Prelude

X.1 Vignette

I am sitting in the room waiting. It feels large and it feels empty and I can hear all the noise from the corridor outside.

This is our final coaching session.

The leader arrives and sits opposite me. The door closes and silences the noise. The room feels suddenly full. It is almost as if the moment the door closed the world ceased to exist and all that does exist is what is present here. This is a single moment in time. It feels very familiar and yet so much still feels unknown. The air carries a sense of both completion and anticipation.

The small table that sits ready to hold what we may not, is waiting.

I think for a moment about the dynamic we have created, I think about how the rhythm of how we worked together has felt at times fluent and at times awkward. I can’t help but wonder that in order to survive whether if we have become too predictable and too accustomed to each other’s steps. There have been blocks and detours, frustrations and breakthroughs. It has not been easy and yet, through all of it, we have both shown up and we have both stayed in the work.

There were times when the space between us felt defended when it was filled with humour, analysis or polite agreement. We found unexpected ways of protecting what felt too raw to touch. Today it feels different. It feels less inhibited. What was once held tightly now feels closer to the surface, it feels exposed and it feels safe.

This is an ending and it is also a beginning. There is relief and there is trepidation. There is everything and nothing. All at once. And all of it is felt. We have created safety and we have created fear. The polarities, the love and the hate, the strength and the weakness, the clarity and the confusion. Everything is present and yet nothing exists. Being and becoming. We co-exist.

This is our final coaching session. Part of me is ready to close and part of me wants to hold on a little longer.

The mirrors have been the constant throughout. One sits to my side, carrying both our reflections and bearing silent witness to all that has unfolded. It has remained still and full of knowing. The second stands beside the leader; watching us quietly; watching us carefully; ensuring we are both seen. The focus shifts gently in and out, following a rhythm that feels both deliberate and natural.

As I look again at the mirrors, I sense something more than our reflections. Something beyond either of us. It feels as though the space itself has taken on form, a presence quietly holding what has been created between us. The mirrors have done their work. They have allowed us to see and to be seen. They have shown us what can no longer be unseen or ignored. They have held the contradictions of our work, the ease and the struggle, the courage and the fear, and reflected them back to us.

It strikes me how what is present between us also belongs to the system beyond this room. The system that doesn’t exist. The hesitations. The hopes. The weight of expectation. The learning that is emerging here is not contained by this space alone. It has moved through us, between us, and around us. We have shaped the space, and in return, the space has shaped us.

The silence that follows is loud and peaceful all at once. There is no need to fill it because it is already full, with all that has been said and all that has been sensed.

The small table sits ready to hold what we may not, is still waiting.

The mirrors stand still, holding traces of what has passed between us. What was once fragmented now feels whole. The room is quiet, it feels changed, it is holding this single moment.

This ending has become the beginning. The learning will travel with us both, carried in the rhythm between ‘Self’ and ‘Other’ and into the worlds we each return to.

X.1.1 Why begin here?

The vignette that opens my thesis is drawn from the final coaching session in Phase 4, which marked the end of my formal data collection. Beginning with this ending helped me return to the point where experience, reflection and learning were present together. I did not recognise the importance of this scene until I began to write. When I revisited the image, I realised it captured the essence of what my study meant to me. It revealed how meaning and transformation are created through relationship. What began as a record of a final conversation became a way of understanding how the coach and leader shape and are shaped by each other through the work.

The dilemma I had held for many years before starting my research had intrigued me, frustrated me and confused me. Why do insights that can feel so real, so meaningful and so inspiring when generated, not always transform into action?

Rationally, shouldn’t it be as easy as ‘knowing’ something and then ‘doing’ something and yet my experience continuously told me otherwise. The space between knowing and doing, therefore became the central question of my research. It grows out of moments that trace relationships between clarity and commitment, reflection and risk, and the transition from seeing differently to leading differently. It asks about the relational effort required to bridge the gap between insight and action.

The mirrors in the vignette symbolise mutual influence and remind me that coaching is never neutral (Armstrong 2005).

As my inquiry developed, I began to experience the gap between insight and action as a relational field, co-created through the exchange between leader and coach, between ‘Self’ and ‘Other’. Within this relatedness, new possibilities for action emerged, and it is in these dynamics, that I came to understand more deeply what it means to lead and to coach differently. From that moment I knew I needed to look more closely at my own practice and what that shaped it; how I came to coaching, the responsibilities I carried, and what prompted me to study my own work.

X.2 A practice-led study into the responsibility of coaching

I did not plan to become a leadership coach. It happened gradually through conversations with leaders who found value in how we made sense of their challenges. What started informally evolved into a coaching practice as I kept finding myself drawn into conversations where leaders were reflecting, developing and uncovering new possibilities in how they thought and acted.

As these interactions became more frequent, I began to appreciate the emotional significance of what leaders entrusted to me. They shared more than problems to be solved and often revealed deeply personal concerns about who they were, how they related to others and the responsibilities they carried. These conversations appeared to be meaningful to the leaders and yet what followed was often unpredictable. This left me wondering about why this was happening, what role did I have in it and how I may have been contributing to it (Argyris 1982).

As leaders continued to trust me with helping them with their complex situations, I felt a greater responsibility to understand my work more fully and be more intentional in how I practised. As I did, I began to see that the difficulty of moving from awareness into action reflected broader systemic challenges, particularly in how organisations support or constrain change. That realisation is what led me to undertake this practice-led study. This thesis is driven by my personal and professional curiosity, and it is carried out on behalf of the leaders and organisations I work with, in recognition of the complexity we share.

Over the last thirty years I have explored a wide range of coaching approaches, particularly those established in adult development (Torbert & Cook 2004; Kegan & Lahey 2009) and organisational and coaching psychology (Schein 2010; Hawkins & Smith 2013; Bachkirova et al. 2014). While each offered valuable perspectives, none seemed to fully explain the complexity I encountered in practice. My starting point was to work within existing frameworks and as my coaching developed, I began working across frameworks in the hope of finding what genuinely supported change and over time an intuitive way of working gradually took shape.

My research adopts a practice-led, constructivist-interpretivist approach. I began without predetermined outcomes, allowing my inquiry to evolve through my own coaching practice. Insights were generated through engagement in coaching sessions, cycles of reflection, interviews, and creative explorations. As my research unfolded, my focus shifted from methods and techniques toward presence and relational awareness. This shift opened a more nuanced inquiry into how the dynamics between coach and leader shape the movement from insight-to-action (Armstrong 2005).

Through my research, I have discovered many possible ways to research and practice leadership coaching across various traditions and frameworks. There are numerous methods and rich data available to draw upon. I want to acknowledge that whilst there are many ways to work through my research I have chosen to not evaluate every available coaching method, paradigm or practice nor will I compare specific coaching tools that are used within systems psychodynamics (SP), neuroscience (NS) or action methodologies (AM). I am choosing to focus on how the underlying dynamics of these methods, combined with my practice, can inform a coaching stance that helps leaders turn insight into meaningful action (Revans 2011; Raelin 2019).

I am sharing this work as a narrative that is grounded in my lived experience and professional responsibility. My hope is that it resonates with others navigating the complexities of participating in meaningful change. I invite readers to reflect on the responsibilities we hold as coaches, on the systemic contexts we inhabit, and on the possibilities that open when experience is treated as a valuable source of knowledge. Ultimately, my thesis investigates what becomes possible when we attend to two things: (1) how we work with change, and (2) how our stance and presence shape the conditions that enable (or inhibit) that change.

X.2.1 The shift in focus

As I returned to the coaching dilemma that I had held for a long time, where leaders described what had to be different, where the novel ideas they offered seemed tangible and yet weeks afterward, the very same leaders reappeared still caught up by their old practices and by the demands of their organisation, I would often find myself completely perplexed. What was so troubling about this was that the issue did not appear to be caused by their lack of care or understanding there was something else was going on in the crucial interval between knowing and doing (Argyris & Schön 1978).

What came to mind initially was that the answers would lay in improving my coaching approach and in strengthening the leaders capacity to turn insights into sustained action. I imagined my research would identify the ways I could create better conditions to enable the leader to build and maintain behaviour change. As I investigated further, through reading, reflecting on my own practice, and talking with other coaches and leaders who had experienced coaching, I began to see the problem from another angle. The leader’s growth seemed to depend on their actions and also on how I conducted myself, from the moment I opened the coaching conversation to how I managed the tension in the room (Armstrong 2005). This realisation, when I thought back to sessions where the insights had felt meaningful and yet the behaviour did not visibly change was not comfortable. It was easier to dismiss this as the leaders problem and not the relatedness between us.

I became more aware that the transition from increasing self-awareness to creating change didn’t follow a straight line. The change seemed to occur in the way the leader and I worked together and the coaching environment that we created was critical. The timing of a challenge, the clarity with which resistance was named, the steadiness with which experiences were contained, and the extent to which crucial insights were noticed (or missed) all shaped the outcome (Argyris 1976). This realisation changed the direction of my research and moved from focusing on the leaders behaviour to focusing on the coaching alliance itself.

In response, I became more mindful of the way I behaved during sessions and what was transpiring between us. I questioned myself if I challenged too quickly or hesitated too long, whether I filled silences too readily and in doing so missed deeper exploration. I paid attention to what I did myself, observing when I made advances, when I restrained myself, and how the options influenced what was possible.

In the process, an unconscious, intuitive way of being emerged, one that I have come to call the ‘Other’ stance. It grew out of experience and by working alongside leaders in complex circumstances. It took shape through the practice of holding, provoking questions, attentive presence, deliberate silence and a willingness to stay close until something new could surface.

This stance recognises that genuine transformation depends on relatedness and contexts where insights are tested and brought into real-world experiences (Raelin 2019).

I then began concentrating on creating conditions under which leaders are able to make meaningful changes. By making this transition, I was able to consider coaching as less as a set of interventions and more as a co-created field of inquiry. I was able to think about the coaching presence as courageous enough to ask what actually must change and reflective enough to notice how the quality of engagement between coach and leader influences what is possible.

X.3 Where this work draws from

An important part of this practice-led process was to revisit how my practice had evolved. This has led me to revisit the core frameworks and traditions that have shaped, and limited, the different aspects of my coaching practice. The first, action methodologies (AM) emphasise to me that learning occurs through lived experimentation. The second, systems psychodynamics (SP) can bring attention to unconscious and systemic dynamics. And the third, neuroscience (NS) can offer insights into how change becomes embodied and sustained. Each of these perspectives enrich the way I understand the transformation of insight-to-action. As I experienced working with each one I also noticed what they each left unclear. In the following subsections, I will explain how each one informed my changing perspective from my beginnings as a coach and how each one’s limitations also gave me the impetus to pursue my research.

X.3.1 Action methodologies

As I was developing my practice as a coach, I encountered a set of methods that viewed real-world experiences as the primary location for learning. The methods were action research, action learning, and action science (Lewin 1946; Revans 2011; Raelin 2019). What appealed to me was their shared assumption that what we know and how we learn is result of real-time experimentation instead of abstract theorising.

When working as a coach I had often noticed that insight would spark moments of clarity that later faded. What helped me understand this process was the work of (AM) that showed me learning is never complete, and it must be tested against the complex realities of organisational life.

Revans’ (2011) action learning cycles, where leaders worked on real problems in peer groups and committed to processes of action and reflection, was an illustration of the process to translate theoretical ideas into practice. This I felt supported the distinction made by Argyris and Schön (1978) between single loop and double loop learning. They explain that single loop learning is error correction without questioning the underlying assumptions, whilst double loop learning questions the beliefs that shaping actions. This distinction help explained why some leaders only made superficial changes by adjusting surface behaviour, whereas others, presented with the possibility for more nuanced reflection, achieved more meaningful and enduring changes.

While action methodologies encouraged leaders to experiment and then reflect, I continued to notice that the insights that emerged did not always lead to sustained change. In many cases, enthusiasm for new structures and experiments faded once the initial energy passed. This left me wondering why this was happening when the will to change seemed to be present.

The approach of (AM) encouraged leaders to experiment. However, it did not appear to fully capture the emotional dynamics and identity-based anxieties that often-sustained existing behaviours. What I began to see was that the barriers were not only practical they were also emotional. Some leaders seemed caught between the desire to act and a deeper pull to maintain stability. As I explored this further, the challenges often appeared less about strategy and more about identity, belonging, competence, and safety. These observations suggested that even within action-oriented frameworks, there were dynamics at play that held back conscious intention.

Through this process, I began to understand these small experiments as forms of inquiry, they were opportunities to observe how ideas were tested and refined in real situations and how the leaders mindsets evolved through engagement with uncertainty and learning. The leaders and I would ask exploratory questions such as: What might be attempted? What could we learn from trying? What would it mean to begin? These conversations often served as a form of co-design, enabling leaders to take greater ownership of the actions they wished to pursue, and the conditions needed to sustain them. The experiments were not always successful, yet they created disruptions, surfaced unexpected patterns, and revealed questions that could not have been reached through theory alone.

This challenged my paradigm, and I realised that my role was not to drive action directly it was to support leaders in designing and observing their own experiments. This required me to resist the urge to intervene too quickly. It meant creating the space to hold uncertainty, advocate my thinking, support exploration, and approach each coaching conversation as an unfolding inquiry, guided by the understanding of (AM) that learning is always mutual and never complete. Each experience offered new information and insight, giving both of us more to reflect on, adapt, and build from in the next encounter.

Even with these strengths (AM) did not fully explain why leaders sometimes stalled despite their clarity and intention. This limitation prompted me to explore perspectives that could make sense of the hidden forces operating beneath the surface of behaviour.

X.3.2 Systems psychodynamics

My introduction to (SP) came from participating in group relations conferences, Tavistock-style programs and (SP) workshops. These experiences were different from anything I had encountered before; they were disorientating and more often than not they were unsettling. However, over time they helped me see more clearly what I had long felt in my coaching work, that much of what happens between people is shaped by what sits beyond the surface.

The more I spent time in these experiences, the more I understood the language and the paradigm that (SP) offered for things I had only intuited. I was learning how unconscious processes such as projection, transference, and defence can shape organisational life (Obholzer & Roberts 1994; Armstrong 2005). Drawing from psychoanalytic thought, systems theory, and group relations practice, (SP) gave me a framework for recognising the emotional and relational patterns already present in my work.

As a response, I started to experience my coaching differently. The leaders were not simply individuals seeking change; they were participants in systems influenced by history, culture, role, and belonging. I began to recognise that I was also part of these systems and that we were all shaping and being shaped by them.

This perspective then deepened how I understood resistance. I was learning that my hesitation or reluctance was often more than fear or avoidance. It could be a way of maintaining balance when change threatened something important to my sense of self or place in the system. What looked like stuckness often represented an unconscious attempt to preserve a sense of safety. Change seemed to risk unsettling the patterns that were helping to contain anxiety and maintain stability.

This pushed me to pay closer attention to my own reactions when coaching. I often ask myself: When am I holding back from challenging? When do I align too quickly? When do I avoid naming something uncomfortable? These reflections help me see moments when my own feelings and assumptions are shaping or being shaped by the process. Recognising this helps me pause, stay with uncertainty, and sort what belongs to me from what belongs to the wider system (Armstrong 2005).

(SP) also brought with it practical ideas that offered useful guides, such as double-task awareness, systemic role analysis, and attention to boundaries. What changed most for me, however, was not about tools, it was how I positioned myself. (SP) encouraged me to treat each coaching encounter as a shared space where anxiety could be contained and where simply noticing what was happening could be an intervention in itself.

With time, I became more curious about silence, emotional shifts, and the unconscious roles that both the leader and I took up. I began to see how many of our conversations often reflected what was happening across the wider organisation and within the systems of which we were both a part. I was learning that insight without containment could overwhelm, and that naming certain dynamics could stir strong emotions. Coaching began to feel less like applying methods and more like being present with complexity and learning alongside others.

Even with these insights, I noticed that (SP) did not always lead to visible change. Leaders could become more self-aware and still return to routine patterns. This tension continues to intrigue me, drawing my attention to other perspectives that may explain how embodied and biological processes sustain habits, even when the desire for change is strong.

X.3.3 Neuroscience

My own fascination with neuroscience (NS) began when I became curious about the extent to which the brain is responsible for human behaviour. I wondered whether (NS) could provide further understanding into why, despite not appearing to be avoidant or disconnected, leaders who experienced what felt like deep insights would still relapse into old patterns of behaviour. This led me to question whether simply knowing better is ever enough to support lasting change.

