Quackenbush Coaching LLC

The Subtle Saboteur

“Why Am I Training My Boss?” and the Stories We Tell Ourselves

There’s a sentence I hear often in coaching conversations. It’s usually said quietly, sometimes with humor, sometimes with frustration.

“Why am I training my boss to do their job?”

On the surface, it sounds like a reasonable complaint. Underneath it, though, lives a story that can quietly undermine leadership, culture, and even our own credibility if we don’t examine it.

This is what I call the subtle saboteur.

Not a person.

A narrative.

Naming the irritation

Let’s be honest. Being asked to orient, onboard, or train someone who now sits above you can feel irritating. It can feel humbling. For some, it can even feel embarrassing.

Especially when:

You’ve been with the organization for years
You know the systems inside and out
Others may assume you “should” have the role

Those feelings are human. They deserve acknowledgment.

But what we do with them matters.

What you are actually being asked to do

When a new manager, supervisor, or executive comes in from the outside, they are not being hired for their ability to run your specific system on day one.

They are hired for an umbrella role.

Leadership includes:

Decision-making
Strategy
Accountability
Managing humans
Culture, morale, and trust
Legal, ethical, and operational oversight

What you are teaching them is one rib of that umbrella.

Context. Nuance. How this organization works.

You are not training them to do their job.

You are orienting them to yours.

That distinction matters.

When resentment replaces curiosity

In many of these situations, one of two things is true.

Either the person did not apply for the role,

or they did apply and were passed over.

Both experiences can sting.

But resentment keeps us stuck. Curiosity moves us forward.

If you didn’t apply, it’s worth asking why.

If you did and were passed over, it’s worth understanding what the organization needed that went beyond technical expertise.

That information is data, not a verdict on your worth.

The toxic ripple (where leadership shows up without a title)

This is the part that often goes unnamed.

When a tenured employee voices resentment about “training their boss,” they are not just expressing a feeling. They are setting a tone.

Some people around them recognize the influence and weight they carry.

Others don’t consciously name it, but they feel it.

Either way, culture is being shaped in real time.

Influence can be used to:

Steady a team
Humanize a transition
Create psychological safety

Or it can quietly sabotage it.

This is where the Golden Rule becomes a leadership practice, not a cliché.

If empathy replaced anger for a moment, the question would shift from:

“Why am I training them?”

To:

“If this were me walking into an unfamiliar system, how would I want to be received?”

Because first impressions ripple outward.

A leader can walk into a department already disliked, not because of who they are, but because resentment arrived before they did.

That is power.

And power deserves care.

Weaponizing influence, intentionally or not, rarely harms just the target. It damages trust, morale, and the very culture people say they want to protect.

Instead of:

“I’m training them to do their job.”

Try:

“I’m helping them understand how this organization works.”
“My knowledge is operational. Theirs is organizational.”
“This is influence, not subordination.”

Sometimes the work isn’t fixing the situation.

It’s fixing the story we’re telling ourselves about it.

That’s leadership maturity.

With or without the title.

#LeadershipDevelopment #ProfessionalGrowth #OrganizationalCulture #Influence #EmotionalIntelligence #WomenInLeadership

When Illness Becomes the Mirror, A Family Reflection

There are seasons in life that slow us down, whether we ask for it or not.

Here in the Midwest, a heavy snowstorm has wrapped the world in stillness. Roads quiet. Calendars loosen. Time stretches. And in that quiet, reflection finds its way in.

My mother is engaged in the fight of her life.

My mother is engaged in the fight of her life. And it dawned on me that this is not new for her. Born in rural Louisiana in the 1940s, she has been fighting her entire life. Fighting systems that were never designed to protect her. Fighting sexism. Fighting poverty. Fighting abuse. Fighting to be seen, to be safe, to be heard. Fighting for her children. Fighting for her partners. Fighting to survive in a world that required her strength long before it ever offered her softness. Since 1947, fighting has been her language, her posture, her way through. And now she is fighting again.

This realization has shifted something in me. It does not excuse moments when she says something sharp or cruel. In those moments, it becomes clear that she is fighting for control, for dignity, for herself, and whether she realizes it or not, she no longer has the capacity to cushion the impact. Seeing this helps me hold both truth and compassion at the same time.

Cancer is not just a diagnosis. It is a reckoning. It forces conversations we avoid, emotions we tuck away, and truths we would rather not name. It stirs thoughts about mortality, meaning, relationships, and the legacy we leave behind, both spoken and unspoken.

As I watch my mother navigate this battle, I find myself thinking about her children, all five of us, a small tribe shaped by the same woman, the same household, the same love, and the same wounds.

What strikes me most is this: we all inherited something from her.

Not everything, but something dominant.

One of us carries worry and crippling anxiety. That one is me.

Another carries what I gently call the collection gene, a deep need to hold onto things, not from excess, but from an old fear of not having enough. I see echoes of an era where scarcity shaped survival. I do not diagnose. I simply observe with compassion.

