Leadership in Transition: Pace, Permission & the Selves We Carry

By Sheree Paterson

Leadership in Transition: Pace, Permission & the Selves We Carry

I’m in this weird place where I don’t recognise myself.

I’m starting to realise there is a flowing, fluid space where, at any given point in time, I ask: who is this person? I don’t recognise her but I’m getting to know her.

Maybe I can allow her to emerge alongside other parts of myself, while at the same time letting other parts dissipate.

In this space of emergence and becoming, I try to notice what is here now, without being sure what happens next. But right now, today, this is who I am - and this is how I’m arriving.

A core theme of Ebb & Haven is that we are always transitioning.

As the Ebb & Haven Community grows and our conversations deepen, curiosity keeps leading me back to reflection. I find myself sitting with questions that feel both personal and shared: what parts of ourselves are emerging as we move through transition? What enables us to flourish? And what, sometimes quietly, holds us back?

Identity at Work and Beyond.

I keep noticing the difference between who we are at work, and who we are elsewhere, and it leaves me wondering where “the self” actually sits within all of that. For some of us, we feel comfortable in our skin: I fit right now in the skin that I’m in. It feels comfortable. It feels like home. For others, that self only emerges when we are on our own.

This might lead us to ask: who is this person? Who is this self? And how do we cultivate a relationship with ourselves amidst the chaotic demands of our roles, the interruptions, the ruptures? At times, we feel an integrated whole. At other times, we feel fragmented.

Consciousness, Perspective, and Making Room.

Consciousness, stepping back, gaining perspective, mindful awareness, all allow us to notice the feelings that emerge. And that noticing creates an opportunity for regulation that isn’t always possible when we’re fully in it, and subject to it. This brings to mind the metaphor of the balcony and the dance floor: stepping onto the balcony lets us notice what’s here, the welcome feelings, and the yucky ones too.

Rumi’s Guest House reminds us: make room for it all. What if we are the guest house? What if the self is a container of multiple selves and their myriad of emotions; anger, joy, sadness, hope, love, compassion, frustration - and we welcome them all. We might say: We sit down with them, and we have a cup of tea. Maybe this is how we flow, how we transition, by allowing feeling.

Relationship to Role and Identity.

What strikes me is that it’s our relationship to our roles - to work, to home - that allows us to show up differently… or disables us from showing up differently. The way our identities are layered and exposed shifts across contexts, because our relationship with those identities’ shifts.

Ultimately, it’s our relationship with ourselves that matters. And I find myself wondering: how do we recognise the role, and the character that shows up with it? What makes some contexts easier or harder to untangle?

Pace and Transition.

What we notice as we move through transition is that we each have a pace. We might dance through it, run through it, or slow down and wander. The question that emerges: Who needs me to be at what pace? If we look towards others, a certain pace may be expected often shaped by ideas of productivity. If we look towards ourselves, we may find a different truth — perhaps even a willingness to linger in the in‑between, languishing in its quiet luminosity. When we sit with ourselves, in relationship with ourselves, a different pace entirely may emerge. Which of our selves do we sit with?

When Are We Most Ourselves?

When do we feel most like ourselves? When are we just “us” our true self and what conditions make that possible?What are the elements, the characteristics, of those moments?And what do we notice we are just playing a role?Perhaps this is when resentment fuels: a signpost that we have disconnected from ourselves and separated into role.

In transition, who is emerging? What is emerging? What are we being intentional about cultivating rather than letting old patterns drive the process? What choice do we have? There’s an uncomfortable flow here a reminder of William Bridges’ work on transitions: endings, new beginnings, and the liminal in between.

Endings, Loss, and Grief.

Grief and loss come with endings: one role, or multiple roles, ending at once. Familial roles. The loss of being a daughter. A friend. A carer. Questions surface: Who am I leaving behind? Who am I living for? Who am I now? These are conversations we have with ourselves, within ourselves. And when the answers don’t come: How do we notice what’s evolving?

Patience, Space, and Permission.

We are constantly consistently in transition. So how do we cultivate patience for a destination we will never arrive at? What is patience? Is patience simply being present with the self? And what is the role of space? Where are the spaces that allow us to be whole: at home, by the water, on the yoga mat, in the car, in the breath, in the in between? These are the spaces that invite us to pause, to open, and to relax.

We wonder about proportionality: If I did these strategies more often, would we need the whole two weeks by the water? As athletes in this “corporate life” shouldn’t we also have off seasons, performance peaks and troughs, recovery and in the moment rituals? Some of us are better at the big pauses. Some of us are better at the small habits. Some of us don’t have an off season.

So, is this about permission? What is it about permission that resonates so loudly for many women? Who are we waiting for permission from? Many of us might realise: I have got time, but I don’t allow myself that time, because I’m waiting for permission. Who are we waiting for?

And with that question: can I be fine until I get to the destination I’m heading toward, given that it does not exist? If the end point does not exist, perhaps the invitation is to notice the gems of wisdom glistening along the way.

I’m deeply grateful to the Ebb & Haven community whose willingness to sit in transition, and move with the ebbs and flows, continues to shape how I think, lead, and create.