(NS) did offer a compelling direction for this inquiry. I was particularly drawn to research on habit and neuroplasticity, which describes how behaviour and experience become imprinted in the nervous system through repeated exposure and practice. The more I read, the more I recognised that behaviour is shaped in and through the whole body and it is not simply a product of thought or intention.

Embodied cognition theorists, such as Cozolino (2016), have articulated how lasting psychodynamic change depends on the intimate intermingling of neural networks responsible for associative, physical, and social experience. Boyatzis and Jack (2018) add to this by showing that leadership development engages these interconnected emotional and social neural systems, especially when development is anchored in vision, values, and resonance rather than narrow problem-solving. Their research demonstrates that activating brain networks for empathy, openness, and self-directed growth is critical to meaningful and sustained behavioural change, an observation that strongly mirrored my own experience in coaching practice. Lasting transformation only seemed to embed when leaders engaged emotionally and physically in new behaviour and not just intellectually.

I attended several workshops, hosted and held conversations with neuroscientists, read broadly and participated in neuro-informed coaching sessions. These interventions in my own learning provided me with a lived experience of how stress could inhibit reflective thought and constrain a person’s perspective. The work of LeDoux’s (2015) and his research on the amygdala strongly resonated with me, it illustrated that avoidance is often a manifestation of physiological self-defence rather than simple resistance. What might have appeared to be reluctance was, in reality, the nervous system signalling that there was an absence of sufficient safety for progress. Similarly, Hebb’s principle, “neurons that fire together wire together” (Hebb 2005), confirmed my frequent observation in coaching that real change demands both practice and repetition.

These revelations further influenced my coaching practice. I felt I was getting closer to understanding the reasons behind why it was difficult to translate insight into new behaviours during stress and high-pressure situations and the significance of the role of safety and repetition in enabling or inhibiting this translation. This raised additional inquiries: If the brain retains and reactivates previously established behavioural patterns long after they are no longer beneficial, what facilitates leaders in their continued engagement with new behaviours until such practices become ingrained? What factors hinder the prolonged implementation of newly acquired learning?

I started to imagine the coaching context as a space for learning that extended to the whole person and not just intellectual activity. It became necessary for leaders to be able to try out new behaviour in a safe environment, to encounter real challenges, and to engage in cycles of repetition and reflection. This insight further altered my thinking around coaching models; I became further attentive to the repeated practices, feedback processes, and safe repetitions that enable deep change.

Even with these observations, it was clear that neuroscience alone could not provide the complete answer. Understanding the brain did not automatically result in the formation of new habits. Without ongoing support, iterative action, and accountability structures leaders could easily lapse back into ingrained patterns especially in times of stress. This led me to wonder what else is required to turn meaningful insight into sustained behavioural action.

Across these three traditions, I found perspectives and practices that profoundly informed my approach to coaching. Yet, each tradition alone continued to leave questions unresolved. Whilst (AM) fostered experimentation it sometimes overlooked emotional depth; whilst (SP) revealed unconscious processes it did not always translate these insights into new action; and whilst (NS) illuminated the mechanics of habit and embodiment it could not guarantee behavioural change in isolation. As I explore these throughout my thesis my intention is not to diminish the value of any one of these traditions. It was because of these gaps that it prompted me into a more nuanced inquiry and it was in the tensions and intersections between these perspectives that my own methodology began to be shaped.

X.4 Why now and why me?

Throughout my career, I have noticed the demands placed on leaders significantly shifting over the last ten years. Leadership today seems to require more than strategic clarity or a compelling vision. I see leaders increasingly called upon to make difficult decisions amid uncertainty, to carry emotional burdens for their teams, to grapple with organisational culture, and to respond quickly to ever- changing organisational pressures; all while still delivering meaningful results. To me this feels like more than simply an increase in complexity or speed. It feels like a fundamentally different kind of work where the distance between insight and action carries real consequences.

When insight does not lead to meaningful change, I sense the impact extends beyond individual leaders. The ripple effect touches teams, relationships and even whole organisational cultures. I have watched leaders articulate clearly what needs to shift, yet weeks or months later, they find themselves stuck in the same patterns. The habits persist. The frustration remains. People around them continue to feel the disconnect. At this point, I began sensing that coaching might be about more than supporting individual development. Perhaps coaching was also playing a more fundamental role and may be that something more was systemic. It might be what influences the patterns of connection, culture, and flow that shape an organisation’s capacity to adapt. This wider perspective gave urgency to my curiosity, yet what truly shaped my study was something more personal, closer to my own practice.

After more than thirty years working alongside leaders, I had become increasingly curious about my own practice. I have always valued questioning and challenging myself, and I rarely assume that methods that worked before will necessarily work again. Recently, my reflections returned repeatedly to complex uncertainties: What exactly was I doing when coaching felt effective? What was I noticing (or missing) in moments when leaders managed to translate insight into action? This led me to begin this study with uncertainty and with questions that felt increasingly important.

As this study progressed, I realised that the thesis is not only about understanding how leaders change, but also about understanding how I change as practitioner and researcher. The questions I was asking needed to turn inward as well. This thesis is equally about how I engage, how I show up, and how I respond (or fail to respond) in critical moments. My timing, my presence, and my own uncertainties began to feel crucial, and these questions became matters of professional responsibility that I could not ignore (Armstrong 2005).

I entered my research from a practitioner-oriented perspective, driven by a desire to better understand what was happening during my interactions with leaders, in real settings and under genuine pressures. While part of me hoped to find some resolution or clearer understanding of how insight could reliably translate into action, I also recognised from the outset that any answers would likely resist neat generalisations or universal solutions.

Why now? I believe leadership today is more demanding, less clear, and more personally consequential than ever before, making this inquiry especially timely. And why me? After decades of coaching, I found I could no longer avoid asking myself the hard questions about what my practice was truly enabling, inhibiting or missing in the lives of those I worked with.

X.5 Inviting you into the journey

I invite you to hold the image of two mirrors as you read, one beside the leader and one beside me, each bearing witness to what unfolds between us. Though the mirrors stand apart, they hold us both; this is the relational arc in which insight transforms into action. It is within this arc that this inquiry unfolds. The mirrors remind me that coaching, like my research, is mutual work held by presence and context, where together we are shaping and being shaped.

These mirrors became important to me because they revealed the essence of my research, surfacing late in the process when I finally saw something I had not been able to see clearly before.

Starting my thesis with an experiential experience, rather than an abstract system or a research statement, is a deliberate choice. It reflects the nature of my research itself that is both emergent, iterative and responsive. Like me and like coaching, my research is being shaped by paying attention to what is already present. This is a practice-led exploration of a persistent question, undertaken in iterative cycles of reflective experimentation.

I could not have undertaken study on coaching in any way other than it being practice-led. To study it otherwise would have meant stepping outside the very phenomenon I sought to understand. I am therefore writing directly from within the work itself, from within the tensions, habits and small experiments that make up a coaching practice. This means my research is both personal and professional, grounded in lived responsibility rather than detached observation.

The chapters that follow trace that journey. They provide reflections that sustain the ambiguity of my inquiry rather than provide final answers. Each chapter builds on the last, moving as part of an unfolding arc rather than as steps in a formula. The arc of my research mirrors the arc of coaching itself. It begins with curiosity, moves through resistance, notices what is stuck, tries something new and then observes what changes or perhaps don’t happen.

This thesis is an invitation to notice and to read with your own practice in mind.

X.5.1 How I wrote my thesis

Before moving further, I want to pause and share something about how my thesis is written and how I invite you to engage with it. Just as coaching conversations often start by settling into a shared intention, this prelude invites you into the text and the kind of attention my research asks for.

This thesis deliberately resists a linear progression toward neat answers. It reflects a stance and a practice that developed gradually, shaped by moments of clarity alongside extended periods of discomfort, and by carefully noticing what was happening beneath the surface of my work. This is practice-led research (Smith & Dean 2009; Haseman 2006), where my coaching practice itself is both the method of inquiry and the site of knowledge generation. Unlike reflective practice or auto- ethnography, practice-led research positions the iterative doing of coaching, the lived experiments, relational dynamics, and emergent insights, as the primary source of new understanding about coaching itself.

I have chosen to begin each chapter with a brief preface to situate you, the reader, both within the content of the chapter and within the coaching stance I was adopting at that stage of my inquiry. I include these prefaces as entry points to help you feel the texture of my research journey. Similar to how a coaching session unfolds without a predetermined outcome, I open each chapter with a question, a tension or a pattern that drew me in and invited deliberate exploration.

Throughout my thesis, you will notice that I sometimes hold questions open intentionally. I name contradictions and pause deliberately in places where clarity has not yet emerged. My intention is for the writing to mirror coaching itself, proceeding with careful attention to emerging patterns and patiently holding space for uncertainty.

Rather than stepping outside my practice to observe it from a distance, I have stepped more deeply into it. The data, analysis and insights have arisen directly from within my lived experiences of coaching. This positioning matters. The voice you hear throughout my thesis is that of me as a practitioner reflecting, learning and questioning from within the ongoing work (Armstrong 2005).

This thesis is an account of one inquiry into my coaching practice at a particular point in time. My hope is that it resonates beyond my own experience, speaks to the complexity that many coaches and leaders face, and offers language for aspects of coaching practice that often remain implicit. Above all, I invite you, whatever your role, to notice carefully how you show up, what you pay attention to and what might become possible when you allow your own practice to guide you.

X.6 Structure of my thesis and chapter overview

As I have shared, my thesis is structured as an evolving inquiry shaped through practice and reflection rather than a linear progression. Similar to the process of coaching, which has a tendency to be a cyclical recurrence of observation, experimentation and re-appraisal, my research proceeded in a series of cycles of action and reflection. Each chapter outlines a distinct phase of that process, tracing a developmental arc from the initial research questions through progressive reflexive insight to an integrated practice.

The central concern anchoring my thesis is the persistent gap between insight and action in leadership coaching. Why do powerful moments of clarity often fail to produce sustained behavioural change even when genuine desire is present? How might the coaching relationship itself either support or stall that process?

To explore these questions, I draw on three distinct yet complementary perspectives, systems psychodynamics (SP), neuroscience (NS) and action methodologies (AM). My thesis examines how these perspectives illuminate different aspects of the gap and how an integrative approach can foster more durable change.

These chapters chart the progression from early questions to reflexive inquiry and from baseline practice to an emergent integrated stance.

Chapter 1. Establishing the research gap

In this chapter I introduce the central dilemma that insight alone often fails to produce sustained behavioural change in leaders, situating the insight-to-action gap in the practice of coaching and its wider organisational implications. I outline my research problem and provisional aims and questions and reflects on my motivations and ethical positioning as coach-researcher. Throughout, I maintain an open and questioning stance and lays the foundation for my practice-led investigation that follows.

Chapter 2. Literature review

In this chapter I examine the literature underpinning the insight-to-action gap in leadership coaching. I trace the field’s evolution from rationalist and goal-focused origins to more developmental and relational paradigms, I highlight the persistent challenges of behavioural transferability and I refine my research aims and questions that will guide the chapters that follow.

Chapter 3. Methodology

In this chapter I set out my practice-led constructivist-interpretivist design. I describes the multi- method data sources including coaching sessions, interviews, projective drawings and reflective journals, and I explain how they enabled me to capture both process and outcome. I also address the ethical considerations of being coach and researcher simultaneously and I outline the iterative strategies of analysis.

Chapter 4. Creating a baseline

In this chapter I present the first three coaching engagements (CP1-CP3) that were undertaken using my existing coaching practice to create a baseline. When reviewing the audio and video recordings, reflective notes and artefacts after completing the coaching sessions I focused on noticing what was happening in their sessions and in my own responses. The sessions reveal recurring patterns in which leaders often gained significant insight yet struggled to enact consistent behavioural change and I explore how my instinctive coaching habits may have influenced these outcomes.

Chapter 5. Interviews with coaches and leaders

In this chapter I broaden my inquiry beyond my own practice by conducting semi-structured interviews with six experienced coaches and six organisational leaders who had previously undertaken leadership coaching. The participants came from diverse sectors and levels of seniority. The interviews invited them to reflect on why insight sometimes fails to translate into action, what interventions they found effective and how organisational context shaped change efforts. Through thematic analysis I identified common themes such as the importance of trust, timing and accountability, alongside divergent perspectives that challenged and enriched my early findings.

Chapter 6. Reflexivity and my researcher’s stance

In this chapter, I draw on the literature I have reviewed and the data (phases 1, 2 and 3) I have collected to examine my own coaching practice more deeply. Through analysis of my journals, personal narrative and professional experience, I trace the emergence of what I term the ‘Other’ stance. This stance integrates (SP), (NS) and (AM), bringing together reflection, emotional awareness and practical experimentation. Grounded in reflective distance, presence and containment, it involves attentiveness to the unspoken dynamics between coach and leader and supports the translation of awareness into action.

Chapter 7. Implementing the enhanced approach

In this chapter I return to practice where I experiment with the ‘Other’ stance, now intentionally informed by (SP), neuroscience and action methodologies, into coaching three new leaders (CP4- CP6). I document the interplay of theory and practice, for example where I pair psychological safety with disruption, introduce neuroscience-informed regulation techniques and co-designing micro experiments. As I held this stance a corresponding ‘Self’ stance emerged in the leaders. The leaders appeared to become more active agents willing to sit with discomfort, map their own patterns, rewrite limiting narratives and test new behaviours.

Chapter 8. Discussion and conclusion

In this chapter I synthesise the findings through the lens of my five research questions. I propose the ‘Relational Arc Framework’, a seven-by-seven matrix linking seven coach practices of the ‘Other’ stance, with seven leader practices of the ‘Self’ stance, as a way of capturing the dynamic interplay required to bridge the insight-to-action gap. I discuss the conceptual and methodological contributions of integrating (SP), (NS) and (AM), acknowledge the limitations of my research and suggest avenues for future research. The chapter closes by returning to the mirror metaphor from the prelude, showing how both coach and leader are transformed by the relational arc of coaching.

Chapter 1 Establishing the Research Gap

1.0 Naming the dilemma

When a leader steps, for the first time, into the coaching room there may be a strong sense that something does not feel right, perhaps a tightening in the stomach or a sense of unease, the feeling of being stuck or frustrated. For the leader it can be overwhelming and to begin is to be courageous. For the coach this is the moment to slow down and to sit beside the tension and to notice what is happening. That reflective pause often brings powerful insights, yet, as introduced in the Prelude, insight alone does not guarantee lasting change in leadership behaviour. This chapter builds on that dilemma by asking: Why doesn’t insight always lead to change and what might be getting in the way?

Recent meta-analytic evidence demonstrates that while leadership coaching can be effective in producing behavioural change the translation of insight into sustained change remains a nuanced and ongoing challenge in leadership coaching (Nicolau et al. 2023). I am curious to uncover what has already been considered and the subsequent findings and use it to compare and contrast how it has emerged in my own professional experience.

Like the beginning of any meaningful coaching work, this chapter starts with naming what feels true even if it is still unclear. It is the first step in a longer journey of staying with the question. The purpose of this chapter is to establish how the insight-to-action gap may appear in leadership coaching, why it is worth researching and to identify the initial questions that will guide my inquiry.

1.1 Introducing the dilemma

Leadership coaching has become relied on as a driving force for change based on the expectation that reflective insight will lead to meaningful behavioural change, however, the intriguing question of why those insights do not translate to action persists. In coaching conversations, it is reasonable to assume that leader will increase genuine awareness about themselves, their relationships and their organisations and that that awareness feels significant and valuable. What is less common is for those insights to translate into behavioural change (Ahmadi & Vogel 2023).

My own practice has revealed how even the most compelling realisations can unravel under everyday pressures and demands. It can be unsettling to witness leaders, newly inspired in a session, find those same epiphanies evaporate once they return to organisational life. In naming the issue, I begin by exploring the key elements that may contribute to it and those that seem to sustain it. From my dual perspective as coach and researcher, I consider how coaching methods, personal resistance and organisational forces can collectively create a recurring tension that leaders ‘know’ but do not always ‘do.’

In line with the purpose of this chapter, I am intending on exposing my thinking and questions as way to establish and clarify the research problem. Simply looking at the volume of research that has already been undertaken reinforces that leadership coaching is seldom a straightforward cause-and- effect process. My focus is to try and hold the uncertainty long enough for it to serve as a platform to question assumptions about what effective coaching entails and how meaningful behavioural change might be cultivated.

