What If They Never Told You?

Recently, I had a dream involving two former leaders who played important roles in my career. In the dream, one of them was introducing me to a new opportunity while the other remained quietly in the background. At one point, a comment was made suggesting that the second leader had simply grown tired of me.

The dream itself was unusual, but what stayed with me after I woke up was not the dream. It was the question it raised. Was there feedback I never fully heard? Were there things about me that others experienced differently than I understood myself?

The question surprised me because I have no reason to believe either leader actually felt that way. Both were supportive at different points in my career. Yet the dream reminded me of something I learned many years ago during my Organization Development training: the Johari Window.

The Johari Window suggests that each of us has aspects of ourselves that are known both to us and to others. We also have private thoughts and experiences that we choose not to share. Most intriguing, however, is what psychologists call the blind spot. These are the characteristics, behaviors, and patterns that others can see but we cannot.

Early in our careers, blind spots are often easier to uncover. Managers provide direction. Colleagues offer observations. Performance reviews highlight strengths and development opportunities. Whether we welcome it or not, there are usually people willing to tell us how they experience us and what they believe we should improve.

As careers advance, that dynamic often changes. Relationships become more professional. Expertise increases. Independence becomes valued. People who are viewed as capable and successful are often given greater autonomy and fewer direct challenges. The assumption is that they know what they are doing. The reality is that none of us ever sees ourselves completely.

One of the best leaders I ever worked for often described me as a Maserati. Her view was that I performed best when given room to operate independently. Rather than trying to manage every detail, she focused on creating the conditions where I could succeed. It was an approach that worked well for me, and I remain grateful for the trust she placed in me.

At the same time, I have come to appreciate that autonomy and development do not always travel together. The more independent we become, the fewer opportunities there may be for coaching. The more others view us as self-sufficient, the less likely they may be to offer observations that challenge our thinking or help us grow. We may continue performing effectively while remaining unaware of how certain behaviors are experienced by others.

Looking back, I also wonder whether I always made coaching easy. Some leaders are naturally receptive to guidance. Others are more independent. They prefer to test ideas for themselves, question assumptions, and understand the reasoning before accepting the conclusion. Those qualities can be valuable, particularly in complex organizations where independent thinking is necessary. They can also create unintended barriers to learning.

It is possible to value development while still resisting coaching. Sometimes we believe we already have enough context to make the right decision. Sometimes we question whether the person offering advice fully understands the situation. Sometimes we prefer relationships built on mutual influence rather than instruction. None of these responses necessarily come from arrogance. They may come from confidence, experience, or a strong preference for autonomy. Yet they can still limit what we learn from others.

I occasionally wonder whether there were moments when people chose not to push harder because they assumed I had already made up my mind. I wonder whether feedback that could have been useful was softened, abbreviated, or never offered at all. More importantly, I wonder whether I unknowingly contributed to that outcome. Blind spots are not always created because people refuse to tell us the truth. Sometimes they emerge because others conclude we are unlikely to hear it.

This challenge becomes even more significant for senior leaders. As authority increases, honest feedback often decreases. People edit their comments. Difficult messages are softened. Some observations are never voiced. Over time, leaders can become increasingly dependent on their own perceptions of reality, even when those perceptions are incomplete.

The older I get, the less interested I am in pretending that self-awareness is a destination. It seems more accurate to think of it as a practice. We learn. We gain experience. We develop expertise. Yet there will always be aspects of ourselves that remain difficult to see clearly. The goal is not perfect self-knowledge. The goal is remaining curious enough to keep looking.

The dream may have meant nothing at all. Dreams often do. The question it raised, however, has stayed with me. What might others know about us that we have never fully seen ourselves, and what would we learn if we became genuinely curious about the answer?

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