One sibling has mastered avoidance, the art of not seeing what hurts, as if closing one’s eyes could make reality soften.

Another sibling does what I call ‘loving distance,’ which is to remove themselves from anything that even hints at discomfort or emotional harm.

And then there is the youngest, the peacemaker, the one who just wants everyone to get along, who longs for harmony even when the cost is personal truth.

None of these traits is inherently bad. They were adaptive. They were protective. They made sense once.

But here is the harder truth: none of us uses them in ways that truly serve ourselves or one another anymore.

Illness has a way of pulling back the curtain.

When someone we love is sick, especially when the outcome is one we all quietly understand, patterns intensify. Fear sharpens. Tempers flare. Old coping mechanisms come roaring back. Even the person who is ill may show sides of themselves shaped by pain, grief, and loss of control.

This does not make anyone bad.

It makes us human.

But being human does not mean becoming an emotional landfill.

There is a difference between holding space and being used as a dumping ground. There is a difference between compassion and self-abandonment. Caregiving, whether direct or emotional, is exhausting. The logistics alone are overwhelming. Appointments. Decisions. Rearranging life. Holding everyone else’s emotions while managing your own.

We must make room for irritability. We must soften toward grief. We must allow people grace in moments when they are not at their best.

And still, boundaries matter.

Illness does not give anyone the right to unload unchecked anger, resentment, or fear onto a single person again and again. Love does not require martyrdom. Support does not mean silence. Compassion does not mean collapse.

What this season has taught me is clarity.

I know what I choose.

I know what I see.

I know what I can offer.

I am holding space for my siblings. I hold it with intention and care. Whether they step into it or not is their choice. My responsibility is not to convince, fix, or carry what is not mine.

If you are part of a family walking through illness, especially something as consuming as cancer, please hear this clearly.

You are not the only one going through this, but neither are you required to carry everyone.

And if you are the one living with the illness, please hear this too. You are not walking through this alone, even when it feels that way. Your entire family is navigating this with you, each in their own imperfect, human way. You still have a choice in how you spend your energy, your words, and your time. None of this asks you to perform strength or pretend gratitude. It simply invites awareness. The way you move through this season shapes the moments you share, and those moments matter, for you and for those who love you.

If it is possible to talk with one another, to get on the same page as siblings, it can be deeply grounding. Sometimes grief isolates us without our realizing it, each person assuming they are alone in their fear. Opening that door may surprise you. I know my sisters have been my rock, and standing together has brought tremendous comfort. And still, you know your terrain. If those conversations are not possible or not safe, do not beat yourself up. Discernment is not failure.

Talk to someone. Do not do this alone. There are support groups, caregiver circles, and foundations that offer free, compassionate spaces for those supporting someone through serious illness. Just as families affected by substance abuse use have their own support systems, caregivers and loved ones of cancer patients deserve the same care.

Your feelings matter.

Your exhaustion is real.

Your boundaries are valid.

Illness reveals what needs tending, in families, in relationships, and in ourselves. If you notice patterns tightening rather than loosening, reach out for help. Reflection is powerful, but healing happens in connection.

This season has made me more determined, not to control what I cannot, but to reclaim the small, vital agency that remains.

To love deeply.

To stay honest.

To hold space without disappearing.

And to remember, caregiving includes caring for yourself.

If this resonates, you are not alone. And if today all you can do is name what you see, that is already a beginning.

When Was the Last Time You Actually Tasted Your Food

When was the last time you actually tasted your food?

Not ate it.

Not inhaled it between meetings.

Not scrolled through your phone while chewing.

Tasted it.

The sauce.

The salt.

The time it took.

If you’ve ever made a meal from scratch, especially a sauce, you know this kind of tasting isn’t casual. It’s intentional. Tomatoes simmered slowly. Garlic softened just enough. Herbs added with care. If you grew those tomatoes yourself, the experience deepens. You’re not just consuming food. You’re witnessing effort, patience, and presence.

And yet, most days, we don’t do that anymore.

We eat transactionally.

We drink coffee transactionally.

We order transactionally.

Eyes down. Words rushed. Gratitude skipped.

We don’t look at the person taking our order. We don’t pause long enough to see them as a human being doing something for us. Food becomes fuel. People become functions. Moments become items on a checklist.

Our tongues were never meant only for volume.

Yes, our voices help us speak and be heard. The voice box creates sound. But the tongue plays a quiet, essential role in shaping words, forming sounds, and allowing language to be understood. It helps us articulate, soften, and clarify what we’re trying to say.

And it does something even more intimate.

It translates the world for us.

Sweet.

Salty.

Bitter.

Sour.

Umami, which is the savory, rich taste found in things like tomatoes, mushrooms, cheese, and slow cooked sauces.

Taste buds send signals to the brain that help release pleasure chemicals and activate memory. Taste is one of the fastest pathways we have to remembering where we’ve been and how we felt when we were there.