1.1.1 Exploring the dilemma

I have experienced many interactions with leaders like this one where a leader leaned back, exhaled slowly and said, “I finally see it. My need for control is limiting my team.” At the time his tone carried both relief and an understanding that had not come easily, it was as if he had stumbled onto something he had been confusing him for a long time. In that moment the conversation felt different, like something meaningful had shifted, however, when we met again a few weeks later, the insight felt like it had been undone.

“I tried,” he told me, clearly frustrated. “I knew I had to step back but once the pressure was on, I just couldn’t do it.” He seemed disheartened and what had seemed like a powerful moment of insight during our earlier conversation had diminished beneath the demands of his daily responsibilities.

The Immunity to Change is one framework that can help explain this kind of struggle. Kegan and Lahey (2009) suggest that people often carry hidden commitments that conflict with their stated goals, covertly derailing their efforts to change. Reynolds (2004) add to this by suggesting that without attending to emotional and systemic forces, reflection alone may not be enough to shift behaviour in a lasting way. Other researchers point to similar patterns; de Haan et al. (2020) note how intention can meet unconscious resistance and while Rock and Schwartz (2006) explain how the 11 brain’s habitual responses often override new behavioural goals. This is also reinforced through recent studies repeatedly show that even strong insights can slip under pressure as routine responses return (Ahmadi & Vogel 2023; Passmore & Sinclair 2024).

All of this leaves me wondering if coaching really addresses the full scope of what helps or hinders change. Do I really understand all the dynamics that may be shaping and influencing a leaders behaviour? Even when a leader says to me, they are ready to change I have seen the known routines, defences and workplace expectations take over almost as soon as they step back into their day-to- day role (Rock & Schwartz 2006; Kegan & Lahey 2009).

If coaching is supposed to support sustainable transformation, then perhaps I need to ask what might be missing and whether I expect too much from a leaders capacity to simply choose differently? If the answer is yes, the issue might not just be about the leader it might also be about our underlying dynamics and the fast paced, performance driven environments in which the coaching often occurs. And when outcomes and efficiency are prioritised how does that allow for the ‘time’ that might be required for reflective growth and meaningful change to occur? This brings up a bigger question about the purpose of coaching and is its aim to always change behaviour, or is it sometimes more about creating the time for reflection? This then impacts on how coaching is measured and whether it is realistic to measure coaching success only through short-term, observable changes (Ibarra 2015; Bachkirova 2016)? In my experience, organisations often do exactly that, they focus on the immediate and visible outcomes which often overlook longer term development.

As I shared, the leader I described is not the only one I have seen caught in this pattern. As a coach I need to notice these struggles and to ask myself to reflect on my own part in the process. How do I unintentionally contribute to what keeps leaders stuck? Could it be the way I chose when to challenge or when to hold back have made it harder for leaders to move forward? This leaves me wondering on what I might learn if I examined my coaching sessions more closely, moment by moment, to understand how these sessions contribute to enabling or inhibiting leaders in achieving lasting change.

If I am now viewing leadership transformation as something relational then the coaching space itself becomes a key part of the picture and not a neutral backdrop. I need to recognise that it is shaped by the expectations, habits and narratives both people bring into it. That includes me as the coach. The way I work, the choices I make, what I avoid or emphasise all play a role in what the coaching becomes (Reynolds 2004; Bachkirova 2016; de Haan et al. 2020). If the insight-to-action gap keeps showing up it may not only be about the leader. It could also be about how I, as coach, am engaging with the complex and often uncomfortable work of behaviour change.

1.1.2 Exploring underlying mechanisms

When coaching does not lead to visible behaviour change, it is not uncommon for it to be framed as a personal shortfall, that the leader lacked willpower, focus or follow through. Whilst this view still finds traction in organisation and development narratives (Petriglieri & Petriglieri 2020) I believe it only tells only part of the story and it is imperative to explore what else might be happening when someone gains insight and struggles to act on it.

In my own work, transformation rarely seems to hinge on awareness alone. It appears to emerge within a mix of psychodynamic, organisational and neurological influences that do not always align. A leader might feel deeply committed to change; however, they may be pulled back by older patterns that are difficult to shift. These forces can be subtle and persistent.

If coaching focuses mainly on setting goals and generating insight, am I overlooking what lies beneath? I have experienced when conversations have remained in ‘safe territory’, when the leader explores what is already known and stop before illuminating the habitual patterns or systemic conditions that are shaping their behaviour. Whilst these influences may not always be visible during a session, they are often what resurface once leaders return to the pressures of daily work. Rock and Schwartz (2006) and Passmore and Sinclair (2024) note that ingrained routines tend to reappear under stress, while Reynolds (2004) and Petriglieri and Petriglieri (2020) suggest that organisational and interpersonal dynamics that are dormant in the coaching conversation can re-emerge in the workplace and undermining the new intentions.

To further understand why breakthroughs often dissolve under pressure neuroscience (NS) explains that repeated behaviours form pathways in the brain that gradually becoming the default response (Rock & Schwartz 2006; Gardner et al. 2024). (NS) shows that even leaders who want to change will often revert to what feels known, especially under stress or fatigue (Passmore & Sinclair 2024). (NS) positions that the brain is designed to favour what is efficient, which means it will tend to fall back into well-worn patterns even when new approaches have been discussed or practised (Hebb 2005; LeDoux 2015; Cozolino 2016; Geldenhuys 2022; Yamada & Toda 2023; Keen & Geldenhuys 2025).

This (NS) position makes me reflect on what role the coaching relationship plays alongside these neural tendencies. If certain responses are deeply wired can coaching still matter? Then what may interact with these forces in ways that either disrupt or reinforce them? As Armstrong (2005), Petriglieri & Petriglieri (2020) and de Haan & Nilsson (2023) observe, the coaching space sometimes reflects the very dynamics leaders are trying to shift in their workplaces. This idea intrigues and confronts me. It implies that how I show up as a coach, whether I challenge or unconsciously accommodate, could either open the door to change or reinforce the old routine.

If (NS) points to habit and repetition and if (SP) brings attention to the emotional and unconscious layers that sit behind behaviour both views can help explain why transformation can be hard to sustain. It is also possible that at times they may even work against each other. I know, at times, I have avoided or reduced my challenge to a leader because of how I have assessed their or their organisation’s readiness for change. That assessment is inevitably biased, since how can I really know? What this reveals to me is that what appears to be the leaders restraint may reflect more about my assumptions than the leaders actual capacity.

The growing literature on collusion in coaching relationships highlights this risk. Empirical studies (Spaten 2020) provide evidence that coaching relationships can unconsciously reinforce unproductive patterns, a finding corroborated by similar studies (O’Broin & Palmer 2010). Bion (1962), Armstrong (2005), Cilliers & Henning (2021) and Cilliers & Shongwe (2020) highlight the importance of how effective leadership coaching requires containment; the coach’s ability to provide a psychodynamic space where the leaders anxieties and emotions can be safely held and processed (Bion 1961). They also stress awareness of countertransference, the coach’s own emotional responses to the leader, is often influenced by the coach’s personal history (Gelso & Hayes 2007). This raises the importance of my awareness and mindful attention to professional boundaries and ethical principles helps avoid unconsciously reinforcing unhelpful patterns with the leader (Carroll & Shaw 2013).

These insights resonate strongly with my own practice as I have experienced times when a leader explains why something did not happen and I notice a sense of scepticism in myself, as if their account does not fully convince me. Instead of dismissing that feeling, I use it as a resource to test what might be taking shape, even if I believe I am holding space and offering constructive challenge. I have learned that it is often when I ignore this sense of dissonance that collusion can begin to take shape. At the same time, I do not always notice them. At times they pass by unnoticed, and only later do I realise that I may have joined the leader in avoiding something difficult to name. Paying attention to these moments, when I can, helps me test whether I am genuinely supporting reflection or maintaining a comfortable narrative.

This also helps to me think or re-think what I assume in coaching to be a leaders resistance and the importance of considering how and why the coaching dynamic itself might be contributing. For example, it may be the way in which I am engaging that unintentionally keep certain narratives intact or enabling unspoken patterns to be tacitly rehearsed. What happens during the coaching and what does not happen could be just as powerful as any framework or model I apply (Reynolds 2004; Bachkirova 2016; de Haan et al. 2020; Spaten 2020).

These observations raise an important question. If the subtle forces at play within the coaching relationship can sustain or even reinforce old patterns, then how well do current coaching models address this complexity? This makes me wonder about the strengths and limits of widely used approaches.

1.1.3 Current coaching models

Many of today’s coaching models, such as GROW (Whitmore 2010) or cognitive behavioural approaches (Neenan & Palmer 2021), are designed to strengthen self-awareness, set clear goals and support action. I have seen how widely these frameworks are used, and they can show success in the short term (Theeboom et al. 2014; Jones et al. 2016; Grant 2017). I have been asked by clients to deliver these frameworks in coaching, and I have experienced how they can help leaders make practical, observable changes. However, these changes are often at the surface, addressing immediate cognitive goals without always translating into lasting shifts in behavioural patterns or ways of being. My experience with these coaching models have left me questioning whether such approaches allow for the more complex, often unexamined influences that inhibit creating sustained behavioural change.

The GROW model and similar frameworks are often presented as pathways to sustained behavioural change and they assume that structured goal setting and planning can guide leaders towards transformation. In practice, however, they appear to be most effective for supporting cognitive or process learning rather than behavioural change (Whitmore 2010; Panchal & Riddell 2020; Neenan & Palmer 2021). They can help clarify thinking and direct attention, yet I am not confident they always reach the underlying dimensions that sustain change over time. I wonder whether it is their apparent simplicity and focus on measurable outcomes may explain their widespread use. These models are relatively easy to train coaches to deliver by following a clear structure that seems to fit more ‘comfortably’ within fast-moving, results-oriented organisations that value efficiency and visible progress (Theeboom et al. 2014; Grant 2017; Panchal & Riddell 2020). It may be this alignment that reinforces their popularity, even when the transformation they promise remains largely at the surface.

With this in mind I find myself wondering what their purpose and value are in leadership development. Are they best suited to guiding goal-directed action, addressing specific challenges, or helping individuals learn new roles and processes? Or can they genuinely enable the kind of transformative, enduring shifts in behaviour that many organisations and leaders desire? Evidence increasingly suggests that while these frameworks are effective for supporting structured progress and skill acquisition, they may not be designed or sufficient for facilitating the deeper, embodied changes that sustain new ways of leading (Theeboom et al. 2014; Grant 2017; Panchal & Riddell 2020). This raises important questions about which coaching approaches most effectively bridge the gap between understanding and action and what mechanisms prevent insight from being fully lived out in new patterns of practice.

As I am thinking about these models more it appears that there is a common belief that insight will naturally lead to action. This assumption is not consistent with my experience, and it is not strongly supported by research (Theeboom et al. 2014; Halliwell et al. 2023), which makes me wonder why this belief continues to hold such influence and why are they so readily used in organisation even when the evidence tells suggests otherwise? I can’t help but wonder if it is more developmental coaching models appear more complex, uncertain and personally vulnerable for both leader and coach and the goal orientated, performance models are more known and considered less risky.

These tensions often become visible in practice, where the neat logic of goal-oriented coaching meets the complexity of human behaviour. A leader may present with what appears to be a goal or process challenge, and it can feel natural to apply a framework like GROW. The conversation then becomes about planning, problem solving or identifying next steps. However, when progress stalls or the same pattern keeps reappearing, it often becomes clear that this is not a ‘know-do’ issue. The leader may fully understand what needs to change but remain unable to enact it. Beneath the surface, emotional, relational or systemic dynamics are usually at play, quietly inhibiting the movement from insight to sustained action. This is where the boundaries of structured, goal-based models become most visible, and where deeper work is needed to understand what holds the behaviour in place.

Most coaching models are also based on the idea that leaders are the main drivers of their own growth. That view can make sense as it gives the leader agency. However, if transformation also unfolds in a shared space between coach and leader and within a broader organisational context, then placing all the responsibility on the individual might be too narrow. In some ways, it could even reinforce the very mindset that coaching is meant to challenge. The idea that progress is linear, that leaders must always be self-sufficient or push forward on their own, sits at odds with what (SP) suggests. From that lens, development happens in relationship. It is co-created and influenced by unseen forces, such as the assumptions, anxieties and histories that play out in the space between people (Western 2012; Cilliers & Shongwe 2020; Cilliers & Henning 2021).

This prompts me to think about the coaching context and what kind of relationship does coaching have with the system around it? In organisations that reward certainty, speed and visible results, can coaching avoid becoming just another way to help people perform better within those same pressures? Petriglieri and Petriglieri (2020) warn that when coaching is applied only as an individual development tool, it may end up supporting the status quo more than disrupting it. A leader may leave a session with greater insight into their behaviour but still find it hard to do anything differently. That becomes especially true when the organisation’s underlying dynamics, its culture or its unspoken expectations remain unexamined.

These insights have helped me articulate the assumptions behind current coaching models and have also made me more aware of my concern about how coaching is applied in organisation and what it is actually asking of the leader. I have always struggled with the organisational need for measurable impact, and I am now wondering if that struggle was me experiencing a dissonance between what organisations expect from coaching and what is actually possible within the preferred approach itself. While structured models offer valuable frameworks for short-term progress, I feel more determined to understand the underlying elements that support or constrain lasting transformation. I am hoping this may offer a more complete picture of how coaching can move beyond facilitating insight to genuinely embedding new ways of being and leading.

1.1.4 Coaching as a containing space

When I apply a (SP) approach to my coaching I have experienced Bion’s (1962) idea of containment helpful in framing the work as an active process rather than a static state of safety. The coach receives and works with what the leader brings, often feelings and experiences that are difficult to hold, and returns them in a form that can be thought about and used. This feels more aligned with how I experience how learning occurs, and even though it can be difficult, it suggests that development depends on how emotion is worked with, not on avoiding it. As I think about this I realise that knowing about the role containment feels like it validates it as a container for me to support how I as a coach stay engaged with what feels uncomfortable, naming it, exploring it, and working with it until it begins to generate something useful.

Green & Molenkamp (2005) suggest that effective containment rests on well-defined boundaries of time, task and territory. These boundaries provide the predictability needed for psychological safety and the structure within which discomfort and challenge can be introduced. French and Simpson (2010) note that boundaries are not only structural, that they also play a key role in containing anxiety and making it possible for learning and change to occur. In leadership coaching this understanding has become increasingly relevant. Alderfer (1980) observes that coaching sessions can become either overbounded, where boundaries are too rigid and protective and end up stifling growth and promoting collusive avoidance, or underbounded, where boundaries are too loose leading to anxiety, fragmentation and uncontained emotion. Containment must intentionally and carefully managed to provide enough safety to hold discomfort while also enabling the tension and challenge that move development forward (Diamond & Allcorn 2009; Petriglieri & Petriglieri 2020).

This balance is also recognised in (NS), which demonstrates how learning can be hindered when stress levels are either too high or too low (LeDoux 2015). When arousal is overwhelming the brain defaults to defence rather than reflection, and when there is too little challenge, there may be no reason to change at all. (AM) point to the same balance in their focus on cycles of experimentation and reflection. Change requires stepping out of known patterns, but only in ways that remain workable enough for learning to be sustained.

The key challenge, then, is how to maintain enough safety for difficult material to be faced, while also creating the right amount of tension that nudges both coach and leader beyond their ways of knowing. These are questions are steering me further into examining my practice as a coach, as I feel at times the intensity of the ongoing negotiation between helping leaders feel held and challenged enough to enable learning. Coaching that is focused on sustained behavioural change, as I am becoming clearer about is not following a linear process it is the continual navigation between emotional holding and developmental challenge. These tensions in practice point beyond individual willpower toward wider conditions, that inform the research problem and rationale that follow.

1.2 Research problem and rationale

Building on these dynamics, what first seemed like an individual difficulty now appears to be more like a recurring pattern across leadership development practice (Athanasopoulou and Dopson 2018; de Haan et al. 2020). It can be easy to frame this as a lack of willpower or a failure to follow through, but in my experience, it is rarely that simple. Leaders do not operate in isolation. They are influenced by layers of cultural norms, performance pressures, relationship histories and unspoken systemic forces. These factors can subtly reinforce the very habits they are trying to leave behind (Petriglieri & Petriglieri 2020). If coaching creates brief windows of clarity that do not seem to stick, what does that imply about the tools and assumptions I am relying on? Perhaps there is a mismatch between the surface-level focus on awareness and the underlying, often unexamined, dynamics shape behaviour (de Haan & Gannon 2016; de Haan 2019).

