25/09/2026
When Calm Is Not the Whole Story.
I have always been considered a calm person.
At work, at home and socially, people often told me that my presence calmed things down. In difficult situations, I could think clearly, reassure others and bring perspective when emotions were running high.
For a long time, I assumed that because I appeared calm, I was coping.
I now understand that the two are not necessarily the same.
You can be composed on the outside while carrying enormous pressure on the inside. You can lead, support others, make decisions and continue performing well while your nervous system is working increasingly hard to keep you functioning.
That was what I failed to recognise in myself.
My calmness was genuine, but so was my tendency to carry responsibility, solve problems and keep going. When pressure increased, I often became even more capable. And because I continued to appear calm, there were few outward signs that something was becoming unsustainable.
Until my body provided one.
My panic attack was confronting because it seemed completely at odds with the person I believed myself to be. How could someone known for being calm experience such an overwhelming physical response?
Eventually, I understood that my calmness had not disappeared. My stress had simply exceeded my capacity to contain it.
That experience taught me an important distinction between composure and regulation.
Composure is what other people see.
Regulation is what is happening within us.
A leader can appear completely composed while internally carrying chronic stress, excessive responsibility, emotional strain or exhaustion. And highly capable people can function this way for a surprisingly long time.
This is why leadership wellbeing cannot be measured simply by whether we are still coping.
A more important question may be:
What is it costing me to keep coping this way?
I did not need to learn how to become calmer. I needed to learn to notice what was happening beneath my calm—to recognise stress earlier, listen to my body, set boundaries before exhaustion demanded them and understand that being capable of carrying something did not mean I always should.
Calm remains one of my strengths. But today it means more than being able to steady the room.
It also means being able to notice myself within it.
Sustainable leadership is not about how much pressure we can absorb while continuing to look composed. It is about recognising when our internal resources are being depleted—and responding before our body has to shout.
Reflection: When I appear to be coping well, what might be happening beneath the surface—and what is it costing me to keep going?