For many of us, that memory is simple and tender. Standing on a chair as a child, waiting to lick the spoon while someone baked. The anticipation. The sweetness. The feeling of being included in something loving and homemade. One taste can bring back decades in an instant.

And when food is bad, truly bad, it can do the opposite. It can sour a mood. Disrupt a day. Leave a residue that lingers longer than it should.

That’s how powerful tasting is.

Which makes it striking how casually we’ve treated it.

We rarely think about how we taste, or that we can taste at all. Until it’s gone.

During COVID, many people lost their sense of smell and taste, some temporarily, some for much longer. Imagine biting into a slice of pizza and knowing it should be delicious, but feeling nothing. Imagine a warm pound cake, fragrant with vanilla, moist and tender, and being unable to taste the love baked into it.

That loss reminds us that tasting is a gift.

And when we rush past it, we don’t just miss flavor.

We miss connection.

We miss gratitude.

We miss ourselves.

This habit doesn’t stay at the table.

It quietly spills into the workplace.

When we bark orders instead of making requests.

When “please” and “thank you” disappear.

When we forget to acknowledge the person behind the task.

Yes, the work still gets done.

But it rarely gets done with care.

People don’t give their best work to environments where they feel unseen. Just like a meal eaten without tasting, something essential is lost.

There’s a quote often attributed to Maya Angelou that fits here: people may not remember exactly what you said or did, but they will always remember how you made them feel.

That’s true at the table.

And it’s true in leadership.

So here’s the invitation.

Before your next meal, pause. Taste it. Really taste it.

If someone prepared it for you, thank them out loud.

Look up. Make eye contact. Slow down just enough to notice.

And then ask yourself:

Where else in my life have I stopped tasting?

Where have I turned people into transactions?

Because presence isn’t about long prayers or perfect mindfulness practices.

Sometimes, it starts with pasta.

#LeadershipPresence #HumanCenteredLeadership #MindfulLiving #Gratitude #EmotionalIntelligence

Ally or Adversary: What Workplace Dynamics Reveal About Us

What I learned about loyalty, insecurity, and leadership long before I had the language for it

Some workplaces stay with you long after you’ve left them.

For me, one of those places was the Palmer House Hilton.

A harder truth I had to revisit

It was a formative chapter in my life. A place where I learned how power actually moves. How leadership shows up under pressure. How people behave when growth, recognition, and fear collide.

It was a springboard for who I would eventually become.

It was also where I learned to become the leader I once needed.

At first, the relationships were easy. Collaborative. Supportive. We were building together, learning together, and navigating the work side by side.

And then something shifted.

I began to thrive, especially toward the end of my time there. And I’ve learned that growth has a way of revealing truths that comfort can conceal.

A colleague I once considered a friend, someone who should have been an ally, quietly became an adversary.

Not openly.

Not honestly.

But strategically.

Polite on the surface. Competitive underneath.

At the time, I didn’t fully understand what was happening. I just felt the tension. The subtle undermining. The silence in rooms I wasn’t in. The way my name was spoken differently when I wasn’t there to speak for myself.

Now, years later, I understand it more clearly.

This wasn’t about friendship gone wrong.

It was about insecurity meeting hierarchy.

And that combination fractures workplaces every day.

When I was younger, I carried a belief I didn’t know how to name.

I used to think that every time I worked for a woman, I would suffer.

That was the story young Jewel told herself.

Not because women can’t lead, I am a woman leader. I believe deeply in women leading with power, wisdom, and integrity.

But because many of the women I worked for were navigating systems that made leadership feel like survival. Like proof. Like scarcity.

And in those environments, support can feel risky. Collaboration can feel threatening. And instead of allies, adversaries are unconsciously created.

I didn’t have that language then. I only had the experience.

What I understand now is this:

When systems reward competition over connection, people turn sideways instead of standing together.

What adversarial behavior looks like at work:

Adversaries rarely announce themselves.

They undermine quietly.

They withhold credit.

They participate in gossip disguised as concern.

They align upward while eroding trust sideways.

They stay silent when your name comes up, or worse, pile on.

And when this happens, teams feel it.

Morale drops.

People take sides.

Psychological safety disappears.

This happens everywhere. Hotels. Medical offices. Universities. Creative spaces. Corporate teams. Nonprofits.

Anywhere humans work together.

What allies actually do:

Allies collaborate without keeping score.

They speak your name with integrity in rooms you are not in.

They share credit generously.

They address issues directly.

They protect the team by refusing to participate in gossip.

An ally doesn’t need to be your friend.

They need to be trustworthy.

The question that matters now

Most people don’t see themselves as adversaries.

But behavior always tells the truth before intention does.

If someone else’s growth makes you uneasy

If validation matters more than integrity

If you compete where collaboration would serve

It’s worth asking why.

Not with shame. With honesty.

As we move forward, personally and professionally, clarity matters.

Are you an ally or an adversary?

