Leading Change in a Charged Environment
The origins of my book go back further than I sometimes like to admit.
Years ago, I was working as a project manager at a software company that was building a brand-new product suite. It was ambitious, technically complex, and deeply interconnected. Multiple products. More than a dozen software and content teams. A delivery model we were essentially inventing as we went.
I was the content project manager. That meant I was responsible not only for getting all of the content delivered on time for launch, but also for building the infrastructure that would support monthly content updates going forward.
The pressure was intense.
This product was the company’s next big bet. Millions of dollars were being invested. The C-suite was watching closely. And like many “responsible” leaders in high-stakes environments, I internalized that pressure and then redistributed it to everyone around me.
One December morning, I gathered the content leads for our weekly status meeting. I pulled up the project tracker and went around the room for updates. Things were moving along fine until one manager shared his update and said the unthinkable.
“We missed the deadline.”
“Well, obviously that’s not good,” I said. “When will it be done?”
“We’ve never done this before,” he replied. “So I honestly have no idea.”
That’s when I lost it.
“This is unacceptable!” I snapped. What followed was a full-blown confrontation: him explaining why my expectations were unrealistic, me questioning his competence and commitment. The rest of the room sat frozen while the meeting spiraled into a shouting match.
I wasn’t this person’s boss. But I certainly acted like the worst version of one.
This is what I call the inner tyrant.
The inner tyrant is a self-protective and deeply counterproductive response to pressure. And if we’re unaware of this capacity within ourselves, we can do far more harm than good, especially when we’re trying to lead change.
Why the Inner Tyrant Shows Up
If you’re generally a kind, thoughtful, well-intentioned person, the inner tyrant doesn’t show up all the time. It tends to appear only when something important is at stake and the pressure to get it right is high.
At its core, the inner tyrant is trying to protect you. Its job is to make sure things don’t fail, deadlines aren’t missed, and you don’t look incompetent or irresponsible. The concern itself isn’t the problem. The strategy is.
As organizational psychologist Kurt Lewin famously put it, behavior is a function of the person and the environment.
In charged environments, where stakes are high and timelines are tight, stress gets amplified. Under those conditions, it’s no wonder we sometimes become a version of ourselves we don’t recognize or like.
Lightning Strikes and Lightning Rods
Here’s the good news in Lewin’s formula: even when the environment is charged, we still have influence over our behavior. And our behavior, in turn, shapes the environment around us.
I like to think of it this way.
A charged environment is like a lightning storm. There’s energy in the air. Tension. Uncertainty. Pressure.
That energy has to go somewhere.
In moments like these, we have a choice.
We can act like a lightning strike, discharging that energy abruptly and often destructively into someone else. When we do this, we amplify the stress in the system. We may feel a momentary release, but the impact ripples outward.
Or we can act like a lightning rod: grounded, steady, and capable of neutralizing that energy by absorbing it safely. The storm doesn’t disappear, but it becomes less dangerous to everyone around us.
Most of us toggle between these roles depending on how aware we are in the moment.
The Cost of the Inner Tyrant
Here’s the irony. The inner tyrant shows up to make things go right, but often produces the opposite result.
In my coaching work, I’ve noticed something that reminds me of Newton’s Third Law of Motion: for every action, there is an equal and opposite reaction. The harder we push, the more resistance we tend to provoke.
When we lead with force, urgency, or blame, people don’t suddenly become more capable or motivated. They become defensive. They withdraw. They push back. Collaboration gets harder, not easier.
And yet, in the heat of the moment, the inner tyrant insists that more pressure is the answer.
Taming the Tyrant
The inner tyrant feeds on speed, stress, and certainty. The only reliable way to tame it is to slow down.
One of the first practices I introduce in my book is something I call the Action/Reaction Sequence. It’s deceptively simple, and it starts with self-reflection.
When you’re in conflict or feeling frustrated, pause and ask yourself:
What was I thinking and feeling in that moment?
What felt at stake for me?
What might have been at stake for the other person?
What might they have been thinking or feeling?
When people walk through this sequence honestly, something interesting often happens. They notice a mirror image. What feels threatened for them, such as competence, credibility, or control, is often exactly what’s at stake for the other person too.
This is where empathy becomes possible.
Not because you suddenly agree with the other person, but because you can see the human logic behind their behavior.
And once empathy enters the picture, new options appear.
Building a Golden Bridge
This is how we build what I call a golden bridge to better change:
Self-awareness → empathy → dialogue → shared context → shared ownership
That sequence matters. If you skip the self-awareness step, everything that follows is fragile. Techniques don’t stick. Conversations stay superficial. Resistance hardens instead of softening.
Leading change in a charged environment isn’t about eliminating pressure or pretending the storm isn’t real. It’s about deciding, again and again, whether you’ll be a lightning strike or a lightning rod.
And that choice starts with noticing your own inner tyrant, before it takes the reins.