As I noticed these patterns repeating and my understanding began to develop. I began to see that what I had been calling a gap between knowing and doing was more common and more complex than I had first thought. I realised my research is less about me questioning a leaders’ capacity for change and more about re-examining what I expect coaching to achieve in the first place (Sverdlik & Oreg 2023; Passmore & Sinclair 2024; Sarmiento et al. 2024).

The coaching field often celebrates those moments of breakthrough, the so-called ‘aha’ realisations, that suggest a turning point. Yet if awareness is not enough on its own, it raises the question of what else might be happening in the space between insight and action. As I am aware, the clarity and focus that emerges in a session often becomes blurred when leaders return to the pace and pressures of their roles. Perhaps this points to influences that sit within the coaching conversation that shapes how both coach and leader respond. The questions about my own practice have been emerging from this realisation, leading me to look more closely at what unfolds within the relationship itself and how it connects with the wider organisational context (Argyris & Schön 1978; Argyris 1991; Kegan & Lahey 2009; Petriglieri & Petriglieri 2020).

This opens the possibility that my own stance may play a role in sustaining or shifting this gap. This leads me to hold the question of why does insight so often get left behind and what would it take to for me to respond more fully to the forces that shape a leader’s choices and behaviour and how would I as a coach do this (de Haan 2025)? The knowing-doing gap is well recognised in leadership and management literature however the reflexive positioning of the coach in this dynamic has received far less attention. This underexplored angle invites me to take a closer look, suggesting that examining both coach and leader together may offer fresh ways of understanding how insight becomes action.

This recognition is directing the focus of my research toward the coaching relationship itself in how it functions, what it holds, and how my coaching stance may influence whether insight becomes sustained change.

1.2.1 The coach’s narrative as problem

Looking back across many coaching engagements, I recognise that this gap is not only experienced by the leaders I work with that it also applies to me. One of the more uncomfortable realisations was that my own narrative as a coach might play a role in whether insight turns into action. Earlier in my practice, I held an assumption that once a leader recognised something meaningful, like how micromanagement was damaging trust, they would naturally act on that insight.

If we consider as we did earlier that (SP) positions coaching as something co-created and not as a neutral exchange (Cilliers 2019) the question of who drives change becomes more complex. It is not just about whether the leader decides to shift. The coach also brings internal frameworks, comfort zones and emotional responses that shape the space. I have noticed that when a leader shares a thoughtful reflection, I sometimes feel a sense of satisfaction and that moment can feel complete. However, that sense of completion might make me less likely to take the next step, to challenge, to stretch, or to invite something riskier (Bachkirova & Smith 2015). In those moments, reflection becomes the end point rather than the beginning of action.

Working with reflexive research has helped me notice how my own history and professional identity shape how I navigate the space between support and challenge. The literature in (SP) makes it clear that coaches are not immune to transference, preference or projection. We may find ourselves drawn to certain leader patterns and hesitant around others that hit close to home (Cilliers 2019). Recognising this, as explored earlier, means accepting that the coaching space is not neutral. It is relational, emotionally charged and shaped by both people. The field often speaks about the coach as a neutral presence, yet this framing seems too clean. From an (SP) perspective, unconscious processes are assumed to be ever present in the work.

If I take this view seriously, then the leaders difficulty in shifting behaviour is most likely not entirely theirs. It might also reflect how I have structured the coaching process. If I tend to stop at deep reflection and avoid prompting real-world experimentation, then I may be supporting the very resistance I hope to help shift. This challenges the idea that resistance only lives in the leader. It also calls attention to how the coach’s desire for insight or relational ease might hold things in place.

This is part of why I see reflexivity as essential to my research. It is not simply a matter of selecting the right method. It feels more like a necessary ethical stance. If coaching happens in relationship, then understanding why insight does or does not lead to change must also include an honest look at the coach’s role. I am not standing outside the process. I am in it, and this recognition has deepened my awareness that the coaching relationship is not a neutral container for transformation. It may, in fact, be one of the key factors determining whether such transformation is ultimately possible (de Haan & Gannon 2016; Spaten 2020).

1.2.2 Defining the research problem

As I have reflected on these patterns, I am gaining clarity of the research problem. It is pointing me towards a methodological approach that moves beyond measuring the surface level effectiveness of coaching. Asking the question whether coaching works sits in the background as I am more interested in the conditions that enable change to happen and the ones that inhibit it through coaching.

In thinking about what this chapter has uncovered it was an important reminder that many coaching approaches still rely on the idea that self-awareness naturally leads to behavioural change (Rock & Schwartz 2006). In both my experience and in the literature, this assumption is beginning to show cracks. Leaders can express deep clarity during a session and still find themselves stuck in the same patterns when it comes time to act (Argyris 1991; Kegan & Lahey 2009). That shift in clarity led me to a different question. Instead of asking why a leader fails to follow through, perhaps I need to ask whether some coaching approaches are missing the underlying relational or systemic factors that shape behaviour in the first place (Cilliers 2019; Bachkirova & Borrington 2020).

Argyris’s (1991) concept of single loop and double loop learning offers one helpful way to explore this. In most coaching conversations the focus tends to stay on actions, to delegate more, to listen better and to manage time differently, without digging into the underlying assumptions that fuel those behaviours. These assumptions often centre around beliefs tied to control, vulnerability or self- worth. If these core beliefs are not made visible, then the learning is likely to remain on the surface. Halliwell et al. (2023) suggest that under pressure these hidden assumptions can subtly take over, pulling leaders back into old patterns even when they intend to do something different. This raises an important question about whether coaching is consistently positioned to surface those beliefs and whether the organisation around the leader supports that kind of reflective work.

Kegan and Lahey’s (2009) concept of immunity to change, mentioned earlier, describes how leaders can hold genuine intentions to shift their behaviour while also carrying unconscious commitments that exist to protect them. These hidden motives might include avoiding failure, keeping control or protecting their reputation. In theory, a leader might understand they need to delegate more but in moments of ambiguity or risk, a long-standing fear of being exposed or losing authority can override that intention.

From a systems psychodynamic (SP) view, these challenges are often made more complex by the relational context in which they occur. If a team is used to being closely directed, then a leaders attempt to step back can feel unsettling or even threatening. The group may react in ways that reinforce the very control the leader is trying to release (Petriglieri & Petriglieri 2020; de Haan et al. 2020). In these moments, what looks like a personal struggle may actually be a shared dynamic. The discomfort that follows can quickly lead to a return to more routine behaviours. These relational loops (de Haan et al. 2020) help maintain the status quo and make it harder for real change to take hold.

Beyond the (SP) lens, structural and cultural factors also have a major influence. Many organisations place a premium on speed, decisiveness and individual performance. It is in these environments there is often little room for the reflective experimentation that sustained change requires because it is slow and the results are less visible. I have worked with leaders who have tried to shift their style and have been met with direct and indirect messages that such change is risky or unwelcome. In these cases, the coaching may still feel powerful in the moment, however, its effects can fade when the leader returns to a setting that resists disruption. This for me is a critical element of coaching of how to help leaders engage with these systemic forces in not doing so there is a risk that responsibility for change gets placed entirely on the individual. That framing may be not only inaccurate but also unfair (Bachkirova & Borrington 2020).

Ultimately, my research focuses on why this ‘insight-to-action’ gap persists in leadership coaching. I have found that even meaningful insights often fail to become lasting changes in behaviour. The causes, I suspect, are complex and interwoven. Defensive patterns, relational feedback, organisational expectations and coaching methods themselves may all be part of what keeps things in place.

What remains less examined is the role the coach plays in this dynamic. Could the coach’s own stance, shaped by theory, personal history or unconscious investment, be reinforcing the same patterns they are trying to shift? And if that is true, what does it mean for how coaching effectiveness is assessed? This emphasis on the coach’s reflexive stance marks the original contribution of my research. It highlights how the coach’s presence, assumptions and responses might unintentionally sustain the very gap they seek to close, an aspect rarely made explicit in existing research.

This research takes a broader view. Rather than treating stalled change as a matter of motivation or discipline, the wider conditions that influence what happens after a coaching session ends are explored (de Haan & Gannon 2016). In doing so, it seeks to uncover more subtle and nuanced ways to understand how insight becomes action or why it sometimes does not. While many factors may contribute to sustaining the status quo the coach’s positioning is one of the least studied. How that positioning either disrupts or reinforces old patterns deserves closer attention. At the same time my research also holds space for the leaders role. Change does not happen in isolation. It is shaped in relationship. The coaching space becomes a field where transformation is not only made possible but is also negotiated, resisted or reshaped in real time.

The research problem I am working with is now framed in this way. While coaching often produces moments of clarity and self-awareness, these insights frequently fail to translate into sustained behavioural change. This persistent insight-to-action gap cannot be explained by individual willpower alone. It reflects how unconscious dynamics in the coaching relationship interact with wider relational and systemic conditions that can hold old behaviours in place. This thesis investigates those conditions in order to understand what enables or obstructs the movement from insight-to- action.

1.3 Research aims

In my coaching work I meet leaders who gain clear insight during a session yet slip back into habitual patterns once they return to daily pressures. These moments prompt me to ask what conditions enable or obstruct the translation of coaching insights into sustained behavioural practice, and how unconscious processes, relational dynamics, and leaders’ experiences of systemic influences shape this movement.

The gap between knowing and doing also raises questions about coaching’s purpose. Is it primarily about driving behaviour change or is it about offering a reflective space for learning and sense making. If coaching privileges reflection without also engaging conditions needed to act on insights, does this risk leaving the insight-to-action gap intact. At the same time, organisations often expect measurable outcomes, which complicates how effectiveness should be judged.

I am not assuming that any single coaching model can close the insight-to-action gap. Instead, I am starting with provisional aims that I will refine as theory and practice unfold. My approach is deliberately iterative, so I remain responsive to new evidence rather than fixed on one framework.

The aim is to explore the impact of psychodynamic processes (including conscious and unconscious coaching processes), relational dynamics and leaders perceived organisational conditions as they emerge in the coaching alliance on whether and how leadership insights translate into sustained behavioural practice.

My initial lines of research include:

1. Alliance dynamics and sustainability: How do specific coach interventions within a psychodynamicly contained and appropriately bounded coaching space affect whether insight translates into sustained day to day action, and when might my coaching stance unintentionally maintain rather than interrupt the leaders habitual responses?

2. Unconscious and relational processes: Using (SP), how do projection, transference and other unspoken dynamics shape the emotional texture of sessions and influence outcomes that are not immediately visible?

3. Cognitive and neurobiological constraints: Stress reactivity, habit loops and neural plasticity all shape behavioural reinforcement. What does it mean to work intentionally with these factors inside the coaching conversation?

4. Reflexivity on the coach’s part: How might my own narratives, preferences and theoretical assumptions unintentionally support the patterns I hope to shift and how can ongoing reflexive practice mitigate that risk?

5. Integrating multiple lenses: Can a combined (SP), (NS) and (AM) approach address the insight-to-action gap more effectively than any single framework?

These lines of research are not fixed signposts. In Chapter 2, the literature is reviewed to surface tensions, gaps and resonances across these perspectives, with the review outcomes refining both the aims and the methodology described in section 3.1-3.3.

1.4 Research questions

My research questions below arise from the preceding lines of inquiry and serve as working guides for my research. They reflect how the ‘insight-to-action gap’ has been conceptualised so far, while remaining open to refinement as new evidence and theoretical perspectives are incorporated through the literature review in Chapter 2.

Central question:

How do coaching processes (including both conscious and unconscious interventions), relational dynamics and leaders’ experiences of organisational context as brought into the coaching space influence the persistence or disruption of the insight-to-action gap in leadership development?

Sub questions:

1. In what ways does the coaching alliance affect the translation of insight into sustained new behaviours for leaders?

2. Which coaching practices, stances or interventions are most associated with sustained behavioural shifts, and which may reinforce the status quo, and why?

3. How do unconscious defence mechanisms and dynamics interact with attempts to rewire habitual responses, and in what ways can coaching surface, disrupt or reinforce these patterns?

4. How do stress responses and automatic habit loops interact with coaching attempts to promote new behaviours, and how can interventions be designed to work with these processes deliberately?

5. To what extent can an integrated mix of systems psychodynamic, neuroscience and action methodologies provide a more adaptive approach to bridging insight and action?

6. How does my own reflexive coaching practice, through sustained analysis of interventions, stance and boundaries, shape, reinforce or disrupt leader movement from insight-to-action?

These questions will be revisited and, where necessary, revised after the literature review in Chapter 2. Insights from that review will further refine both the questions and the methodological design in Chapter 3, supporting a research process capable of holding the complexity, uncertainty and relational nuance that characterise the insight-to-action gap.

1.5 Overview of methodology

As I explore the insight-to-action gap in greater depth I adopt both a constructivist-interpretivist (Myers 2008; Creswell & Poth 2025) and practice-led (Candy 2006; Smith & Dean 2009) orientation. These approaches align to the kind of research I’m undertaking, one that seeks to attend to the relational, dynamic and systemic nature of coaching as it unfolds in real world settings (Chang 2008; Creswell & Poth 2025).

Rather than testing pre-defined variables in controlled conditions the focus is on exploring how leadership transformation emerges, or doesn’t, in practice. This includes acknowledging that coaching interactions are rarely linear or isolated; that they are shaped by a web of psychodynamic, organisational and interpersonal forces (de Haan et al. 2020). As my research progresses, I am open to the possibility that my methodological choices will need to evolve to stay responsive to the complexity that arises.

1.5.1 Balancing theory and practice in research

Leadership coaching has drawn from a wide range of theoretical perspectives, including cognitive behavioural, existential and person-centred traditions. Each of these has offered something valuable. From what I have observed in practice it seems that no single framework fully captures the layered difficulties involved in fostering lasting behavioural change (Bachkirova & Borrington 2020).

My research is informed by a blend of (SP), (NS) and (AM). Each offers a different lens. (SP) explores unconscious dynamics and relational entanglements; (NS) provides insight into habit loops, stress responses and neural plasticity; and (AM) emphasises learning through cycles of inquiry, experimentation and reflection in real situations (Rock & Schwartz 2006; Revans 2011).

These frameworks will be used as lenses rather than templates or tools, to explore emerging insights rather than impose structure. I will move between them, exploring how they hold up in different coaching contexts and allowing insights from practice to inform which elements resonate and which may fall short.

A key assumption behind this approach is that ‘knowing about’ transformation is not the same as ‘doing’ transformation, a tension that mirrors the very gap my research seeks to explore. So rather than seeking a singular solution, my research will examine how concepts like containment, transference or neural reinforcement show up in practice and how they interact with the lived realities of coaching work. I anticipate that these insights will emerge gradually and require ongoing methodological refinement.

1.5.2 Why a practice-led methodology?

A practice-led approach (Candy 2006; Chang 2008; Smith & Dean 2009), developed primarily within the creative arts, is adapted to the field of leadership coaching. Both domains share an emphasis on practice as a site of inquiry, where knowledge emerges through iterative cycles of action and reflection. In this sense, practice-led research aligns closely with the aims of my research, as briefly discussed here and in further detail in section 3.3.1.

First, practice-led research positions practice itself as the site of inquiry. This is central to coaching, which is inherently co-created between coach, leader and the organisational system around them. To understand how coaching ‘works’, it must be examined from within the relational field of practice, not at a distance.

Second, practice-led inquiry unfolds through cycles of action and reflection. This iterative rhythm parallels the lived reality of coaching, where moments of insight are tested, resisted, or re-worked in the flow of practice. Treating these moments not as failures but as sites of inquiry honours the methodological foundation of action research while extending them into the coaching space.

Third, practice-led approaches acknowledge the researcher’s own practice as a form of knowledge. In coaching this means recognising that I am not a neutral facilitator. My assumptions, histories and emotional responses inevitably shape the work. By treating these as legitimate data, practice-led research provides a disciplined way to surface and examine how the coach’s stance influences the movement from insight-to-action.

Finally, a practice-led lens makes it possible to engage directly with the complexity that often derails change. Rationalist, behaviourist or purely goal-driven models may describe what leaders should do, but they can struggle to capture the unconscious, relational and systemic dynamics that shape what actually happens in practice. By contrast, practice-led research treats these dynamics not as obstacles to be managed away but as part of the inquiry itself. This allows me to examine how the insight-to-action gap is sustained, and to notice more carefully how different coaching interventions may either disrupt or reinforce habitual leadership patterns.