And who are you choosing to become next?

The Promises We Keep, and the Cycles We Break

Jewel Quackenbush, MCC

A reflection on habits, boundaries, and self trust

Every January, we make promises to ourselves.

Not quietly.

Not casually.

With conviction.

This is the year I change my habits.

This is the year I finally follow through.

This is the year I become who I said I would be.

And then, often just as quietly, we break those promises.

Not because we are lazy.

Not because we lack discipline.

But because many of the promises we make were never designed to survive real life.

James Clear reminds us that we do not rise to the level of our goals. We fall to the level of our systems. Habits shape identity far more than declarations ever will.

Here is the piece we often miss.

When expectations are reasonable, people usually keep them.

Most people don’t fail because they expect too little. They fail because they expect without context. Current lifestyle. Current workload. Current energy. Current season of life never gets invited into the conversation.

Hope gets loud. Reality gets left out of the room.

A familiar example

Every year, I hear some version of this:

“I’m changing my diet. No sugar. No carbs. No alcohol. And I’m working out five days a week.”

In the moment, it feels incredible. Clean. Motivating. Powerful.

But nothing else is considered.

A demanding job.

Caregiving responsibilities.

Sleep debt.

Stress.

Travel.

What has actually been sustainable before.

So the goal isn’t ambitious. It’s disconnected.

When the body can’t keep up, when life intervenes, when energy dips, the goal collapses. Not because the person failed, but because the expectation was never grounded.

And this is where the real damage begins.

The SHAME Cycle

(A Quackenbush Coaching Framework)

In my work as an executive and leadership coach, I see this same pattern over and over. Most people are not failing randomly. They are caught in a cycle they don’t yet have language for.

I call it The S.H.A.M.E. Cycle.

S – Set an unrealistic expectation

Motivation is high. Reality is not consulted.

H – Hit resistance or reality

Life happens. Energy fluctuates. The system proves unsustainable.

A-Assign blame inward

Instead of questioning the goal, the question becomes, “What’s wrong with me?”

M – Move into shame and self criticism

Trust erodes. Motivation drops. The inner dialogue hardens.

E – Either abandon the goal or overcorrect

People quit entirely or swing back to another extreme promise.

And the cycle restarts.

The tragedy is not the missed goal.

The tragedy is that shame convinces us we are the problem, instead of the expectation.

Why shame is such a poor teacher

Shame does not motivate lasting change.

It narrows thinking.

It dysregulates the nervous system.

It disconnects us from curiosity and compassion.

And once shame enters the picture, even reasonable habits start to feel heavy.

So the question becomes not, “How do I push harder?”

But, “How do I design better?”

The TRUST Cycle

To interrupt the SHAME Cycle, a different pattern is required. One rooted in awareness, realism, and self trust.

We call this The T.R.U.S.T. Cycle.

T – Tell the truth about your current reality

Energy, time, stress, capacity, season of life.

R – Right size the expectation

Make it small enough to keep, not impressive enough to abandon.

U – Understand the signal, not just the behavior

Notice urges, resistance, emotions. Where do they live in the body? What are they asking for?

S – Sustain consistency over intensity

Small, repeatable habits build identity and trust.

T – Trust grows through follow through

Each kept promise strengthens the relationship with yourself.

This is not about lowering the bar.

This is about placing it where humans can actually reach it.

Habits don’t only live in behavior

When we talk about habits, most people think of food, exercise, or productivity.

But some of the most important habits are emotional.

How we set boundaries.

How we ask for clarity.

How we speak up when something doesn’t sit right.

How quickly we abandon ourselves to keep the peace.

Every year, people say things like:

“This year, I’m going to be more direct.”

“I’m going to stop letting things slide.”

“I’m going to ask for clarity instead of guessing.”

These are not personality traits. They are practices.

And just like behavioral habits, emotional habits break down when expectations are disconnected from reality.

One of the most common patterns I see is this. Someone sets a boundary, often thoughtfully and clearly. When that boundary is crossed, instead of holding the line, they quietly move it.

Not because they are weak.

But because discomfort shows up.

Fear of conflict.

Fear of being seen as difficult.

Fear of losing connection.

So the promise becomes, “I’ll speak up next time.”

And when next time comes, the cycle repeats.

This is not a character flaw.

It is the SHAME Cycle wearing a different coat.

And the TRUST Cycle applies here too.

Tell the truth about what you actually have the capacity to enforce.

Right size the boundary so it can be held.

Understand the emotion that shows up when it’s tested.

Sustain consistency over intensity.

Let trust grow through follow through.

Boundaries, like habits, are not proven by intention.

They are proven by what we are willing to uphold.

A boundary you won’t hold is not a boundary.

It’s a hope.

A quiet wisdom worth remembering

I recently watched a video describing a Japanese approach to habit change. Instead of fighting habits or pushing them away, the invitation was to notice them.

Where does the urge live in your body?

What does it feel like?

