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The world is shifting beneath our feet. Uncertainty has become part of our daily reality, and leaders everywhere are feeling the weight of it.
For years, we have been told that resilience means toughening up. Grit, power, endurance, and keeping a stiff upper lip were the hallmarks of strong leadership. This is what I learned growing up in Scotland. It is also what allowed me to run hundreds of ultramarathons across some of the toughest terrain imaginable. You keep going. You grit your teeth. You endure.
But what if that narrative is wrong?
What if the real strength leaders need today comes not from bracing harder, but from softening?
Softening into the discomfort. Softening into the unknown. Softening into the very vulnerability we have been conditioned to resist.
I discovered this for myself recently in a powerful coaching session where I experienced something unfamiliar. I was truly held. Not just supported intellectually, but physically and emotionally held in a way that softened layers of armour I did not even realise I was still wearing.
The Experience of Softening and the Relief It Brought
I entered the coaching session without an idea for my topic, but what unfolded was something deep, something I hadn't anticipated.
As I leaned back, it felt as though an invisible foam mattress was holding me, supporting my whole being. My back melted into the soft embrace, and with each breath, a wave of relief rippled through me. My body, so used to holding itself together, began to melt into the softness beneath me.
With every breath, my body let go a little more. My muscles, long clenched in habitual tension, began to release their grip. Not all at once, but in a series of gentle, trembling pulses, as if my body were waking up to safety for the first time in years. Like sparks of life returning to places I had forgotten how to feel.
A blissful softness spread through me, not just in my muscles, but in the very fabric of my being. Something inside me shifted, a quiet surrender, and I softened even more. Tears of relief spilled silently into my lap, each one a release of held stories. Stories of the times I held myself together because I did not know I could be held.
My body shuddered with tiny, tingling twinges as my muscles gave up the fight. The holding, the bracing, the perpetual readiness for the next challenge, all of it could fall away. They surrendered to this rare and precious sense of being safe, supported, and finally seen.
I was safe. I was supported. I was seen.
And for perhaps the first time in a long time, I could let my barriers fall away without fear.
The Discomfort of Staying Open
Relief, however, is not always comfortable.
Being held for so long and allowing myself to stay in that softness felt unfamiliar. It brought up discomfort, a sense of restlessness, even a quiet panic. Almost intrusive in its tenderness. I have spent a lifetime learning how to hold myself, how to brace against what the world might bring. Being held for this long felt disorienting. I no longer knew who I was without the tension. Who was I without my armour? How could I lead or even stand in the world without it?
But instead of rejecting the discomfort, I spoke it aloud. I named it. The simple act of naming made it okay. It was not a problem to solve or a flaw to hide. It just was. Discomfort was welcomed into the space, held alongside me without judgement or the need to fix.
That simple act of welcoming dissolved its power. The discomfort no longer needed to be hidden or controlled. It was seen, and that was enough.
I felt something else arise. A faint veil of protection across my chest. Softer than the thick armour I used to carry, but still present. And just like the discomfort, I welcomed it. As soon as I did, it dissolved too.
This is the leadership lesson so many of us need right now. The parts of ourselves we push away — our discomfort, our fear, our need for protection — do not need to be eliminated. They need to be seen and welcomed. Only then can they dissolve on their own.
Stretching into the World from a Place of Safety
Something beautiful happened in that space of trust.
There was a moment, a surreal and gentle moment, when I could feel myself stretching upwards. It was as if I could stand taller, lengthen my spine, and stretch my whole being into the world.
And it felt safe.
For the first time in a long time, it felt safe to be seen. Safe to take up space. Safe to let the world see me, not as a leader projecting competence, but as someone fully present and alive.
That sense of being held, within my own body and by the space around me, allowed me to meet the world with a kind of grounded, embodied presence I had not felt before.
This is what leadership can be. Not a performance. Not a mask. But an embodied presence that holds space for yourself and others.
No fear. No shrinking.
Just presence.
Just being.
Just belonging.
The Essence of Love
In that space of openness, something else appeared. A big, white ball of energy hovering in front of me, right between my heart and my head.
It pulsed with a presence so pure, it was hard to name. Not romantic love. Not sentimental love. The essential love that holds us all when we allow ourselves to soften into it. However, love seems too small a word for it. It was essence itself, the essence of everything we long for and everything we already are.
I pulled it into my soul, allowing it to merge with me. It radiated outward and inward at once. It stayed for a moment, then gently moved back into the world. It belonged to all of us, not just to me. It was love in its purest form.
That energy, that presence, that love. It is not something to cling to. It is something to let flow through us. This is the real work of leadership in uncertain times.
Not controlling, but allowing.
Not tightening, but softening.
Not leading from power, but from presence and connecting.
Holding Each Other in a Shifting World
While this experience was personal, I felt it reflected something much bigger.
We are living through a collective shift. Organisations, teams, and entire systems are bracing for what comes next. It is tempting to double down on control and toughness, to try to out-muscle the uncertainty.
But the leadership we need now comes from somewhere very different.
We need leaders willing to soften. To hold space for the discomfort and fear, rather than shutting it down. To be present with what is emerging, even when it is messy or unclear.
This is not passive leadership. It is courageous, grounded, and fiercely compassionate leadership. The kind that invites trust. The kind that makes space for creativity, innovation, and true connection. The kind that allows the future to emerge organically, rather than being forced into existence.
Small Acts, Big Shifts
The opposite of fear isn’t courage. It’s love.
And love, in leadership, does not have to be grand or dramatic. It lives in the small, daily movements that create the conditions for people to feel safe, seen, and valued.
A kind smile to a stranger.
Seeing someone as they are in this moment, not clouded by the memory of who they were yesterday.
Acknowledging someone’s emotions without rushing to solve them.
Being fully present with those we love, holding space without agenda or distractions of our phones or TV.
Taking a moment to genuinely ask a colleague how they are, and staying present long enough to hear the real answer.
Offering encouragement to someone who is doubting themselves, even if you are not their manager.
Recognising someone’s quiet contributions, especially the work that often goes unseen.
Pausing before responding in a difficult conversation, softening your voice and body before you speak.
Noticing when someone is struggling and offering support, without trying to fix them.
Creating space for quieter voices in meetings, inviting those who often hold back to share.
Letting go of needing to be the one with the answers and allowing space for collective wisdom to emerge.
Owning your own mistakes with humility and compassion, modelling that it is safe to be human.
Choosing kindness when you are tired, frustrated, or under pressure.
Acknowledging the effort it took for someone to speak up, even if you do not agree with what they said.
Remembering that leadership is relational. Every interaction is an opportunity to either build trust or erode it.
These small acts of love and presence are not just kindnesses. They are the foundations of trust and psychological safety. They are the fabric of authentic leadership in a time when people are craving honesty, care, and connection.
These small movements are what shift the world.
Not power. Not force. Not fear.
Love.
Your Invitation
As you reflect on your own leadership, I invite you to pause and ask yourself:
Where am I bracing right now, in my body, my leadership, or my relationships?
What would happen if I softened, even just a little?
How could I hold space for myself and my team with greater presence
What is one small act of love I can offer today, to a colleague, a client, or even to myself
This is the work in shifting times.
Not through resistance, but through allowing
Not through armouring up, but through softening
Not through separation, but through connection
Not through protection, but through presence.
Not through fear, but through love.
About the Author
Debbie Brupbacher is an Transformation & Career coach, ultra runner, and founder of Embodied Transformation, guiding leaders, individuals and teams through deep personal growth and self-awareness. Drawing from endurance sports, somatic practices, nature and transformational coaching, she helps others navigate life's challenges with resilience, trust, and embodied presence.
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