Right now, many leaders are holding a lot – and feeling it.
The complexity hasn’t eased. The expectations haven’t softened. And beneath the doing, deciding, and delivering, there’s a quieter truth surfacing for many:
This version of me no longer fits.

Not because you’re failing. But because you’re evolving.
And the signal isn’t always loud — sometimes it arrives as restlessness, as craving, as the ache of “I miss myself.”

This is the beginning of re-membering.

A deeper kind of return

Not remembering, like recalling a past event – but re-membering, as in re-joining and returning to the fullness of your self.

In adult development theory, this moment is familiar. Robert Kegan, in his book In Over Our Heads, describes the transition from “socialised mind” to “self-authoring mind” as a shedding of borrowed identities. We stop organising our lives around what others expect and begin shaping them from internal coherence.

It’s not a midlife crisis. It’s a maturity crossing.

What if your fire isn’t out – simply buried?

Beneath the years of showing up, stepping in, and holding it all… something has kept glowing.

Not as performance.
Not as obligation.
But as a whisper of what is true… what is still possible.

And here’s what we often miss: capability can obscure clarity.

When you’re good at many things – when you’ve built a life around being reliable, perceptive, indispensable – it’s easy to stop asking what actually feels right. Easy to say yes because you can, not because you should. Easy to quiet the parts of you that aren’t palatable, predictable, or easily explained.

But those parts of you? They haven’t left. They’re waiting.

Waiting for a pause that’s long enough to be honest.
Waiting for a question that’s gentle enough to go deeper.
Waiting for you to recognise the signal not as discomfort – but as direction.

Why it matters now

In high-responsibility roles, it’s easy to conflate who we are with what we do – to become so competent, so adaptable, that we forget to ask: Is this still me?

This dissonance isn’t a problem to fix; it’s a signal. Not of failure, but of readiness. To lead from integration, not imitation. To return, not perform.

The signs and the science

Psychological research into positive disintegration offers a useful frame. When old patterns no longer fit, we experience inner disruption. But this disintegration – the discomfort, the envy, the restlessness – is not pathology. It’s potential. A necessary unraveling before a deeper self-organising can emerge.

The signs are often subtle:
– A desire that catches you off guard.
– A frustration that feels outsized.
– A fleeting glimpse of your fuller self … then the retreat.

These aren’t glitches. They’re guides. Like embers beneath frozen ground – not extinguished, only obscured.

In systems terms, it’s your internal compass reorienting toward coherence. The body registers it before the brain can explain it.

Magnificence rarely announces itself.

It often arrives disguised – dressed as irritation, as admiration, as craving.
It reveals itself in who you’re drawn to, and what you deny yourself.
It echoes in questions like:

• What am I not allowing myself to want?
• Who would I be if I stopped editing?
• Where did I first learn that I was too much… not enough… or both?

This is not indulgence. It’s intelligence.
The part of you that holds your knowing – your distinct tone, your clear preferences, your internal compass – it’s still here. Still intact.

The way back to yourself

Re-membering isn’t about dramatic change. It’s about gentle, intentional return.

Bringing back the parts of you that already know; the ones you sidelined to be acceptable, successful, dependable.

Re-membering might look like:
– Saying no – not to rebel, but to stay true.
– Walking without a destination – just to hear your quiet voice of knowing.
– Writing for ten minutes – without a required output, simply to be present.

Small enough to begin. True enough to matter.

Let that inner self know: I see you. I haven’t forgotten.

And if you’re ready to:

Reflect
What moments from your past still glow – not with nostalgia, but with truth?

Explore
The Flicker offers provocations and prompts to help you see what’s stirring.

Activate
If you’re ready to move from whisper to voice – let’s talk about how you want to lead next. Drop me a note and we can begin the conversation.

With truth and love