1.5.3 A Flexible research design

This research design is intended to be open and adaptive, reflecting the unfolding and context- specific nature of coaching work. I expect it to be shaped as much by what emerges along the way as by what is planned at the outset.

The following principles are intended as orienting commitments rather than rigid rules:

• A commitment to reflexivity: continually examining how my positionality influences my research, while balancing structure with adaptability and responding to emerging patterns rather than imposing a fixed trajectory. • A focus on co-creation: recognising that leadership development is rarely an individual act but emerges through relational processes and within organisational systems. • A recognition of complexity: resisting the temptation to simplify or reduce the insight-to- action gap to a single cause or solution.

The purpose of this design is to surface practice-informed insights into how coaching can more effectively engage with the psychodynamic, relational and systemic conditions that shape whether and how insight becomes sustained behavioural change.

1.6 Chapter 1 reflection

As I look back over this chapter, the insight-to-action gap feels less like a single problem and more like a set of tensions that keep showing up in practice. Naming the pattern has helped and it has also unsettled some of my earlier assumptions about what coaching makes possible. Leaders often have genuine moments of realisation in coaching. What still troubles me is how often those moments do not carry through into everyday behaviour.

If the gap is not simply about willpower, then it seems likely that other factors are involved. Why do some conversations lead to movement while others do not, even when the insight seems equally clear? The answers appear to sit in places that are harder to see, in unconscious fears, habits that feel safe under pressure and relational patterns that hold things in place.

I am also beginning to see how the coaching process itself can contribute. Coaching can hold people safely enough to think. It can also, without meaning to protect the very patterns that need to shift. In practice I find myself working at two edges at once. Holding enough safety to face what is difficult. Inviting enough stretch to test new ways of acting. Insight can open possibilities. Habit can close them just as quickly. These are not simple choices. They are live dynamics that shape what happens next.

To take these questions further, Chapter 2 will examine whether coaching frameworks built around self-awareness, planning and performance can speak to these tensions. It will also explore whether (SP), (NS) and (AM) can provide explanations that sit closer to what is happening in the room and at work. The aim is not to close the questions raised here. It is to build a clearer base for the practice-led inquiry that follows in Chapter 3.

Chapter 2 The Literature Review

2.0 Exploring the landscape

After naming the dilemma I invite the leader to actively explore how we might understand the dilemma before finding ways to ‘fix it’. That is the stance I adopt in this chapter. Having identified the insight-to-action gap as a persistent and challenging tension in leadership coaching in the prelude and chapter 1, I review and consider how the existing research has addressed similar questions.

This chapter mirrors the phase in coaching where a leader begins to gain clarity by exploring different perspectives and frameworks to help make sense of their dilemma. It will often involve adopting a broader view, recognising the underlying patterns that can influence their experience, and finding language that helps them to locate themselves more accurately. The purpose is to work with ambiguity and gain clarity about the discomfort that is felt to a more grounded curiosity.

I will draw on three conceptual frames, systems psychodynamics (SP), neuroscience (NS) and action methodologies (AM), to help consider the dilemma from different yet complimentary traditions. Their role is to act as a guide, offering ways of thinking and vocabularies that support a more nuanced and integrated understanding of why insight alone might not be enough to drive change. I listen to each paradigm as I would to a leader in session, noticing where it resonates and where it does not.

As I clarify the questions my thesis will hold, I will engage with the complexity that other researchers have explored and embrace multiple perspectives along the way. My intention is to build upon my exploration presented in the Prelude and Chapter 1 by framing it within a broader context. In connecting my lived experience with ongoing inquiry, I want to expose the questions that I will carry forward and will aim to ensure they are grounded, informed and ready to be examined through my practice.

The literature review is organised around a small set of guiding questions that surface recurring tensions in how the insight-to-action gap has been understood and addressed in coaching research. These tensions are not treated as fixed categories, but as patterns that emerge across different strands of the literature. The sections that follow explore these tensions through a small number of thematic lenses, allowing different theoretical perspectives to be examined in relation to the same underlying questions. This structure supports conceptual integration and depth, rather than broad aggregation, and reflects the exploratory and sense-making stance adopted throughout this chapter, which directly informs the practice-led methodological design developed in Chapter 3.

2.1 Introduction

As explored in chapter 1, leadership coaching is often based on the belief that self-awareness forms the foundation for transformation and with awareness being the catalyst for change. This belief assumes that once leaders gain clarity about their patterns, behaviours and dynamics they will naturally adjust how they lead. However, the gap between developing insight and taking action still continues despite the extensive research and ongoing advancements in coaching practice and theory (Kegan & Lahey 2009; de Haan 2021; Ahmadi & Vogel 2023).

It concerns me that leaders so frequently revert to their old habits, despite coaching being intended to facilitate behavioural shifts. Why does this happen? This makes me think that coaching does not fully account for the dynamics that keep these habitual leadership behaviours in place. Despite the growing evidence to suggest that awareness alone rarely disrupts entrenched ways of thinking and acting (Kegan & Lahey 2009; de Haan 2021; Ahmadi & Vogel 2023) that challenges the assumption that knowing leads to doing I suggest the insights that have been generated through my research in itself have not been applied. I have experienced leaders, as outlined in the previous chapters, engage in deep reflection during coaching sessions, articulating new insights and expressing commitment to change and when they return to their organisational environment they often default to their habitual patterns. Coaching, even with its emphasis on reflection and growth, does not always ensure that change is created let alone sustained (Ahmadi & Vogel 2023).

In this chapter I explore this contradiction as an ongoing tension within coaching itself. Instead of framing the insight-to-action gap as a shortcoming of the leaders, I consider whether the persistence of the insight-to-action gap is more reflective of coachings own underlying assumptions. If self- awareness is necessary but insufficient for transformation I wonder what other conditions might be required to enable behaviour change?

If leadership transformation is relational (as explored in Chapter 1), then coaching must be examined not only as a site of potential change but also as a space where resistance might be sustained. To what extent does the coaching process mirror or maintain a leader’s defensive structures? If leaders unconsciously seek validation rather than disruption and if coaches, consciously or unconsciously, hold back from challenging these patterns, might coaching at times reinforce rather than interrupt what it seeks to transform?

For me, all these reflections make me wonder about the dynamics within my coaching relationships and also about how the coaching field has evolved in its understanding of change. They encourage me to deepen my own understanding of how coaching engages with change and how the field’s approach to enabling change has developed over time.

During the 1990s, the focus of coaching appeared to shift from a largely remedial, performance-fixing exercise toward a more developmental practice influenced by positive psychology, adult development theory, and systems thinking (Grant 2002). I need to consider why coaching, despite this evolution, continues to struggles with the transferability of awareness and in sustaining the behavioural change beyond the coaching engagement (Passmore & Sinclair 2024).

The theoretical perspectives of (SP), (NS) and (AM), offer both distinct and complementary insights into why self-awareness doesn’t always translate into behavioural change:

● (SP) proposes that resistance to change is not only about motivation or willpower. (SP) suggests it often reflects the unconscious defence mechanisms, transference dynamics and systemic anxieties that keep the habitual behaviours in place (de Haan 2021).

● (NS) positions that change is as psychological as it is biological. It demonstrates how stress responses, neural pathways and cognitive limitations that reinforce routine behaviours even when someone generates a genuine insight (Rock & Schwartz 2006; Davidson & Begley 2012).

● (AM) challenges the assumption that insight must come before action. (AM) suggest that leaders often learn through doing and that transformation may emerge more through action than through insight alone (Argyris & Schön 1991; Revans 2011; Pedler 2013).

It is important to note that none of these perspectives by themselves offer a complete explanation to the insight-to-action gap, nor do they promise a unified approach to resolving it. Instead, each one highlights tensions that coaching has yet to fully resolve. In this chapter I organise those tensions around three guiding questions:

● Is coaching about generating insight or changing behaviour? If awareness does not reliably lead to action what purpose does insight serve?

● How does containment influence change? While coaching is often described as a safe space for reflection does that safety also support the maintenance of defensive routines rather than their disruption?

● When does action reinforce learning and when might it bypass lasting transformation? If habits are neurobiologically embedded does lasting change depend more on behavioural reinforcement than reflection? And if leaders must act their way into new identities how can coaching scaffold that process?

I encounter these dilemmas in my day-to-day practice of coaching and they influence how I choose to intervene, when I challenge and how I support the leaders I work with. This chapter holds these questions in mind as I examine how different theoretical frameworks account for challenge of translating insight into sustained change.

The chapter is structured as follows:

● In section 2.2 I revisit coaching’s evolution from its early and remedial beginnings through to its shift toward developmental approaches and consider why its the difficulty with transferability still exists.

● In section 2.3 I introduce the systems psychodynamics (SP) perspective and explore how unconscious processes may lead leaders to revert to old patterns.

● In section 2.4 I examine insights from neuroscience (NS), considering how habit formation, stress and neural plasticity affect the sustainability of new behaviours • In section 2.5 I discuss action methodologies and question whether coaching has placed too much emphasis on reflection at the expense of structured behavioural experimentation.

My intention is to explore continue exploring the tensions that are emerging in my coaching practice. For example, there is the paradox of containment, where the capacity to hold and process another’s emotional experience can create the conditions for change, yet at times may also stabilise defensive patterns. There is also the friction between insight and action, where knowing does not reliably lead to doing. Finally, there is the interplay between psychodynamic defences and biological constraints where these dynamics can keep behaviours entrenched behaviours even when the leader consciously wants to change. These tensions continue to inform the direction of my research and will underpin my research questions and the methodology which is detailed in Chapter 3.

2.2 The Evolution of leadership coaching

From my reading the early coaching practices were often remedial focusing on fixing problems by improving performance and correcting behaviours. They were shaped by rationalist and behaviourist traditions, and they carried an implicit assumption that once leaders recognised ineffective behaviours, they would naturally correct them (Cannon-Bowers et al. 2023). This premise was challenged as further research and practice began to reveal the complexities of leadership development leading to theoretical advancements to coaching (Bozer & Jones 2018; Athanasopoulou & Dopson 2018).

However, despite these advancements I continue to notice elements of that rationalist framing in how coaching engagements are expected to deliver outcomes. My experience suggests that the belief that insight leads directly to behavioural change still underpins many coaching approaches (de Haan et al. 2020; Bozer & Jones 2018), even in ones that emphasise reflection or psychodynamic depth (Ely et al. 2010; Day et al. 2014). At times, I have observed an overemphasis on ‘fixing’ and ‘immediate results’ that persists implicitly, influencing how both coaches and organisations frame development.

I experience this tension when I work with leaders who temporarily adjust their approach during coaching only to revert as soon as their organisational pressures reassert themselves. For me these moments suggest that the workplace context often overwhelms even the sincerest attempts at change. This difficulty in creating and sustaining new behaviours beyond coaching remains a persistent challenge.

Rather than presenting coaching’s evolution as a neat linear shift from deficit correction to developmental transformation, I am interested in uncovering and exploring the contradictions that I believe continue to influence the practice of coaching. I want to challenge how rationalist, goal- oriented methodologies such as cognitive behavioural coaching (CBC) and solution-focused approaches embedded the assumption that awareness and action are sequentially linked. I want to then consider why developmental coaching, which places greater emphasis on reflection and identity still appears to struggle with sustaining change in practice. I will reflect on why, even as coaching approaches have been said to have evolved, they may not fully account for the psychodynamic, relational and systemic dynamics that inhibit lasting transformation.

Through my exploration I have identified three interrelated tensions that believe continue to influence coaching:

● Is coaching about generating insight or changing behaviour?

● Do different coaching approaches privilege reflection over action or vice versa, and does this balance affect whether insight translates into change?

● Does the coaching alliance disrupt habitual patterns or reinforce them?

As I explore these questions, my attention is drawn to how assumptions within the field continue to influence coaching practice. I am also in some ways surprised and curious about how and why earlier ideas continue to inform current approaches and how these ideas intersect with my own experience as a coach. This leads me question how I understand coaching’s purpose and methods, and how they continue to evolve in response to the realities of transformation.

2.2.1 Coaching as a rationalist paradigm

Coaching’s early methodologies were shaped by a rationalist paradigm, one that tended to assume change is a function of deliberate decision making, structured goal setting and reflective insight. 24 These approaches emerged from cognitive psychology and behaviourist traditions, which frame leadership coaching as a process of problem identification, action planning, and behavioural correction (Athanasopoulou & Dopson 2018; Bozer & Jones 2018).

One of the most dominant models within this paradigm is Cognitive Behavioural Coaching (CBC). Developed from cognitive behavioural therapy (CBT) principles, CBC assumes that leaders can modify their behaviours by recognising and restructuring maladaptive thought patterns (Neenan & Dryden 2020). I understand it as structured, like related approaches, around problem solving and self- regulation by positioning coaching as a method for identifying leadership challenges and by setting measurable goals and implementing behavioural adjustments.

I notice that a similar logic underpins solution focused coaching which also assumes that leaders can be guided towards more effective behaviours by clarifying their goals, analysing obstacles and designing action plans to overcome them (Whitmore 2010; Sonesh et al. 2015; Grant 2022). Both CBC and solution focused approaches rest on a core assumption that once leaders become aware of their ineffective patterns and commit to change, behavioural shifts will follow naturally.

I have seen how this rationalist assumption continues to shape many contemporary coaching practices. Despite the literature suggesting that coaching has moved towards more reflective and psychodynamicly attuned approaches coaching engagements still typically begin with an articulation of goals (Muller & Kotte 2020). It is often assumed that once leaders can define the change they want, they can execute in a structured and linear fashion. In my experience, the process is rarely that straightforward. The logic of problem-solving and performance still exists, even within approaches that have moved to focussing on transformation and identity.

Regardless of its influence, I have found that CBC and other goal-oriented methodologies have struggled to consistently address one of coaching’s most enduring challenges being the persistence of habitual behaviours. I am viewing the insight-to-action gap as a core tension within these models as they continue to assume that self-awareness alone is sufficient for behavioural change regardless of the research continually reporting that leaders more often than not revert to old patterns under stress, despite having clear cognitive insight into what needs to change (Pfeffer & Sutton 1999).

This raises a crucial question, if rationalist and goal setting approaches to coaching do not reliably support sustained change then what else might be required? If coaching has moved beyond performance correction why might it still struggle to ensure that insight translates into action?

2.2.2 The rise of developmental coaching

The 1990s marked a conceptual shift in coaching that was influenced by positive psychology, adult development theory and systemic approaches to leadership. Coaching was, as a result, reframed as a developmental process that was no longer focused solely on fixing the individual dysfunction. Instead the focus became about enhancing self-awareness, fostering emotional intelligence and facilitating transformational growth (Grant 2002; Day et al. 2014; Passmore & Sinclair 2024). In reframing coaching in this way it expanded the scope of coaching. Coaching was now positioned for deep self- reflection and identity exploration where leaders could examine their unconscious biases, habitual defences and evolving sense of self (Ibarra 2015).

Through this evolution developmental coaching overtly challenged the rationalist premise that behaviour change results from structured goal setting. In contrast developmental coaching is built on the assumption that sustained transformation requires leaders to work at the level of meaning making by exploring their internal narratives, their emotional patterns and their underlying assumptions about leadership. This approach appeared to move coaching away from being prescriptive problem solving and towards being a reflective process of self-discovery.

Despite its emphasis on psychodynamic depth, developmental coaching has not fully resolved the insight-to-action gap. A leader may emerge from coaching with a more nuanced understanding of their leadership identity; however, they often continue to struggle to enact behavioural change in their organisational environment. This reflects a tension between insight and enactment in context. It appears that even when coaching has embraced self-reflection as a pathway to transformation, it does not fully explain why insight still fails to translate into action (Kegan & Lahey 2009; Ahmadi & Vogel 2023).

If coaching prioritises awareness over structured behavioural reinforcement, could it be because leaders are remaining in cycles of reflection and not taking the step to act on the insights? This question reiterates the tension explored in the prelude and section 1.5. When do safety and reflection become comforts that prevent experimentation?

2.2.3 The problem of insight-to-action transfer

If developmental coaching has not fully resolved the long-standing challenge of creating new and embedding leadership behaviours, then what is preventing the transformation from truly taking hold? The difficulty of transferring insights into lived organisational practice, what I refer to as the problem of transferability, suggests that other layers of influence may be at play (Kegan & Lahey 2009). Here, transferability refers to whether insight gained in coaching carries into sustained behaviour in context.

