You need fewer instruments in your hands, because you are not, in fact, an octopus. If that line hits a nerve, it’s because you can already feel the strain in your fingers. The ones gripping the mouse, the spreadsheet, the stakeholder feelings, and the invisible baton of “I guess I’ll just handle it.”
Thank you for reading this post, don't forget to subscribe!End of year makes everything louder. Deadlines become fire-breathing dragons and somehow the work you love becomes the work you do at 10:47 pm, with one eye open and a level of patience that could be measured in grains of sand. But let’s talk turkey now that Thanksgiving has passed.
Sometimes the reason you’re holding so many instruments isn’t because nobody else can play… it’s because you like the sound of your own hands on the keys.
NOT in an ego way, IN A craft way. IN A, “this is my favorite part of the work” way. IN A, “this is the part that makes me feel competent and calm and a little electric” way. And then leadership shows up like a bouncer.
Because the next level isn’t “add more instruments.”
It’s “build a band.” Which means trusting other people with the work. Internally and externally. People who are genuinely excellent but who might do it differently than you, better than you, which is somehow both the goal and emotionally offensive.
I recently started working with a developer on work I’ve handled myself for years. Not because I can’t do it. Because I can, and I enjoy it because I know every tiny lever and trick. But loving a skill does not mean it’s still the best use of my time. And “I’ve always done it” is not a strategy. It’s a habit wearing a bad blazer, and if you know me you KNOW I don’t do bad blazers.
Also, my developer has a level of talent that makes my approach look like I’m carving the software with a spoon. Respectfully.
And now add this: I’m also overseeing areas of the business where I don’t know the inner wiring yet. Give me Education, HR, and Project work all day. But Communications and Content Strategy have their own physics; not to mention a different tempo, instruments, and silences that mean things. Which is humbling AND useful.
Because it forces the real shift: I can’t be both the performer and the entire backstage crew while also learning a new score. If I want the music to hold, I have to let other people play the parts they’re built for, while I get fluent enough in the new ones to lead well.
But delegating sounds simple until you try it and it turns into a tiny identity crisis. So these are my end-of-year resolutions:
- Let go of the work I love so I can protect the work only I can do.
- Make space for other people’s brilliance, even when it bruises my pride.
Because the real flex is not being the octopus. It’s building a system where the music doesn’t stop if you put an instrument down.
So, what “instrument” are you still holding because you love it (not because you should)?
