve set aside our armor. When my personal life suddenly became a set of LARGE family challenges last week, that emotional rollercoaster threatened to derail not only my work productivity but my own bigger sense of personal equilibrium. Oddly, the usual pile of business deliverables felt much easier than the family crises.

As the week’s unhappy events began to unfold, my first piece of self-coaching was to adopt a long-term view, like planning for the next rest stop when a driver’s eyes get heavy on a road trip. Obediently I looked ahead to my granddaughter’s fourth birthday party, not two days away, but in the heat of crisis this did little to assure me that everything was going to be alright.

I pondered how as leaders we are always in the middle of several things that compete for our attention. There’s an obvious survivor instinct that tends to prioritize the life-or-death and condition-critical issues, but failure to tend to our other basic needs can be equally crippling when true crisis strikes. Even emergency room surgeons take time off to be with their families, to eat, sleep, play, and live. But when our free time — that “down” time to recuperate and recharge with our family becomes another source of stress, what then?!

I turned to Travis Bradberry and Jean Greaves’ book, Emotional Intelligence 2.0 and the book fell open to a simple diagram showing two primary competencies and four emotional intelligence skills. The phrases “self-awareness” and “self-management” jumped off the page as if written just for me: here was a starting point. The tips and techniques I attach to these powerful concepts include a reminder to be with my discomfort in moments like this. Though I love to remedy things, going into “fix it” mode is sometimes the wrong move.

At the same time, I knew I was facing some very real stressors, and I wanted to do something other than worrying. How could I manage my own reactions, rather than have them manage me? I remembered something I had read by Jeffrey A. Miller about how to get emotional distance from a situation: “Take a six second vacation.” Here’s how Miller explained it (and how it worked for me):

• Inhale for two seconds, sending the air where you need a little help. (Boy, did my jaws and shoulders need that air!)
• Exhale for two seconds, releasing all muscle tension in your body, starting at the head and moving to the toes. (It took a few tries, but then it was amazing how many knots could unwind a little bit in just two seconds.)
• Do nothing for two seconds. (Wow, not springing into immediate action was refreshing!)

I could feel myself start to relax and even took another couple of six-second vacations for good measure, which helped me feel more grounded and able to see beyond myself. And that’s when I was able to be there for my family, if for nothing more than to simply listen and care. Really tuning in to hear the heart and soul of another is perhaps the biggest gift you can give a human being, and it becomes hard to do if your own heart and soul are cluttered and heavy.

When my granddaughter’s fourth birthday party arrived, complete with a live Princess Belle and 11 little princesses in attendance, my awareness was still piqued. And I was oh-so receptive to the joys of that day! I knew that the other stresses had not vanished, but my relationship with them had changed. Of course different things work for different people — and when emergencies happen, the more options available to us the better. So, fellow leaders, what helps you most when facing acute anxiety? Please comment below: we’d love to hear.

Photo by acme

As he talked me through it, I could definitely relate, but in my case the problem is a puppy. Remember that high-energy pup I mentioned in a blog this summer? Well, he’s become our “wild child.” Recent escapades, like eating half of his bed, have stirred up so much havoc in our household that my husband and I are torn between jumping left or right. These are serious and emotionally-wrenching discussions: 1) Do we find him another home? That’s an alternative that leaves us feeling miserable, like failures. Or, 2) do we stick it out and endure these nonstop stresses? How long until puppyhood is finally over?!

I don’t mean to put our Marley-and-Me dilemmas on par with the conundrums of the executive leader, but the process can feel similar: like a life’s on the line. As leaders, we wrestle with tough dilemmas all the time. How do we confront employee burnout when we can’t afford more people to offset the workload? When time and energy seem limited (that’s always, of course), do we spend them growing new markets or cementing existing relationships? Which problems take priority on an already-bursting list?

The problem with our problems? If we wrestle too long, inertia can set in. Not deciding is a decision, whether conscious or not: it’s the decision to stay put till something better presents itself. Sometimes that’s the right approach, but when you’re in the middle of the road and the headlights are bearing down? Time to move!

Moving from the middle of the road usually means letting go of the hunt for the perfect answer. Change the way you’ve defined your problem; it could be that the question you’re asking is seriously limiting your potential answers. (A dear friend recently reminded me of an Einstein tenet: “If I had an hour to solve a problem I’d spend 55 minutes thinking about the problem and five minutes thinking about solutions.”)

Once you’ve defined your problem, brainstorm completely new alternatives to resolving your dilemma; the very act of brainstorming can kick you out of the ambivalence (that polarized either/or thinking) that has you trapped. And if you’re still torn between multiple options, use the values of your organization or the principles of your life to guide you toward the best choice. For instance, when even the largest of global companies make values-centered decisions, they are finding innovation, productivity, credibility, and competitive advantage.

One thing that works for me is to allow myself a specific timeframe to sit with a particular dilemma. After that period—whether a day or a month — I know it’s time to act. I must do something, anything; at the very least I know I’ll learn from what I’ve chosen. Through this practice of experimenting and learning I find I’m building wiser instincts for better, more informed decisions in the future.

As for our puppy, Trek? Our decision timeframe expired… and we’ve decided to keep him. But we’re committed to change, to movement: his behavior (and ours!) simply must improve. (Anyone know a good dog trainer?!)

Photo by the rhumb line