In my own coaching work, I noticed how change could feel possible in the coaching room yet fade quickly afterwards, this suggests that intention alone is rarely enough. Could this point to the importance of the relational, systemic or psychodynamic conditions that hold behaviours in place?

It also raises a further concern, in that, even though coaching has evolved from its performance focused foundation, some rationalist assumptions may still persist beneath developmental approaches. If awareness is implicitly assumed to generate action, even in reflective or identity- based coaching, the persistence of the insight-to-action gap indicates that these assumptions require closer examination.

The following sections introduce three perspectives, (SP), (NS) and (AM), each of which pushes back on coaching’s more traditional assumptions:

● (SP) points to the unconscious dynamics, such as defence mechanisms or transference, that can shape whether or not insight becomes action (de Haan 2021).

● (NS) draws attention to how behaviours become biologically entrenched through stress- based habit loops, making them difficult to override through cognition alone (Davidson & Begley 2012; Rock & Schwartz 2006).

● (AM) challenges the idea that insight must come first, suggesting instead that it’s often through action and the learning that comes with it that change becomes possible (Argyris & Schön 1991; Revans 2011).

Together these perspectives suggest that self-awareness might be necessary, however, my view is that it is rarely sufficient on its own. And if that’s true, then coaching must do more than prompt reflection, it must engage with the conditions that allow or block change from being embedded.

In the sections ahead (2.3 to 2.5), I explore these perspectives further. What is becoming clearer to me is that the insight-to-action gap may not be a singular problem with a neat solution more a constellation of tensions that coaching must actively hold and work within. Each framework contributes differently, however, what they share is a call for coaching to stretch beyond its cognitive or reflective focus into something more embodied, systemic and dynamic.

2.2.4 Recognising Diverse Coaching Paradigms

As coaching theory has evolved, it has become clear that the field of coaching extends well beyond the rationalist and developmental traditions discussed earlier. The literature is cumbersome and there are multiple paradigms. Each of these offer distinct and at times complementary ways of understanding human development and change.

Humanistic coaching, for instance, builds on person-centred psychology and the humanistic emphasis on empathy, authenticity and the client’s innate potential for growth (Rogers 1961; Stober & Grant 2006). Empirical research further supports these claims, showing how humanistic coaching enhances relational connection, motivation and developmental outcomes (Falcão et al 2021).

Narrative coaching, by contrast, focuses on the stories and metaphors leaders use to make sense of their experiences, helping them to reauthor those narratives and unlock new possibilities for action (Stelter 2014; Drake 2018). Qualitative studies indicate that narrative approaches foster leadership identity reconstruction and deeper self-understanding (Stelter 2010; Lawrence 2018).

Psychodynamic approaches (explored further in section 2.3) draw on psychoanalytic concepts, attending to unconscious defences, transferences, and emotional undercurrents that shape leadership behaviour (Kilburg 2004; Western 2012). Empirical work in this field suggests such methods increase reflective capacity and adaptive functioning in complex organisational systems (Ward et al 2014; Cilliers 2018).

Likewise, somatic coaching brings attention to the body’s role in transformation by using breath, movement and embodied awareness to interrupt stress-driven habit loops and to enable more grounded and authentic leadership (Silsbee 2008; Strozzi-Heckler 2014). Recent phenomenological and physiological studies support that somatic awareness practices can enable emotional regulation and behavioural change (Kuhfuß et al 2021). Each of these paradigms offers valuable insights into how transformation occurs in coaching contexts.

Recognising the contributions of these coaching paradigms is important as helps me to clarify my focus unfortunately a comprehensive review of them is beyond the scope of my thesis. My decision to concentrate primarily on reviewing the rationalist and developmental paradigms was informed by their dominance in the literature, the frequent use in the organisations I work with and they influence they have had on my practice.

2.3 Systems psychodynamics

In developing my thinking about this section, I continue to reflect on the leaders I work with and most of the time they arrive with a clear intention to change and yet find themselves unable to follow through. On the surface, they appear ready for transformation. Beneath this something less visible seems to be at play. (SP) provides a useful lens for exploring these unseen dynamics offering insight into how unconscious defences, identity preservation and relational entanglements can influence whether new behaviours embed.

Coaching generally assumes that leaders engage with a conscious commitment to grow. They seek clarity, strategies and insight to meet the demands of leadership. Alongside this desire for change, a parallel layer of experience unfolds often outside conscious awareness (Obholzer & Roberts 1994). Leaders bring with them not only their goals but also unconscious resistance, ingrained defensive routines and long-standing relational scripts (Hirschhorn 1990). As I reflected on moments when leaders expressed clarity but still reverted to older patterns, I started to wonder what the emotional and the relational holds were that were contributing. It did not feel like it was motivation that was lacking it felt more like something felt too difficult to talk about or something that was outreach and could not be named.

(SP) offered a way to for me reframe how I understood resistance. Instead of seeing it only as a matter of mindset or behaviour, it helps me view leadership change as a layered and ongoing negotiation. These layers include how leaders see themselves, the anxieties held within the system and the expectations that shape relationships. These elements can subtly work to hold things in place (de Haan 2021). Resistance is, therefore, not simply a lack of motivation or will. It reflects the deeper psychodynamic and systemic patterns that exist within both the leader and the organisation they are part of.

In my practice, this does show up in familiar ways. A leader might speak passionately about wanting to empower others yet still hold tightly to control. Another might recognise the importance of having difficult conversations and yet continues to avoid them. These patterns are less about a leader’s conscious intent than about the unconscious defences and collusive organisational agreements that protect their sense of role, identity and emotional security within the system (Kets de Vries 2006).

(SP) also reminds us that these patterns do not exist in isolation. They are shaped and reinforced by the systems around them. Organisational cultures, leadership myths and collective anxieties can all play a part in keeping routine behaviours in place, even when those behaviours no longer serve the organisation’s goals. In this way, coaching can sometimes become part of the very system it hopes to change. When the wider organisation unconsciously depends on a leader’s habitual behaviour to maintain balance, coaching that focuses only on generating insight may unintentionally help preserve that equilibrium (Armstrong 2005; Krantz 2006; Petriglieri & Petriglieri 2020).

In my own practice I have become more alert to subtleties that signal when insight is present, yet the system is still protecting the status quo, including ‘reasonable’ deferrals of action, sudden shifts into explanation rather than experience, quick agreement that reduces tension, and moments where I find myself containing anxiety for the leader rather than disrupting the pattern. At these times, I sense the emotional stakes of change, where letting go of control does not simply mean adopting a new leadership behaviour but confronting fears about authority, worth, or failure. (SP) reminds me that leaders are not only navigating new skills; they are renegotiating the narratives that shape their leadership identity.

This raises important questions for coaching: what is being protected by the resistance, who or what might be invested in keeping things as they are, and how might the coaching space itself, despite our best intentions, collude with those patterns?

Ultimately, (SP) challenges the idea that leaders are always fully in charge of their development. It asks coaches to consider how unconscious processes, transference, projection, system wide anxieties, shape both the possibility and limits of change. For transformation to occur coaching must move beyond the assumption that insight alone will suffice. It must engage the psychodynamic, relational and systemic realities that silently govern how leaders think, feel and act.

2.3.1 Origins of systems psychodynamics in leadership coaching

Systems psychodynamics (SP) integrates ideas from early psychoanalytic thinkers and applies them to organisational life. It draws on Freud’s (1921) insights about unconscious drives, Klein’s (1959) object relations theory, and Bion’s (1962) work on group behaviour and containment, extending them into the study of systems and institutions. Together these concepts frame leadership and organisational life not only as rational and strategic activities but as emotionally charged, relational fields shaped by unconscious processes, collective anxieties and systemic dynamics.

In these early traditions, leadership was not simply seen as a role or set of actions but as a symbol in which deep fears, desires and past experiences are projected onto. Freud (1921) observed that leaders frequently come to occupy a symbolic role in the minds of followers eliciting unconscious transference dynamics that can reinforce authority structures in ways that are not always visible. Klein (1959) further developed this with her concept of splitting, where individuals unconsciously categorise authority figures as either idealised or persecutory that influences how trust, dependencies and resistances manifest in teams and organisations. Bion (1962) added to this through his theory of basic assumptions describing how unconscious patterns are shared when people are under they emerge and influence how people act and position themselves in relation to authority and change.

These psychoanalytic ideas have since evolved and found new relevance in leadership coaching. Recent empirical studies have begun to validate what psychoanalytic thinkers perceive in that change in coaching is not only about tools and goals but also about what happens relationally and unconsciously between coach and leader (de Haan et al 2020). They identify ‘hidden relational ingredients’ as crucial to the success or derailment of coaching outcomes.

de Haan et al. (2020) offer further empirical insight into these hidden dynamics. Their large-scale research of coaching relationships highlighted how subtle relational processes that often is beneath conscious awareness influences the effectiveness of coaching outcomes. This reinforces the (SP) claims that unconscious defences frequently surface within and through the coaching conversation. Wasylyshyn (2022) similarly explores how senior executives use self-imagery in coaching to stabilise identity. While these self-narratives may support growth, they can also operate as psychodynamic shields by preserving habitual roles and resisting change. These studies support empirical grounding to (SP)’s position that unconscious material is not simply theoretical when brought to consciousness it is observable, relational and influential in shaping coaching outcomes.

I have seen this play out in practice. There have been moments where a leaders attempt to try something new, like delegating more responsibility and it has stirred an unexpected tension in their team. That tension seems embedded in unconscious dynamics and is perhaps a fear of losing control, being perceived as incompetent or a group’s discomfort with the altered authority patterns. In some instances, I have observed due to the teams reaction, that tension returning to the leader and creating doubt or resistance that appears disproportionate to the action itself. Petriglieri and Petriglieri (2020) offer a helpful articulation of this, showing how repressed group anxieties and social defences shape leadership practices in ways that leaders can rarely name but often feel.

These dynamics are the essence of (SP)’s contribution to coaching. They challenge the assumption that leadership development can be fully understood or influenced through rational planning or structured goal setting alone. Leadership behaviours often reflect the interaction between internal identity narratives, relational dynamics and the organisational systems that unconsciously reinforce stability. Even when leaders express a desire to change, their behaviour may be sustained by unconscious loyalties, protective strategies or identity-defining beliefs that are not easily shifted.

Some more recent (SP) thinking is beginning to bridge this psychodynamic lens with the insights from (NS) by exploring how habitual patterns and defensive routines might become neurologically embedded over time (Geldenhuys 2022). This intersection suggests that the insight-to-action gap may not only be a cognitive or emotional issue but also a physiological one that is wired into the very structure of how leaders have learned how to lead and survive under pressure.

This raises an important question for coaching, to what extent do coaching interventions make space for these unconscious forces to be explored? If leaders are not always aware of the emotional and relational dynamics influencing their behaviour, how can coaching support change beyond what is consciously accessible? And what responsibility does the coach carry in noticing and working with these invisible dynamics, rather than inadvertently colluding with them?

These are the tensions (SP) surfaces and the provocations it offers to coaching practice. In my experience as a coach and a participant of (SP) coaching, (SP) does not offer a linear process from insight-to-action. (SP) encourages the exploration what lies beneath the surface, the fears, the attachments and the social contracts that may sustain the very patterns a leader wishes to leave behind.

2.3.2 Containment as a core function of coaching

Within (SP) theory, containment refers to the creation of an optimally bounded space for development, one with appropriate boundaries of time, task and territory. Originally, this concept emerged from Bion’s (1962) psychoanalytic idea of the ‘container-contained’ relationship, where a caregiver absorbs and transforms an infant’s overwhelming emotions into something manageable. Similarly, Winnicott’s (1960) ‘holding environment’ emphasises a caregiver’s sensitive responsiveness to distress which allows emotional regulation and developmental progression.

In coaching, containment consistently challenges me in how I can create psychological safety so leaders can explore their uncertainty, discomfort and complexity without feeling rushed into solutions (Bion 1962; Petriglieri & Petriglieri 2020). I had to learn that containment is not simply about unlimited comfort. It appears to be more about carefully calibrating structure and flexibility to hold anxiety productively (Diamond et al. 2004). It seems to require the me (as coach) to hold clear and yet flexible boundaries around the coaching process, as described in Green and Molenkamp’s (2005) BART model (Boundaries, Authority, Role and Task). I found myself questioning what explicit boundaries around session timings, roles and coaching tasks actually help a leader hold and process anxiety within a safe but dynamic framework (Green & Molenkamp 2005)?

It is challenging to create a contained space can be neither too tight nor too loose in its limits. Alderfer’s (1980) work always raises questions for me to reflect on. What happens when coaching becomes over bounded, when it is excessively rigid and safe does it stifle experimentation and growth? Conversely, if coaching becomes under bounded, when it is open or chaotic, does that leave the leader feeling exposed and unsupported? In either scenario, does it cause the true function of containment which is to hold anxiety in order to work through it compromised? Recent studies support the idea that overly rigid environments inhibit the very exploration they intend to support (French & Simpson 2010). I will continue to explore how a well contained coaching space maintains that dynamic balance offering safety to permit vulnerability without allowing stagnation (Winnicott 1960; Alderfer 1980).

When thinking about this more the coach’s role in containing is active and central. Winnicott’s (1960) idea of the holding environment makes me wonder about the coach’s capacity to tolerate and absorb the leaders distress, frustration or even aggression without becoming defensive. In my practice, this might mean I need to remain steady and empathetic allowing the leader to process difficult emotions. This leaves me questioning how do I know as a coach when to reinforce boundaries if the leader feels overwhelmed or when to challenge if the leader seems comfortably stuck. Managing these boundaries can be challenging and from my experience appear to require practical skill and nuanced sensitivity from coaches (Cilliers 2019; Green & Molenkamp 2005).

My initial coach training emphasised providing a safe space was the critical element of coaching. Over time and with developing experience it led me to question what a ‘safe space’ was. I found that too much safety, too much reassurance would cause the coaching engagement to inadvertently slip into a pattern of ‘comfort’ where insights were generated and accumulated instead of being acted on. This experience made me question whether the ‘safety’ that appears to allow open reflection actually becomes a shield from the discomfort of genuine change? Leaders often articulate insights or recognise longstanding patterns yet hesitate to move forward making me wonder if reflective coaching risks sliding into inertia (de Haan et al. 2020; Spaten 2020). On the other hand, if holding is withdrawn too quickly or if challenge is introduced without trust does the leader instinctively retreat? How do coaches recognise these subtle tipping points between effective containment and accidental avoidance?

These dilemmas keep returning as I ask when does containment enable development and when it might unconsciously foster resistance? Optimal containment might be conceived as an evolving ‘good enough’ space (Winnicott 1960), capable of holding a leaders uncertainty and discomfort up to a point. I wonder how we really know when the leader is ready to be nudged forward. I have found myself reflecting on whether empathy and holding might inadvertently reinforce a leaders avoidance. Is the real challenge knowing when to stay with the leaders anxiety and when to interrupt that avoidance allowing some discomfort without abandonment?

Containment then seems inherently dynamic rather than static. Effective coaches perhaps continually adjust the boundaries and bear the emotional weight of the journey helping the leader feel safe enough to explore and challenged enough to make developmental progress. A truly contained coaching space might not be about keeping the leader in prolonged reflection, instead, its role may be to create a secure enough base from which experimentation becomes possible (Cilliers 2019). In this way, coaching might aspire to embody Bion’s and Winnicott’s original visions of containment and holding of being stable and responsive to facilitate genuine developmental movement (Bion 1962; Winnicott 1960).

2.3.3 The coaching relationship as a site of transference and projection

As we are uncovering (SP) challenges the idea that coaching is a purely structured or objective dialogue. Instead, it frames the coaching space as a psychodynamic field, a charged, relational environment where unconscious dynamics are constantly being enacted and negotiated. It positions that leaders do not step into coaching as blank slates. They bring with them accumulated relational histories, how they’ve experienced authority, how they’ve led under scrutiny and how they have navigated praise, power and pressure in organisational life. These personal narratives and emotional residues subtly shape how they engage with coaching often long before either the coach or the leader consciously names them (de Haan et al. 2020).