When does it show up?

No forcing.

No shaming.

Just awareness.

This aligns beautifully with behavioral science and coaching practice. What we resist tends to persist. What we bring into awareness often softens.

Anger, numbing, scrolling, snapping, overworking. These are often signals before they are problems.

A different invitation for the new year

This year, I’m not inviting you to make resolutions.

I’m inviting you to make fewer promises, and keep them.

Promises that respect your real life.

Habits that fit your actual energy.

Expectations that build trust instead of eroding it.

Because real change does not come from force.

It comes from relationship.

And the most important relationship you will carry into this new year is the one you have with yourself.

Happy New Year.

Comfort and Joy

(When Comfort Is a Nut Roll, and That’s Perfectly Okay)

Every year around the holidays, Greg and Shannon, “My brothers from another mother,” give us a nut roll.

It has become a tradition. Five years running now. Same gift. Same quiet delight. We have moved to a different state, and they MAKE sure I get it! There is an unspoken understanding that this is not just food. This is care. This is attention. This is love wrapped in wax paper and flaky dough.

In a world where comfort sometimes feels like a scarce commodity, it is okay to hold tight to the little things that bring us warmth. For me, that thing is this nut roll. A treat so special that I have become humorously protective of it. And yes, it is absolutely mine. They even send a smaller one for my husband so he does not feel left out. This detail matters. It tells you everything you need to know about love, foresight, and boundaries done right.

Let me be clear. This nut roll is not to be rushed. It is not to be sliced recklessly. It is not to be offered casually to unexpected visitors. This is sacred pastry territory.

The dough is flaky, tender, and forgiving. Not dry. Not heavy. Just right. The filling is rich and nutty with the perfect balance of sweetness and crunch. Every bite delivers comfort without overwhelm. There is no need to add anything. No glaze. No drizzle. No improvement required. It is complete exactly as it is.

You can smell it before you taste it. That warm, toasted nuttiness that fills the kitchen and slows you down without asking permission. The first bite is quiet. You feel it before you think about it, the soft give of the dough, the way the filling holds together just long enough, the way it lingers. It asks you to stay present. To chew. To notice.

And isn’t life like that sometimes?

When we allow ourselves to slow down, to savor what is in front of us, we realize it does not need fixing, rushing, or explaining. It simply needs our attention.

There are very few things I find comfort in these days, and that makes it even more important to honor the ones that still reach me. This nut roll reminds me that I am loved. That a simple bite can feel like a hug from people who care. That a small, intentional ritual can refill my tank when everything else feels loud or heavy.

And that, right there, is the lesson.

We live in a season that tells us more is better. More giving. More doing. More hosting. More explaining. More tolerant. We stretch ourselves thin in the name of holiday spirit and forget that joy is not supposed to be exhausting.

Some things are not meant to be shared with everyone. Some things are meant to be enjoyed slowly, intentionally, with gratitude. That does not make you selfish. It makes you wise.

So here is the invitation. Find your version of the nut roll. Maybe it is a favorite book, a quiet bath, a handful of chocolates, or a steaming cup of coffee. Let it be something you do not have to share if you do not want to. Let it be a gentle, slightly humorous reminder that a little selfish comfort can be a radical act of self-care.

And because this would not be Quackenbush Coaching without something practical, take a moment today to identify one comfort ritual you can claim as your own. Protect it. Laugh about it. Let it be your hug on a plate.

Comfort and joy are not loud. They do not demand performance. They show up softly, consistently, year after year, and ask only that you receive them.

So this season, I am guarding my nut roll.

And my peace.

And my energy.

With love.

With intention.

With zero apologies.

#HolidaySeason

#EndOfYearReflection

Soul Chemistry

By Jewel Quackenbush MCC

There are people in our lives who do more than accompany us. They regulate us. We breathe differently around them. Our nervous system settles in their presence the way a dog relaxes when the favorite person walks into the room.

I recently came across a short clip with two animated dogs having a surprisingly wise conversation. They were not talking about snacks or tennis balls. They were talking about soul chemistry. The idea that animals, especially dogs, choose their person not because of treats or toys, but because of something much deeper.

When we meet people, our brains, like canine brains, scan for signals of safety. Tone of voice. Body language. Scent. Energy. Micro expressions. The amygdala, our emotional processor, lights up when it senses calm. When someone truly puts our nervous system at ease, a bond forms that is biological in nature.

Heartbeats begin syncing. Breathing patterns align. Stress lowers. Emotional guardrails soften.

It is not clinginess. It is regulation.

And this does not just happen between dogs and humans.

It happens between humans and humans.

Think of the person:

• you would call in the middle of the night

• whose presence drops your blood pressure

• who you do not have to perform for

• whose voice you can recognize in a crowded room

• who makes your body exhale before your mind even catches up

That is soul chemistry.

The Other Side: When Someone Sets Your Nervous System on Fire

Just as there are people who calm us, there are people who ignite anxiety in our bones.

