A couple of weeks ago, I had an experience that surprised me with just how much it revealed—not just about myself, but about leadership.
I went for an open water swim, something I usually enjoy. I was wearing my second skin—a suit designed to protect the body from jellyfish stings—but it doesn’t cover the face, hands, or feet. Within the first 30 seconds, I was stung—right on my face.
I had a strong sense that it wasn’t a good day to swim, but I pushed that feeling aside. I really wanted to get my swim in.
I told myself I’d keep going, but if I got stung one more time, I’d get out.
Dozens of stings later, I was still out there.
I had convinced myself that if I swam further from shore, maybe there would be fewer jellyfish. So I swam out—way out—about 300 yards. That’s when I swam straight into a thick bloom of them. Panic hit. I started to “panic swim,” which is never good, but especially not for me, since I have nerve pain in my arms and need to move through the water gently.
I was nearly a mile from where I started before I finally got out of the water and walked the rest of the way back. I was frustrated, overwhelmed, and irritated. The jellyfish felt like a barrier—in my way—and I just didn’t want to let them win. So, despite my anxiety, I kept swimming.
Looking back, I can see how much this moment mirrors the way so many of us live our lives.
How many times do we push, and push ourselves to achieve—ignoring the signs that we need to stop—only to leave ourselves exhausted, disconnected from our loved ones, and frustrated with the very thing we once loved?
For me, it was the jellyfish. For you, it might be a project at work, a fitness goal, or the endless striving to prove yourself. We tell ourselves, “Just a little more. Just one more push.” But at what cost?
A Lesson in Self-Leadership
A few days later, a friend sent me a cat video.
In the video, a tiny kitten cowered in the back of a cage, terrified, hissing every time an adult cat tried to get close. The older cat was patient. Gentle. Each time the kitten hissed, the adult cat paused, then slowly tried again. Over time, the kitten calmed. Eventually, they curled up next to each other—the kitten leaning into the cat, finally feeling safe.
At first, I just thought it was a sweet video. But when I asked my friend why she sent it, her response hit me right in the heart. She said:
“I was likening you to both characters: that hypervigilant, terrified, traumatized child self, and the patient, loving parent. The parent gets slowly closer and finally turns her back, letting the little one settle against her and fall asleep—realizing she’s safe. The little one is exhausted, and finally leans in. The parent turns her head slowly and sends her a heart. You are that good parent to that little girl. You are learning to re-parent yourself. And doing a damn good job of it.” 💜
Her words cracked something open in me.
I could see the kitten inside of me—scared, reactive, worn out—and also the cat: calm, loving, protective. When I was at a weeklong retreat in Arizona, I’d met that child inside me before. But this moment was different. The video gave me a living, moving image—a symbol I could return to. It helped me recognize, in a new way, that caring for her is my responsibility now.
And that’s when I realized: leadership starts here.
Leadership from the Inside Out
A few days later, I read in a Facebook group that the bay was jellyfish-free. Part of me was skeptical, but another part was hopeful. The next morning, I packed up my gear and headed out for a swim.
As I drove the eight minutes to the beach, I noticed my heart rate rising. My body was telling me it was scared. I remembered the kitten and the cat, and I spoke out loud to myself in the car:
“If I get stung more than twice, I’m getting out. I’ll stay close to shore. I can leave the water at any time.”
That self-reassurance made a difference. My heart rate came down a little. I could feel that I was doing something kind—protective—for myself.
When I got to the beach, about a dozen swimmers were getting ready to go in. Two were coming out of the water, so I asked them how their swim went.
“Well, it only lasted about 100 meters—he got stung twice,” one of them said.
I handed them the jellyfish sting spray I had just bought, then walked to my car and put all of my gear away. I went to the pool instead.
What I Learned About Leadership
What I realized later was this:
Fear had not been kind to me that first day.
I was too afraid to miss out on the swim, afraid to not get my exercise, afraid that something I love was being taken from me. That fear kept me pushing forward, deeper into the water, even when everything in me said, please stop.
I’m still proud of myself for being brave. I did something hard, even while afraid. But I’m learning now that bravery isn’t always about pushing through. Sometimes, it’s about listening closely. It’s about asking what’s most kind—not what’s most “impressive.”
That day at the beach, choosing not to swim was a breakthrough in self-leadership. I heard the fear—the real fear, the kind that comes from something deeply rooted—and I responded with compassion. I gave myself safety and gentleness instead of pressure and pain.
And isn’t that what great leadership is?
Leadership isn’t about ignoring fear or pushing through at all costs. It’s about listening to the signals—both from yourself and others—and responding with care. It’s about creating safety, not just for those you lead, but for yourself.
When we lead from the inside out, we model what it means to be brave and kind at the same time. We show that strength isn’t about force—it’s about presence, patience, and compassion.
That day, I chose to lead myself with care. And in doing so, I learned a little more about what it means to lead others.
Here’s to your greatness,
Misti Burmeister
Misti Burmeister is an award-winning executive coach and high-performance facilitator with 20+ years of experience helping organizations tackle complex people challenges to drive growth and cultural transformation. Known for her ability to ignite engagement and improve communication, she has guided countless leaders in motivating excellence and building thriving, productive teams.