This is where the concept of transference becomes important. Originally embedded in psychoanalysis, transference refers to the unconscious redirection of feelings, attitudes and relational patterns from significant relationships in the past onto a person in the present (Prasko et al. 2022). This phenomenon originates from the infant - primary carer relationship, where early interactions with a caregiver shape the infant’s template for all subsequent relationships. An infant who experiences consistent warmth and attunement from a caregiver learns to expect trustworthiness in others. Conversely, an infant exposed to inconsistent or punitive responses may internalise expectations of mistrust or anxiety in future relationships (Bowlby 1982; Holmes 2001). In coaching, this might mean that a leader experiences the coach not as they are but as a proxy for someone else, a former leader, a parent or a critical mentor. For example, a leader who has previously worked under punitive authority figures may experience even well-intentioned challenge as threat or judgment. Another leader, more familiar with environments that reward compliance, may unconsciously seek guidance, reassurance and validation from the coach and avoid any disruptive conversations (Petriglieri & Petriglieri 2020).

As with transference, projection can also shape the coaching relationship. Projection involves unconsciously locating or depositing unwanted parts of the self, such as difficult feelings, traits, desires or fears, in someone else (Klein 1946; Bion 1962). Like transference, projection emerges from early developmental experiences. An infant’s unmanageable feelings, such as distress or frustration, are often externalised onto the caregiver who ideally contains and returns these feelings in a more manageable form. When this containment is not consistently provided the infant may struggle later to regulate and own difficult feelings instead habitually projecting them outward (Bion 1962). A leader who struggles with their own need for control might repeatedly position their team as incapable or underperforming effectively externalising their internal struggle. Similarly, a leader anxious about conflict may perceive the coach’s straightforward feedback as being confrontational or overly forceful (Geldenhuys 2022). In both cases, the emotional charge in the room may have less to do with the content of the coaching and more to do with unacknowledged dynamics being played out between coach and leader.

Alongside projection sits countertransference, referring to the emotional reactions a coach experiences toward the leader. Such feelings, whether protectiveness, frustration or anxiety are not simply personal responses but often unconscious indicators of the leaders unresolved relational patterns (Armstrong 2005; Petriglieri & Petriglieri 2020; de Haan & Nilsson 2023). I find myself questioning how countertransference might subtly influence my coaching interventions. If a coach experiences unexplained frustration, could it indicate a leaders hidden anger toward authority? Recent studies suggest these emotional clues often reveal unconscious dynamics otherwise difficult to surface explicitly reinforcing the critical importance of coaches remaining attuned to their internal emotional cues (de Haan & Nilsson 2023).

These patterns are not rare they are in many ways inevitable. As (SP) makes clear, the coaching relationship is never truly neutral. Both the leader and the coach are participants in a relational field shaped by expectations, projections and unconscious roles. If coaching fails to recognise this, it risks missing crucial layers of resistance and misinterpreting relational dynamics as cognitive misunderstandings or ‘lack of readiness.’

This leads to a methodological tension. If a significant portion of what happens in coaching lives beneath the surface, shaped by transference, projection and relational history, coaches need ways to work with these dynamics as they arise. It’s not enough to set goals or clarify outcomes. Coaches must also be able to notice and explore the emotional cues that suggest these underlying relational dynamics are at play.

In my own coaching, I have come to view certain moments of dissonance when a leader responds with unexpected defensiveness or disengagement, not as a resistance to change but as data to reflect back and to inquire with more thoughtfully. At times I wonder whether a familiar relational script is being activated and whether I am, perhaps unknowingly, reinforcing a dynamic the leader is already primed to replay. There have been times where I have sensed a leader withdrawing after I offered a challenge and only upon later reflection did, I recognise how my timing, tone or positioning may have mirrored a past authority figure in their experience. These moments have taught me that feedback in coaching is never received in a vacuum, it is filtered through the leaders lived history and unconscious expectations.

If resistance shows up within the coaching relationship itself, as (SP) suggests it often does, then part of the coach’s task is to notice, name and work with these dynamics in real time. Kets de Vries (2022) argues that coaching informed by (SP) must be attuned to the emotional undercurrents beneath task focused dialogue. This means observing not just what a leader says but how they respond, what gets avoided, what triggers emotion and what relational pattern might be at work.

Ultimately, this perspective reframes the coaching relationship not as a static or neutral structure but as a living, co-created space one that can either reinforce old patterns or interrupt them. When coaches engage with transference, projection and countertransference not as problems to be fixed but as relational phenomena to be explored coaching becomes a richer, more transformational process. It shifts from simply helping a leader ‘think differently’ to helping them relate differently to power, to feedback, to themselves and to those they lead.

2.3.4 Narratives as psychodynamic containers

Thinking about this further when we consider leadership identity (SP) positions that it is continuously shaped, revised and defended in response to internal psychodynamic needs and external organisational demands. Within this view, leaders do not simply act on rational analysis or explicit expectations, rather, they craft evolving narratives about themselves and their leadership narratives that offer coherence, legitimacy and stability in an otherwise complex and uncertain world (Western 2012; Ahmadi & Vogel 2023). These narratives, however, do not always facilitate productive transformation as they can become psychodynamic anchors, holding long-held patterns of meaning making and behaviour in place, protecting the leader from discomfort and the thought of taking action can feel difficult and even impossible.

From a (SP) perspective, coaching must attend to how such narratives reinforce habitual responses. A recurring pattern I have observed is that leaders sometimes unconsciously reframe micromanagement as a form of ‘necessary competence’, essentially a self-justification for their controlling behaviour. For example, some leaders describe their reluctance to engage in conflict as ‘being collegial,’ a positive spin that masks underlying anxieties about confrontation or relinquishing control.

In such circumstances, even a compelling insight may not unsettle behaviour if the narrative scaffold remains intact. According to Spaten (2020), a well-timed disruption to a leaders narrative can indeed open up possibilities for growth but it may also prompt a retreat into rationalisation if the leader feels threatened. This emphasises the importance of the coach to calibrate the level of challenge carefully enough to prime the possibility of reframing the narrative for growth but not so much that the leader defensively withdraws. Cilliers et al. (2019) reasons that leaders’ identity narratives can become the psychodynamic containers that both hold meaning and act as defences and they therefore reinforce the habitual patterns. This introduces a central question, when and how can coaching create sufficient dissonance to question identity without threatening psychological safety? As Kets de Vries (2022) argues, transformational coaching demands more than surface level reflection, it requires a closer examination of the self-concepts that keep habitual patterns in place.

From this perspective, organisational cultures, leadership myths and group anxieties will often collude to stabilise existing behaviours even when they are misaligned with strategic goals. Coaching interventions that focus solely on individual insight may therefore risk reinforcing the very patterns they aim to disrupt, unless the wider system’s unconscious dynamics are also engaged (Armstrong 2005; Petriglieri & Petriglieri 2020).

These tensions raise further questions. If leadership identity is, at least in part, narrative construction, when does coaching enable re-authoring and when does it inadvertently stabilise the existing narrative? Is it possible for the coaching alliance to challenge the leaders narrative enough to create the possibility for change to be thinkable? When does affirmation slide into subtle collusion? These questions can feel particularly pressing when a leader articulates insight yet shifts little in practice. At those times, I find myself wondering whether resistance lies in the leader alone or in the narrative field we are co-creating.

(SP) practitioners contend that making unconscious dynamics explicit should free energy for purposeful experimentation, delegating differently, renegotiating boundaries or redesigning rituals. (Armstrong 2005; Petriglieri & Petriglieri 2020) How durable are these shifts once coaching ends and routine pressures resume? Does the depth of (SP) exploration sometimes overwhelm a leaders capacity to act, or is it precisely that depth which eventually enables lasting change? These questions will continue to influence how my research will iterate.

2.3.5 System psychodynamics’ critique of behavioural coaching

As discussed earlier in section 2.2, behavioural coaching models, particularly Cognitive Behavioural Coaching (CBC) and solution-focused approaches, assume that leadership transformation occurs through structured goal setting, cognitive reframing, and the deliberate practice of new behaviours (Whitmore 2010; Neenan & Dryden 2020; Neenan & Palmer 2021). These models rest on the premise that leaders can recognise unhelpful patterns, analyse barriers to change, and systematically replace old behaviours with more effective ones, provided they have clear goals and sufficient motivation. The literature suggests that while such goal-driven methods can achieve positive outcomes, they may not fully address the psychodynamic complexity underlying behaviour (Bozer & Jones 2018).

From an (SP) perspective, however, this assumption is limited. It reduces leadership transformation to a rationalist equation (insight + action = change) without accounting for the often unconscious investments leaders may have in maintaining existing patterns. It is not simply that leaders ‘struggle’ to implement change; rather, they may be psychodynamically bound to existing ways of leading in ways that are simultaneously frustrating and self-protective. Behaviourist coaching, when it frames resistance as a ‘barrier to be overcome’, may overlook how unconscious defence structures can function as stabilising mechanisms that protect identity and manage anxiety (de Haan 2021; Petriglieri & Petriglieri 2020).

(SP) critiques behaviouralist coaching’s over reliance on structured action, arguing that if interventions focus solely on behaviour modification, they may bypass the psychodynamic work that is required for authentic transformation. In other words, simply knowing what to change does not necessarily overcome the unconscious commitments or anxieties that often keep leaders entrenched in long-held patterns.

If I consider a leader who struggles with delegation or avoids conflict, this may not simply be a matter of cognitive misalignment; it may be a manifestation of an unconscious defensive structure that serves a psychodynamic function (Kets de Vries 2022). Coaching that is focused exclusively on behaviour modification by teaching new delegation strategies or conflict resolution skills may result in short-term improvements; however, as I have been exploring, leaders will often revert to old patterns under stress or uncertainty. If the underlying resistances are not surfaced and worked through, purely behaviourist techniques can inadvertently reinforce the very behaviours and defences they seek to change.

A pivotal challenge follows from this critique. Behaviouralist coaching that does not account for unconscious resistance may struggle to explain how behaviour is genuinely created and sustained over time. Ahmadi and Vogel (2023) highlight that leaders often find themselves in a knowing but not enacting bind because cognitive insight does not seamlessly translate into action. (SP) argues that resistance needs to be surfaced and worked through, which suggests that insight alone may be insufficient for lasting change. While bringing unconscious dynamics to awareness may be crucial, an exclusive focus on introspection may leave leaders intellectually convinced but practically unchanged.

(SP) based coaching interventions seek to address this by actively surfacing and disrupting unconscious resistance. They include:

● Transference based reflection (de Haan 2021) by encouraging leaders to identify emotional responses toward the coach as indicators of unresolved relational patterns.

● Amplification of contradictions (Kets de Vries 2006) by deliberately mirroring inconsistencies in a leaders expressed values vs. enacted behaviours to provoke greater awareness.

● Defensive pattern mapping (Hirschhorn 1990) by mapping habitual avoidance strategies the leader uses in decision making and confronting them through structured dialogue.

These methods may help evolve coaching beyond behavioural insights and towards psychodynamic transformation by supporting leaders to explore what needs to change and why change may be resisted. While (SP) offers a framework for uncovering unconscious dynamics, its effectiveness is dependent on how insight is translated into action within the leaders role and within the leaders system. Although many (SP) informed approaches do engage with behavioural change particularly through attention to role, authority and task, I remain uncertain about how consistently this work is extended beyond the coaching conversation based on my reading of the literature and practice experience. In this sense, (SP) invites reflection on resistance but may not always explicitly structure the behavioural reinforcement needed to embed new patterns in day-to-day practice.

One possible limitation of (SP)-informed coaching is that, while it explains why leaders resist change, it may be less explicit about how new leadership behaviours become reinforced in day-to-day practice. If new behaviours are not tested and reinforced under real-world pressures, coaching may become a space of insight without enactment (Sonesh et al. 2015). Grant (2002) similarly notes that repeated practice, coupled with reflection, is essential to bridging the gap between knowing and doing.

This tension between insight and action sets the stage for further exploration into the perspectives of (NS) and (AM), which challenge the premise that awareness alone suffices to sustain behavioural transformation. (NS) highlights the neural constraints on habit change demonstrating that stress responses and ingrained neural circuits frequently override conscious commitments to change (Davidson & Begley 2012). Meanwhile, (AM) asserts that leaders learn best through iterative cycles of behavioural experimentation. This suggests that successful transformation is often action led and not insight driven (Revans 2011; Pedler 2013).

If (SP) reveals the unconscious dynamics that can inhibit change, (NS) and (AM) may offer additional perspectives on how coaching can actively support the reinforcement and enactment of new leadership behaviours. Rather than replacing one another, these perspectives highlight different aspects of the insight-to-action challenge. The next section explores these tensions in greater depth considering how coaching might draw from all three to more effectively support sustainable behavioural transformation.

2.3.6 Is transformation primarily psychological or behavioural?

(SP) offers a compelling critique of rationalist coaching approaches, drawing attention to the unconscious dimensions of resistance, transference and leadership identity (Petriglieri & Petriglieri 2020). It highlights the importance of engaging with hidden psychodynamic forces that sustain entrenched leadership patterns. However, as noted earlier, the traditional coaching assumption that once insight is generated it will naturally lead to change still exists (Ahmadi & Vogel 2023). That persistent assumption leads me to wonder whether, if greater self-awareness is insufficient, what exactly enables insight to become embedded in behavioural shifts.

The tension between self-awareness and sustained behavioural change points to a central paradox in leadership development. Should transformation begin with uncovering and working through unconscious defences, or with immediate behavioural experimentation that disrupts entrenched habits? (SP) leans toward the former, suggesting that until defensive structures are surfaced and addressed (Kets de Vries 2022), change may not be achieved. In contrast, (NS) research proposes that action itself can rewire neural pathways, implying that transformation may not require full conscious insight before meaningful change emerges (Gardner et al. 2024).

The paradox creates a coaching dilemma. If deep reflection is prioritised without a focus on behavioural follow through, there is a risk that insight becomes a form of inaction. If coaching accelerates into action too quickly, it could bypass crucial emotional and relational insights necessary for sustainable change.

The (SP) concepts of containment, holding environment and boundaries can further complicate the dilemma. Containment, as previously introduced, involves the coach’s capacity to absorb and make sense of a leader’s anxiety by providing emotional steadiness. A holding environment, drawing from Winnicott’s (1960) developmental psychology, refers specifically to creating a secure relational space where leaders can tolerate uncertainty long enough to explore difficult emotions without feeling overly vulnerable. Boundaries, on the other hand, establish clear yet flexible structures around tasks, roles and expectations within coaching engagements as articulated through the BART framework (Green & Molenkamp 2005).

The interplay between containment, holding environment and boundaries raises further questions for me. Does a holding environment at times risk becoming overly comfortable, inadvertently encouraging reflective paralysis rather than forward movement? Can boundaries, if drawn too rigidly, stifle necessary experimentation, or if too loosely held, exacerbate anxiety and provoke regression (Cilliers & Greyvenstein 2012)? Rather than clarifying a simple way forward, these distinctions amplify the complexity coaches must navigate, balancing emotional safety, relational depth and actionable challenge without tipping toward inertia or overwhelm.

These competing demands are not easily resolved. If (SP) brings the psychodynamic and unconscious dynamics into focus, (NS) introduces biological constraints and (AM) argues that learning is fundamentally experiential, it raises the possibility of how these dimensions could be integrated to amplify their strengths. Integrating these perspectives could begin to address how to create a space where psychodynamic depth is not isolated from action and where behavioural experimentation does not bypass emotional or relational complexity.

Continuing the exploration, the following section engages with insights from (NS), examining how stress responses, neural habit formation and plasticity shape a leader’s capacity to sustain new behaviours. If coaching is to support enduring transformation, it must address not only the leader’s internal psychodynamic world (SP) but also the biological mechanisms that reinforce or disrupt behavioural patterns, particularly under conditions of stress (Gardner et al. 2024).

2.4 Neuroscience

(NS) then also raises important questions about the assumptions that underpin many coaching practices. If leadership behaviours are encoded at a biological level, coaching may not always be able to rely on self-awareness alone to facilitate change. If habitual responses are both cognitive and neurobiological, the conditions required to rewire these behaviours may not always be engaged explicitly in coaching practice. A growing body of neuroscientific evidence suggests that leadership habits, once formed, are difficult to override through intention alone (Gardner et al. 2024).

As discussed in previous sections, coaching has remained deeply invested in the idea of rational agency, assuming that once a leader gains insight into their behavioural patterns, they will be able to enact change through deliberate effort and structured reflection. (NS) tells a more complex narrative. Human behaviour is not always the product of conscious decision making; it is often governed by deeply embedded habit loops, threat responses and the brain’s tendency to prioritise efficiency over novelty (Duhigg 2012; LeDoux 2015; Geldenhuys 2022). In my own coaching work, I have seen how even highly motivated leaders can find themselves ‘on autopilot’ in moments of pressure, defaulting to ingrained habits almost before they realise it. A related challenge follows that if leadership behaviours are biologically constrained, coaching may need to engage more deliberately with the mechanisms that sustain or disrupt those patterns.