You walk into a room and your stomach tightens.

Your breath shortens.

Your shoulder blades lift.

Your amygdala begins scanning for threat instead of comfort.

This can look like:

• a dismissive manager

• a coworker who is unpredictable

• a partner who is explosive or belittling

• a relative whose presence makes you brace instead of breathe

• a friend who drains you rather than fills you

Sometimes these people do not intend harm. Yet their impact is harm.

Prolonged exposure to emotional stress is measurable. There are medical studies showing that working under an overbearing or psychologically unsafe boss can increase health risks related to blood pressure and heart health. Now apply that same dynamic to:

• a toxic relationship

• a destabilizing household

• a love that feels like walking on glass

• a partnership that erodes the spirit instead of nourishing it

Imagine what that does to your circulatory system.

To your endocrine system.

To your brain’s patterning and wiring.

And imagine the children who grow up absorbing this.

Children whose nervous systems are shaped around emotional volatility.

They do not just remember those experiences.

They become shaped by them.

As a lifelong advocate for emotional self care, I want to say this with love and clarity:

Self care is not candles or spa days or vacations.

Self care is protecting your nervous system.

Self care is noticing whose presence lifts you and whose presence compresses you.

Self care is granting yourself permission to unsubscribe from emotional toxins.

You do not owe anyone access to your peace.

Not if they consistently destabilize it.

The Courage to Choose Safe Souls

If you have someone who calms your spirit, cherish them.

And if you do not, make it a mission to find at least one person in your life you feel safe with. It may be a coach, a therapist, a spiritual guide, a longtime friend, a sibling, a partner, or someone who honors your humanity instead of demanding performance.

Soul chemistry is not sentimental. It is foundational to emotional health and well being.

When someone’s presence brings you peace, your entire body recognizes,

I am safe now.

That is not luck.

That is love meeting neuroscience.

And it is the kind of bond that makes the soul exhale.

Meet Zeus. He is part of my Soul Chemistry.

Rewriting the Finish Line: Entering 2026 With Clarity, Compassion, and Alignment

Every year asks something new of us.
Not louder effort, not tighter pressure, but honest reflection. The kind that invites us to examine who we have become, not just what we have accomplished.

We enter January with big goals, bold lists, and fresh ambition. And somewhere between spring and fall, real life steps in, unexpected, demanding, and deeply human. By the end of the year, many people carry a quiet sense of guilt about the goals they didn’t finish or the intentions that didn’t unfold as they had imagined.

But here is a liberating truth.

Not every goal is meant to be completed. Some were never goals at all.
Some were experiments.
Some were signals.
Some were hopes from an earlier version of you.
Some were simply too heavy, too layered, or too premature for the season you were in.

This is not failure. This is self-awareness.

Let’s shift the question from
“Why didn’t I finish this?”
to
“What was this goal trying to teach me?”

Because when you look closer, every goal completed or not, leaves you with something valuable.

When Humility Becomes a Teacher

One of the most powerful insights I gained this year came from studying the reflections of Jesse Livermore, a legendary early twentieth-century market operator who spent his life learning the hard lessons of discipline and timing. His words were about trading, but the truth underneath them is about life.

He reminded me that confidence doesn’t protect you, and intelligence doesn’t guarantee perfect outcomes.
Sometimes we begin a goal, certain we know what it requires, only to discover we have more learning to do.

Humility isn’t a setback.
It’s a reset.

It helps you see your goals without illusion, without pressure, and without the weight of “I should be further by now.”

The Discipline of Waiting

Most of us love beginnings. We love momentum. But the real work often happens in the quiet middle of waiting, recalibrating, and listening.

Some goals are not incomplete.
They are simply not ripe yet.

Growth often requires pauses.
Not because you’re stuck, but because you’re strengthening.

This is where discipline begins:
Not in the rush, but in the restraint.

As you reflect on your year, ask yourself
Was I avoiding the goal, or was I preparing for it?
Was I procrastinating, or was I aligning?

Waiting is not wasted time when the waiting has purpose.

Alignment: Where Your Next Chapter Begins

There comes a moment, often quietly, when you stop forcing outcomes and start listening to your life.

This is alignment.
It’s the shift from pushing to partnering with your own truth.

You feel which goals still fit, which ones need reshaping, and which ones you can release without guilt. Your intuition gets sharper. Your decisions become simpler. Your next steps become clearer.

This is the stage where your goals line up with who you are becoming, not who you used to be.

And that is where the real transformation begins.

Questions to Carry Into 2026

As you enter the new year, consider these questions:

• Does this goal still belong to me?
• Does it reflect who I am now?
• Is it a true intention or an old obligation?
• Am I forcing this, or does it genuinely align?
• Do I want to carry this forward, reshape it, or release it?

Give yourself permission to choose differently.
Give yourself room to evolve.
Give yourself grace.

Because the finish line is not where success begins.
Success begins when you see yourself clearly,without shame, without pressure, and without comparison.

