Leading Yourself | 6 min read
You Don’t Get Over Childhood Trauma. You Learn to Walk With It.
The plan that got you through as a kid still runs how you lead: every decision held, no help asked, always the one with the answer. The plan isn’t what has to change. Carrying it alone is.
The short version
Most people who’ve lived through a hard childhood will tell you it doesn’t just go away. You learn to walk with it. For a leader, that starts with seeing where the old survival plan shows up now: holding every decision, never asking for help, always being the one who fixes it. Those moves kept you safe once. Doing all of it by yourself is the part that can change.
First, plainly: I’m a coach, not a therapist, and this isn’t therapy. If what you carry feels heavy, a licensed therapist is the right first call. If you’re in crisis or thinking about hurting yourself, call or text 988 in the US, or call 911 in an emergency. My work is how you lead now, with whatever you carry.
The one who never brings a problem
Someone on your team says, “Want me to take that?” You hear yourself say “I’ve got it” before they finish the sentence.
You reread the email they already sent. You’d rather stay until nine than explain how you want it done. People bring you their problems all day. You never bring yours.
Someone once put it in nine words: “I’m always the problem solver, not the problem bringer.” If that sounds familiar, stay with me.
Then it’s late, the house is quiet, and you’re still running the plan: what could go wrong tomorrow, and how you’ll handle it before anyone knows.
There’s one part of that plan that can change. It isn’t the past, and it isn’t you.
Does it ever go away? The honest answer
People who’ve lived it tend to land in the same place. It doesn’t vanish because you got busy or got successful. You don’t forget it, and you don’t have to pretend. You learn to carry it in a way that lets you move. That’s what walking with it means.
The fawn in the grass was doing the right thing
Watch a young gazelle in its first weeks and you’ll see it doesn’t run. It lies flat and still in the tall grass while its mother keeps watch from a distance. For a fawn, hiding is the right move.
Later it has to stand and travel with the herd. Going from hiding to moving is when it looks most exposed.
You did what worked, too. Maybe you went quiet. Maybe you learned to need nobody. Maybe you learned to see trouble coming and fix it before it reached you. You were a kid, and you found a way through.
Some of those moves helped build your career. They just didn’t stay in childhood.
Where the old plan shows up in how you lead
Notice the ones that fit.
- Over-control. You hold every decision, because handing one off feels like standing in the open.
- Never asking. Help is within reach, and calling still feels like too much.
- Always the fixer. Every problem in the building finds its way to your desk.
- The small spark. Something minor sets you off, and afterward you wonder where that came from.
- Never enough. Money feels like armor, and the number that would feel safe keeps moving.
None of that makes you broken. It’s a plan you built when you were small, still on duty in a grown-up’s life. It’s loyal. It’s tired. And it’s been working alone the whole time.
You don’t get over it. You learn to walk with it.
The part that can change isn’t the past
What happened back then wasn’t your fault, and you can’t go back and edit it. What you do next belongs to you.
The old plan costs the most when it runs with nobody close enough to notice. Watch a herd long enough and you’ll see where the safety is: in the middle, with others around you, not out at the edge by yourself.
That’s the “alone.” The decisions you never share. The thing you’ve never said out loud. I’ve written about what that does to a leader in Lonely at the Top.
You may always carry some of it. You don’t have to carry it by yourself.
What you might be thinking right now
“Other people had it worse. I’ve got no right to complain.” You can be grateful for your life and still carry something heavy. Pain doesn’t have to win a contest to deserve attention.
“Isn’t this a therapist’s job?” What happened to you is therapy’s work, and if it’s heavy, start there. How you lead on Monday, with all of it, is mine.
“I’ll get pitched, or I’ll have to tell my story.” Neither. The next page asks for no money and nothing about your past. It runs on your screen, and nothing you mark is saved or sent.
Weight gets carried one piece at a time
I joined the Marine Corps in 1995, and later worked inside multinational corporations. The Corps makes Marines. We make leaders.
Today I’m the mentor of the mentors’ mentors. I coached the coaches. I sit across the table from leaders who hold everything for everyone, and I help them see what the noise hides.
Walking with it works like that. Nobody picks up everything at once. One piece, and when that holds, the next.
Start smaller than you think
- Write down your move. One sentence, no backstory. “I take over.” “I go quiet.” On paper, it’s a move, not who you are.
- Catch the first ten seconds. Next time the old move starts, take one breath and ask: is this about right now, or about back then? Catching it is the skill.
- Hand one piece over. Give one decision you’d normally hold to someone you trust, and let it be done their way. When you’re ready, share your sentence from step one with someone who needs nothing from you.
- Put a professional in your corner. If the weight is heavy, call a licensed therapist. You’d hire the best for your company. You’re allowed to do it for yourself.
If you kept nodding, here’s what it means. You’ve held the whole thing by yourself for years, well enough that nobody noticed. If you’re successful but unhappy, it’s often the same plan at work. The next page is a quiet way to see what it’s cost, one room of your life at a time, with nobody watching.
Common questions
How does childhood trauma show up in leadership?
Often as the moves that kept someone safe as a kid, still running at work: holding every decision, never asking for help, always being the one who fixes things, a short fuse over small things, or money that never feels like enough. Not everyone has all of these, and having one doesn’t make you broken.
Does childhood trauma ever go away?
Most people who’ve lived it say it doesn’t simply disappear. What changes is how you carry it. With support, many people build a full life alongside what happened, and it doesn’t have to make their decisions for them. If it feels heavy, a licensed therapist is the right first call.
Is a leadership coach the same as a therapist?
No. Therapy is where you work through what happened. Coaching works on how you lead now: your decisions, your conversations, your team. Plenty of leaders do both, and coaching is never a substitute for therapy.
Put one piece down
You don’t have to tell anyone your story. Walk the ten rooms of your life, mark each Lit, Dim or Dark, and see where carrying it alone has cost the most.
My coaching, facilitation, training and development aren’t therapy or medical care, and they aren’t legal, tax or financial advice. Nothing here promises an outcome. If you’re in crisis in the US, call or text 988.
Lead your power.
You don’t have to walk it alone
You’ve carried it a long way, mostly by yourself. Let someone walk part of the road with you.
The first step is small and private. Walk the ten rooms, mark what you find, and if one stings, pick fifteen minutes on the calendar with me or someone on my team.