(Wo)Man in the Mirror

Winning the War in Your Mind: A Journey of Self-Discovery

There is a song that has been the soundtrack to much of my life. It’s by the legend, Michael Jackson: "If you want to make the world a better place, take a look at yourself and then make that change." In leadership, we spend 90% of our time looking out the window—at our teams, our KPIs, or difficult colleagues. We obsess over fixing their behavior. But we rarely look in the mirror. And when we do, we often don't understand what we're looking at.

We assume our leadership style is just "who we are." But as I learned through the work of Dr. Caroline Leaf in Switch On Your Brain, what we call "personality" is often just biology and habit. From the time we are born, we observe our surroundings. We create neural pathways—mental superhighways—that determine how we react to stress, conflict, and success.

Dr. Leaf teaches that we can detoxify these thoughts and rewire our brains using a mix of scripture and science. But before you can plant new seeds, you have to understand the soil you grew in.

The Roots: The INTJ Child

I was not a typical child. While other kids were running in packs, I preferred solitary play. I was an INTJ from the start: independent, observant, and insatiably curious. I didn't just want to participate in the world; I wanted to understand it. But my "internal narrative" was written in a complicated environment. I was the middle child, and I often felt like the odd one out. Both of my siblings were tall, thin, with blonde hair, blue eyes, and Mensa-level intelligence. And then there was me: short, dark hair, green eyes. In a family that looked one way, I looked another. The persistent, nagging thought that took root in the back of my mind was: I am never going to measure up. Then came the storm that locked this belief into place.

When I was six years old, my parents began a bitter, scorched-earth divorce. It didn't end until I was ten. For four formative years—the years where a child is supposed to learn safety—I learned conflict. To survive the chaos, I developed a Fix-It Mentality. I figured if I could be the grown-up, if I could care for my older siblings, if I could solve the problems in the house, then maybe I could create stability. Beneath that was a Deep Fear of Abandonment. My logic was simple: If I am useful, they won't leave. If I am perfect, I am safe.

As a teenager, while others were testing boundaries, I was actively avoiding trouble. I was a Straight-A student and the Drum Major of my high school band. To the outside world, I looked like the model of success. I was on the podium, baton in hand, leading the band, keeping the tempo, and projecting total control. But inside, I was crumbling.

My home life was a pressure cooker. My father and stepmother were harsh, critical, and impossible to please. No matter how many A's I brought home, or how perfectly I conducted the halftime show, the message I received was clear: It’s not enough. You are not enough. To survive that environment, I learned a skill that would become my superpower and my kryptonite: Compartmentalization. I learned to take my pain, my fear, and my feeling of worthlessness, put them in a mental box, and lock the lid. I became over-resilient. I didn't need anyone. I didn't need comfort. I just needed to perform. I took care of my siblings, I took care of my grades, and I took care of myself.

I forged an identity of extreme independence because I believed that if I ever let my guard down I would be crushed.

The Rise: The Addiction to Security

This survival mechanism launched my career like a rocket. I didn't just climb the corporate ladder; I sprinted up it. I went from a Manager at 24 to a Director at 42. In the corporate world, my "trauma responses" looked like "leadership traits." On the surface, I was a high-potential leader: driven, organized, and strategic.

• Compartmentalization looked like "Grace under pressure."

• Over-resilience looked like "Grit."

• Independence looked like "Ownership."

  
  

But beneath the titles and the promotions, a new obsession took hold: Security. For a child who grew up in the chaos of a bitter divorce and a critical home, a paycheck wasn't just money. It was safety. It was the wall I built between me and the chaos. I became obsessed with the stability my career gave me. I wasn't just working for a company; I was working to prove to that voice in my head—the voice of my father—that I was good enough. I was trying to buy peace of mind with promotions.

But looking back, I realize my leadership was being powered by that terrified six-year-old girl. I wasn't a micromanager—I trusted people to do their jobs—but I was a Perfectionist. Perfectionism isn’t about high standards; it’s about armor. I believed that if I made a mistake, or if my team failed, the "abandonment" would happen again. I had to be the smartest person in the room not because of ego, but because of survival. I was running on fear. And as Craig Groeschel writes in Winning the War in Your Mind, "Our lives are always moving in the direction of our strongest thoughts."

If my strongest thought was I don't measure up, my behavior would always be defensive, anxious, and over-compensating. I realized that if I didn't win this war in my mind, I would eventually burn out—or worse, I would unintentionally hurt the people I was leading. But as I would learn, you cannot outperform your own self-image. No amount of titles can heal your thoughts if you feel unworthy. As Craig says, I had to stop trying to achieve my way out of insecurity and start rewiring the brain that told me I was insecure in the first place.

The Solution: Identify, Reject, Replace

Groeschel’s work, combined with my own introspection, taught me that you cannot just "try harder" to be a better leader. You have to change the inputs. You have to physically and spiritually rewire the pathways in your brain.

Here is the process I used to move from a Fix-It Mentality to a Healthy Mindset.

1. Identify the Lie (The Audit)

The first step is to catch the thought before it becomes an action. Groeschel calls this "taking every thought captive." I started paying attention to my "Why."

• Why am I staying up until 2 AM to format this presentation?

• Why does that critical email from a peer make me feel like the world is ending?

  
  

I realized the Lie I was believing was: "My worth is tied to my performance. If I fail, I am unlovable."

2. Reject the Lie (The Detox)

Once you see the Lie, you have to call it what it is. It isn't "just how I am." It is a mental stronghold built by a six-year-old trying to survive a divorce. It is not the truth. Dr. Leaf talks about "detoxifying" the brain—literally breaking down the proteins that hold toxic memories. I had to stop saying, "I'm just a perfectionist," and start saying, "I am operating out of fear, and I reject that."

3. Replace with Truth (The Rewire)

You cannot remove a thought without replacing it. Nature abhors a vacuum. If you just say "Stop worrying," you will worry more. You have to install a new pathway. I started using affirmations and scripture to create a new "default" setting.

• Old Thought: "I have to fix this or it will fall apart."

• New Truth: "I am a leader, not a savior. My value is in who I am, not just what I solve."

  
  

Small Habits, Big Change

As I began to win the war in my mind, my behavior changed. I didn't become a different person—I was still the strategic, independent INTJ—but I became a healthier version of myself. I started asking for help (which terrified me, but broke the "I must do it all" cycle). I started admitting when I didn't know the answer. And surprisingly, the "abandonment" never happened. My team respected me more, not less.

Change doesn't start in a staff meeting or with a new title. As the song says, it starts with the person in the mirror. It starts by realizing that you do what you do because of what you think of you. And if you can change what you think, you can change how you lead.