May 2026 be the year you move with intention, clarity, and compassion.
May every step you take honor your growth, not your guilt.
And may you enter the new year with alignment in your spirit and purpose in your stride.

If You’re Ready to Step Into 2026 with Support

If you would like guidance, clarity, or a partner in your growth next year, I would love to walk that journey with you. You can schedule a session, explore coaching possibilities, or gift coaching to someone you love here: Free Discovery Session With Jewel

💔Acceptance vs. Resistance: What We Lose When We Refuse to Let Go

By Jewel Quackenbush, MCC

I remember standing in my bonus dad’s hospital room. The machines hummed softly, steady and sure, as if unaware that my world was breaking.

He looked peaceful, too peaceful, and I kept thinking if I could just find the right doctor, the right prayer, the right anything, I could fix it.

I fought reality with every ounce of hope I had.

I called specialists, read studies, searched for loopholes in science and faith. But underneath all that effort was fear, fear of losing him, fear of facing life without his steady voice reminding me who I was.

It delays the inevitable, it holds healing hostage, it convinces us that struggle is strength when sometimes it is just fear in disguise.

And here is the truth I learned the hard way: my resistance was not saving him. It was stealing time.

Time we could have spent laughing about old stories, saying what we had never said out loud, or simply sitting together in quiet love.

That is what resistance does.

We resist endings, relationships that have run their course, jobs that drain us, friendships that no longer fit, because letting go feels like failure. We tell ourselves, “What about the children, what about the years?” And deep down, you know that small voice in the back of your mind, the one that keeps whispering you deserve better, that you are not being treated well, has been right all along.

But you quiet it, you push it away because the illusion of what you have invested feels safer than the truth. Only, you are not investing anymore, you are sacrificing. And that sacrifice costs you your peace, your joy, and sometimes even your health.

And sometimes what we have invested keeps us stuck.

What Happens When We Lean Into Acceptance? We Let the Light In.

When we stop fighting reality and begin to lean into acceptance, something powerful happens inside us.

The body begins to soften its defenses. The brain rewires. The amygdala, which once sounded alarms, grows quiet. Cortisol levels lower. Serotonin and dopamine rise. The breath deepens.

Leaning into acceptance is not a passive act. It is an invitation to peace. It is both emotional and biological.

The body remembers safety. The mind expands again. The prefrontal cortex, the part that allows us to reason, create, and connect, comes back online.

Suddenly the language changes from “Why me?” to “What now?”

Vision clears. The glass no longer looks half empty, it looks refillable. We stop clinging and start seeing.

Acceptance does not mean you stop caring. It means you stop holding your breath.

It means you stop wrestling with life and begin working with it.

When we lean into acceptance, the heart steadies, the shoulders drop, and peace finds its place again.

Endings begin to look less like punishment and more like permission, permission to heal, to grow, to love differently.

When Resistance Is Healthy

There are moments when resistance protects what is sacred.

When someone crosses a boundary that violates your values or threatens your safety, resistance is wisdom. It is your nervous system saying, “No, not this.”

Healthy resistance guards your peace.

Unhealthy resistance guards your fear.

The difference is whether you are resisting from integrity or from avoidance.

Learning to tell the difference is where maturity lives.

The Gift of Letting Go

When we release resistance that no longer serves us, the mind clears.

Energy returns. Gratitude grows. The body feels lighter because the heart is no longer carrying what the mind refused to accept.

Acceptance is not giving up. It is growing up.

It is choosing to live freely in the truth rather than trapped in the illusion of control.

Ask yourself today:

“Where am I still resisting what is already true?”

“And what is actually true?”

Because freedom often hides behind the door we have been pushing against.

#Acceptance #Resistance #LetTheLightIn #EmotionalIntelligence #Healing #MindsetShift #Leadership #Resilience #LifeCoaching #QuackenbushCoaching #MCC

✨

Not All Superpowers Require Capes, Some Just Manage Time, Emotions, and Chaos

Which executive superpower drives you, and which one’s holding you back?
Sharpen what empowers. Soften what constrains. The six executive functions behind every leadership move.

The Final Chapter of Our Executive Buzzword Series

This is the last article in our three-part Executive Buzzword Series, a leadership reset disguised as a vocabulary lesson.

We started with Executive Presence, exploring how credibility and confidence are conveyed long before a word is spoken.
Next came Emotional Intelligence vs. Emotional Quotient, where we examined how awareness without empathy can ring hollow.
And now, we close with the quiet powerhouse that ties it all together, Executive Functions: the real-life mental superpowers that help you lead with focus, agility, and grace.

It is a brilliant, much-needed topic that deserves our attention and a bit of clarity.

Your Brain’s Boardroom

Imagine your mind as a high-performance orchestra, or if you prefer, as a boardroom where six department heads run You, Inc.

When they are aligned, the results are powerful; your timing, your tone, and your leadership presence all hit the right notes.
But when one takes over or another stops showing up, everything starts to sound off-key. And being under the zodiac umbrella of Libra, I crave harmony, balance is not optional, it is essential 😉

The question is not whether you have these executive superpowers; you do.
The question is, which ones are conducting the show, and which are playing out of tune?

Executive Function Discovery

Though the idea of self-control is ancient, the scientific term executive function emerged in the 1970s, thanks to neuroscientist Karl Pribram, who linked these abilities to the brain’s prefrontal cortex, the region responsible for regulating thought and behavior.

Before that, neurologists noticed that people with frontal-lobe injuries could still think and speak but lost the ability to plan, prioritize, or manage impulses. Those findings gave rise to the concept of executive control.

Later, psychologists such as Russell Barkley, Miyake, and Friedman expanded the field, proving that these skills, though separate, work together like a team. They called it “unity and diversity.”

So when we talk about executive functions today, we are standing on the shoulders of neuroscience, clinical observation, and cognitive psychology. It is not corporate jargon. It is the architecture of adaptive thinking.

And yes, I know, I am talking about the brain again. But stay with me, because understanding what your brain is doing while you lead is half the secret to leading well.

Number	Superpower	What It Does	When It Goes Too Far or Too Quiet
1	Self-Regulation (Inhibitory Control)	Pausing before reacting, choosing a response over an impulse	Too far: rigid, detached. Too quiet: reactive, volatile.
2	Working Memory	Holding and juggling information in real time	Too far: micromanaging, mental clutter. Too quiet: forgetfulness, confusion.
3	Cognitive Flexibility	Pivoting perspectives, adjusting strategies, staying open	Too far: scattered focus. Too quiet: stubbornness, tunnel vision.
4	Planning and Prioritization	Sequencing goals, structuring action	Too far: overcontrol, burnout. Too quiet: disorganization, chaos.
5	Task Initiation and Persistence	Getting started and finishing what matters	Too far: busyness without purpose. Too quiet: procrastination, avoidance.
6	Emotional Regulation	Managing feelings in self and others with awareness	Too far: emotional numbness. Too quiet: volatility, defensiveness.

Each of these is a leadership muscle.
Some are strong. Some need stretching. Some could use a rest.

Which Ones Drive You, and Which Hold You Back?

Scenario A: The Mid-Level Manager
Maya leads a team of twelve. She is a planner, meticulous, dependable, a master of structure. But when her CEO calls for a sudden pivot, she freezes. Cognitive flexibility is not her strong suit, and when things get heated, her self-regulation slips. Her leadership growth lies not in more structure, but in softer pivots and deeper pauses.

Scenario B: The C-Suite Executive
Carlos is a visionary. His cognitive flexibility shines; he can pivot faster than a tennis pro. But his working memory is overloaded. He forgets threads, metrics, and sometimes people. His team loves his ideas but dreads the follow-through. His next level is discipline, not to cage his creativity, but to make space for it to land.

Both leaders show the same truth: when one function dominates, others weaken. Mastery comes through balance.

Superpower	Tool to Strengthen	When Overused Becomes a Weapon
Self-Regulation	Practice the “Five-Breath Pause” before responding.	Creates fear or emotional distance.
Working Memory	Externalize through mind maps, notes, and visual tracking.	Turns into micromanagement.
Cognitive Flexibility	Ask “What is another way to see this?”	Becomes indecision or inconsistency.
Planning and Prioritization	Follow the 90/10 rule: plan 90 percent, leave 10 percent open.	Becomes rigidity and burnout.
Task Initiation	Pair new habits with existing routines.	Turns into busywork.
Emotional Regulation	Name the emotion before it names you.	Slips into emotional suppression.

Leadership’s Dark Side: Weaponized Strengths

Leadership’s shadow shows up when we turn gifts into weapons.
Your ability to stay composed can lead to emotional distance.
Your clarity can turn into control.
Your flexibility can become fickleness.

The promise here is simple: you will not weaponize your gifts.
Your executive functions exist to serve humanity, not to suppress it.

A Grounded Practice

Before your next meeting, take sixty seconds to pause and ask yourself,
Which of my executive superpowers am I leading with today?
Which one do I need to sharpen?
Which one do I need to soften?

That pause alone strengthens the muscle of self-regulation, and that is where sustainable leadership begins.

Reflection

As we close this Executive Buzzword trilogy, we have moved from

Executive Presence — how you show up.
Emotional Intelligence and EQ — how you connect.
Executive Functions — how you think, plan, and lead.

Leadership is not about capes or titles.
It is about knowing which of your powers to use, when to rest them, and how to lead with both structure and soul.

The true executive does not just function; they flourish.

#Leadership #ExecutiveCoaching #EmotionalIntelligence #NeuroscienceOfLeadership #MindfulLeadership #CoachQuack #QuackenbushCoaching #WomenInLeadership #SelfRegulation #AuthenticLeadership