This section explores three key contributions that (NS) makes to understanding the persistence of the insight-to-action gap:

● The (NS) of habit formation: how and why leadership behaviours become entrenched, even when leaders are cognitively aware of the need for change.

● The impact of stress and perceived threat: how the body’s biological stress response influences the ability to enact new behaviours in real time.

● The role of neuroplasticity: what conditions must be in place for the brain to rewire itself and embed lasting behavioural transformation.

I’m beginning to see these strands as an invitation for coaching to move beyond insight and intention, pointing to the importance of neural, emotional and environmental reinforcement in embedding sustainable change.

2.4.1 How habits form and persist in leadership

(NS) has long demonstrated that human behaviour is governed more by efficiency than by conscious intention and that the brain is wired for predictability with frequently used neural pathways becoming stronger and more automatic over time (Davidson & Begley 2012; Gardner et al. 2024). Geldenhuys (2022) links this biological embedding to (SP) concepts noting how unconscious defences may be reinforced by neural habit loops. In leadership, this manifests as entrenched behavioural patterns that persist even when leaders rationally desire change. Reflecting on my own coaching conversations, I have often noticed how a leaders repeated responses in high stakes situations seem less like deliberate choices and more like near reflexive reactions.

As Solms (2021) argues, consciousness itself arises from affective drives rather than from detached cognition. This insight deepens the coaching perspective. When leaders have trouble changing behaviour, it may not be due to lack of insight but to unprocessed emotional motivations beneath the surface. These unconscious affective patterns, shaped by early experiences, form the scaffolding for what leaders pursue, avoid or defend against. From this perspective, behavioural patterns are not just cognitive or rational but they are biologically and emotionally encoded. This then suggests that unless these affective drivers are engaged coaching risks treating the symptom, not the source, of resistance to change.

‘Neurons that fire together wire together’ (as introduced in X.3.3) is a Hebbian learning principle that is held in the field that has come out of the work of Donald Hebb (2005), it can help explain why leadership habits become so deeply embedded. This principle suggests that each time a leader enacts a routine behaviour the associated neural circuits are reinforced increasing the likelihood of repetition. This has significant implications for coaching. If leadership behaviours are neurologically reinforced through repetition, then disrupting them requires more than insight, it demands structured and deliberate practice in real world conditions (Ahmadi & Vogel 2023).

The basal ganglia, a brain structure responsible for habitual and automatic behaviour (Graybiel 2008) also plays a central role. Unlike the prefrontal cortex, which governs rational analysis and conscious control, the basal ganglia enable leaders to operate on autopilot. Even when a leader commits to new behaviours the brain may default to habitual patterns under stress unless those patterns are consistently challenged and replaced.

Recent neuroscientific research has deepened our understanding of how habits are formed and why they persist. Buabang et al. (2025) explain that under stress or cognitive load, the brain shifts from goal directed behaviour to habitual responding and in doing so favours efficiency over adaptability. For leaders, this means that even strong coaching insight will most likely be overridden by automatic behavioural patterns in high pressure environments. They strongly emphasise that habit change depends not just on awareness but on context specific behavioural reinforcement including new cues, repeated actions and emotionally salient feedback. This aligns closely with coaching interventions that scaffold behavioural experimentation over time embedding new habits through structured practice.

This introduces a critical coaching dilemma. If habits are biologically encoded how can coaching, ensure that new behaviours are reinforced more effectively than the old? When coaching focuses primarily on cognitive insight, does it underestimate the importance of repetition and enactment in rewiring leadership habits (Sonesh et al. 2015)? And if leaders return to environments that reward speed and reactivity, is this why the very behaviours that the leader hopes to change inadvertently reinforced?

Research on stress-based learning (Davidson & Begley 2012) adds another layer to this challenge. In high pressure environments where reactive leadership is rewarded the brain strengthens these behaviours as survival strategies. If coaching doesn’t account for this by offering reflection but not addressing how systemic stressors shape behaviour it may serve more as a temporary buffer than a driver of lasting change (Geldenhuys 2022).

Is coaching adequately designed to counteract the neural persistence of stress driven habits or does it risk stabilising them by overlooking their systemic foundation? For behavioural change to take hold coaching may need to integrate stress regulation techniques, systemic interventions and habit reinforcement strategies tailored to the leaders real-world context (Boyatzis & Jack 2018). Without these even the most powerful insights risk collapsing under the weight of well-rehearsed neural circuits. This further insight is added to the methodological dilemmas already raised.

2.4.2 Stress, emotion and affect

While habit formation explains why leaders often revert to old behaviours, (NS) also highlights how stress can actively block behavioural change. Coaching frequently assumes that when change does not stick it is due to a lack of commitment or discipline. However, (NS) suggests another explanation that under stress the brain prioritises survival and efficiency over conscious reflection (Kniffin et al. 2020).

When a leader experiences stress, the amygdala, the brain’s threat detection system, activates, redirecting cognitive resources away from the prefrontal cortex. Kniffin et al. (2020) show how workplace stressors, such as uncertainty and constant change, can activate these threat responses leading leaders to revert to ingrained patterns almost automatically. This may help explain why leaders, despite awareness of what needs to change, may revert to ingrained patterns under perceived threat (LeDoux 2015; Kniffin et al. 2020; Boyatzis & Jack 2018). I have seen leaders who, despite developing meaningful insight in coaching sessions, lose access to that reflective mindset the moment real world pressure kicks in. It is not necessarily that they forget their insights, rather, their brain reverts to the most neurologically accessible response.

The dopamine and reward system adds another layer to this challenge. Dopamine, the neurotransmitter linked to motivation, learning and habit reinforcement, strengthens behaviours that produce relief or a sense of accomplishment (Mkrtchian et al. 2025). So, if a leader habitually asserts control in stressful moments and feels a sense of mastery or stability, the brain begins to associate this reaction with success. Even if that leader rationally wants to delegate more or respond with curiosity, the effect of the dopaminergic reinforcement of old habits can make new behaviours even harder to sustain (Sverdlik & Oreg 2023).

This raises a further question about coaching. If stress reactivates default leadership patterns, can we reasonably expect leaders to adopt new behaviours without also addressing their physiological responses to stress? If leaders find a sense of safety in their habitual responses, then coaching may need to work more directly with stress regulation techniques to create the conditions in which new behaviours can be realised (Lindsay et al. 2025). Without this, coaching risks becoming a reflective buffer, a space of insight without impact, when leaders step back into high pressure environments.

It is also important to acknowledge that not all drivers of change are established in stress or the avoidance of failure. A thread in coaching research points to the potential of positive affect, optimism, curiosity and a sense of possibility in motivating leadership development (Fredrickson 2001). Rather than relying solely on anxiety or threat reduction, research has explored how leaders’ enthusiasm for future possibilities may catalyse new behaviours (Rock & Schwartz 2006).

Building on Panksepp’s (2004 p.145) concept of the SEEKING system, which is a core neural circuit associated with curiosity, exploration and intrinsic motivation, some researchers suggest that reframing goals in more positive or aspirational terms can activate the brain’s reward pathways. For example, shifting a development aim from ‘stop avoiding difficult conversations’ to ‘engage in open and transparent conversations’ may spark genuine interest, eliciting curiosity instead of fear. Fredrickson’s (2001) broaden and build theory indicates that positive emotions can expand cognitive and behavioural repertoires, enabling leaders to experiment more freely without becoming immobilised by stress responses.

Would a strong emphasis on positive affect gloss over underlying defences, as (SP) would caution? If a leader’s conflict aversion is tied to unconscious fears of losing control, optimistic reframing alone may not be enough to unsettle that defence. Similarly, (NS) shows that deeply ingrained habit loops will not dissolve simply because a leader feels hopeful; repeated practice and effective stress regulation remain crucial for embedding change. From an (AM) viewpoint, positive affect might help initiate cycles of experimentation, yet without consistent follow-through, even the most motivated leaders risk reverting to routine behaviours.

It may be critical to identify and understand situations where a leader’s progress depends on reframing goals in a more strengths-based and future-focused way. Still, the risk of overlooking underlying anxieties or systemic constraints invites caution. Positive affect should be recognised as a partial yet powerful driver of transformation, one that must be balanced with (SP) insight, neurobiological awareness, and structured experimentation in real-world conditions.

2.4.3 Neural plasticity and leadership transformation

If (SP) suggests that unconscious resistance must be surfaced for transformation to occur and (NS) demonstrates that habitual behaviours are deeply embedded in neural pathways, then neuroplasticity, the brain’s ability to rewire itself, offers crucial insight into how coaching might structure behavioural reinforcement for lasting change.

(NS) suggests that new leadership behaviours are more likely to become embedded when they are:

● Repeated frequently over time: new habits require embedded engagement before they can replace old patterns (Gardner et al. 2024).

● Emotionally significant: behaviours tied to strong emotional experiences are more likely to be neurologically encoded (Boyatzis & Jack 2018).

● Practised under moderate stress: learning is most effective when it occurs just beyond a leaders comfort zone, engaging both cognitive and affective capacities (Damasio 2018; Buabang et al. 2025).

If coaching overlooks these conditions, does it risk falling short of creating the neural scaffolding necessary for real transformation? If habit change requires high repetition and emotionally anchored practice, then coaching must do more than generate awareness, it must create the structure for behavioural reinforcement in everyday contexts (Sonesh et al. 2015). From my perspective, the coaching conversation may initiate a shift, however, without repeated and real-world testing under pressure those new neural circuits often remain too weak to hold.

Buabang et al. (2025) highlight that under cognitive load, such as stress, fatigue or ambiguity, the brain defaults to previously encoded routines. They describe habits as the brain’s ‘fail safe system,’ designed to prioritise speed over reflection in high pressure moments. For leaders, this means that unless new behaviours are intentionally reinforced in real world contexts, coaching insights are likely to be overridden by automatic, habitual responses. Their review also suggests that behavioural flexibility is biologically possible, however, only through repeated enactment and disruption of old patterns in their actual context.

These insights offer a bridge to the next theoretical perspective of (AM). While (SP) reveals unconscious resistance and (NS) highlights biological constraints, (AM) challenges the premise that insight must come first by positioning that transformation may instead emerge through the practice of action itself.

Coaching then may need to engage more directly with neurobiological mechanisms rather than assuming that increased insight alone can sustain behavioural change. Traditional coaching often focuses on reflection and cognitive clarity, but (NS) indicates that stress responses, habit loops and neural encoding play a greater role in sustaining leadership behaviours than conscious intention (Davidson & Begley 2012; Buabang et al. 2025). If these biological dimensions are not integrated, coaching may unintentionally overestimate leaders' ability to convert insight into action.

Several emerging coaching strategies informed by (NS) attempt to work with, rather than against, the brain’s architecture for change. One such approach is spaced repetition and implementation intentions (Sisti et al. 2007). Rather than aiming for large scale behavioural shifts leaders are encouraged to practise small, repeatable micro-behaviours over time. Repeating these actions across different settings helps reinforce the neural pathways associated with those behaviours gradually increasing the likelihood that they become automatic (Gardner et al. 2024). When paired with “if, then” implementation intentions, where behaviours are tied to specific environmental cues, habit formation becomes even more robust (Gollwitzer 1999).

A second technique involves somatic anchoring and stress regulation. Under pressure, the brain often defaults to survival driven responses bypassing conscious reflection (Boyatzis & Jack 2018). In such moments, physical cues such as breathwork, grounding or posture can act as interrupts restoring access to executive functioning. Anchoring new behaviours to these bodily states not only increases emotional regulation but also improves the likelihood that a leader can enact new responses under stress.

The third approach, often termed neuroplasticity coaching, focuses on the incremental reinforcement of new behaviours over time. Long term behavioural change does not typically emerge from insight alone, rather, it requires emotionally engaging, contextually relevant and repeated enactment of new habits (Buabang et al. 2025). Coaching that emphasises experimentation in real world conditions, supported by feedback loops and accountability structures, is more likely to align with the brain’s natural processes of adaptation and integration.

All of these approaches rely on intentional reinforcement. Coaching must extend beyond the session into everyday practice with feedback loops, accountability structures and contextual experimentation.

However, these techniques also raise questions:

● Does stress regulation simply make leaders more self-aware without actually disrupting deep behavioural patterns?

● Are coaches fully accounting for the neurological barriers that can stall transformation?

● If new behaviours require constant reinforcement what structural mechanisms must coaching provide to ensure these shifts become durable?

Cozolino (2016) argues that lasting change emerges through social and relational experiences that integrate cognition, emotion and physical practice an idea consistent with the role of coaching as a relational container for learning. By creating emotionally safe yet challenging contexts coaching can facilitate the neural ‘rewiring’ that transforms insight into sustained behavioural patterns.

Emerging neuroimaging research further supports this view. Jack et al. (2023) found that when coaching focuses on a leaders ‘Ideal Self’ articulating aspirations, values and future hopes it activates neural networks associated with openness, calm and integrative thinking. In contrast, ‘Real Self’ framing, which emphasises current deficits or performance problems stimulates brain regions tied to stress and analytic vigilance. Their findings suggest that coaching framed through hope and vision may biologically prime leaders for change while deficit-based approaches may inadvertently provoke defensiveness.

These tensions set the stage for the final theoretical lens (AM). If (NS) reveals how behaviour is biologically constrained, (AM) asks whether coaching must prioritise structured behavioural experimentation, not as an outcome of insight but as its foundation. The next section explores (AM)’s critique of coaching’s overreliance on reflection inviting me to consider whether doing might sometimes come before knowing.

2.5 Action methodologies

While exploring how (SP) illuminates unconscious dynamics and systemic roles and (NS) reveals how deeply embedded habits can persist despite insight I found myself asking what is it possible for leaders to reflect their way into new behaviours? (SP) suggests what matters is how leaders explore and examine they take up their role in the system and engage with the dynamics at work. While (SP) helps surface the defensive structures that may interfere with this and (NS) highlights the biological constraints that can reinforce them, (AM) then challenge a foundational assumption that reflection must come before action. (AM) suggest that change may require not just awareness but doing deliberate experimentation and action in context and the opportunity to learn through the demands of real work.

2.5.1 From reflective to enactive learning

Leadership coaching, as I have been exploring in this chapter, has long positioned self-awareness as the precursor to behavioural change, assuming that once leaders gain clarity about their patterns, they will naturally adjust their behaviours. This assumption is deeply embedded in developmental coaching which privileges reflection, identity exploration and emotional intelligence as key mechanisms of transformation (Passmore & Sinclair 2024). However, some researchers have challenged this emphasis on reflection, like Ibarra (2015) argues that leaders sometimes need to act like a leader in order to start thinking like one implying that practical experimentation is crucial to learning.

(AM) challenge this premise directly, arguing that leaders do not transform through insight alone but through cycles of testing, failing and refining their behaviours in practice. In this view, insight does not precede action it is action that generates insight. Leaders cannot fully anticipate the complexity of behavioural change until they step into it. It is through experience, meeting resistance, adapting and reflecting that genuine learning occurs (Argyris & Schön 1991; Sonesh et al. 2015). Recent evidence affirms this. For example, Nicolau et al. (2023) found that coaching had its strongest effects on behavioural outcomes when leaders were supported in applying learning through structured action between sessions. Halliwell et al. (2023) similarly observed that leadership behaviours improved the most when coaching involved repeated and real-world behavioural experiments.

This is the essence of action science, a theory developed by Chris Argyris and Donald Schön (1991), which exposes the gap between leaders’ espoused beliefs and their enacted behaviours. Argyris and Schön argue that many leaders believe they are acting in line with their values when in fact their behaviours often contradict those commitments. In this view, self-awareness alone is insufficient and that leaders can often be blind to their own behavioural inconsistencies. Double loop learning, which is a core concept of action science, suggests that real change requires interrogating not just behaviours but the assumptions that give rise to them (Argyris 2002).

Double loop learning differs from single loop learning, where leaders adjust their behaviours in response to surface level challenges. In contrast, double loop learning requires confronting the underlying beliefs, fears and mental models that sustain leadership habits. Without this kind of real time experimentation leaders risk interpreting coaching insights only at a conceptual level and never touching the underlying dynamics that keep them stuck (Day et al. 2014). Recent studies such as Cannon-Bowers et al. (2023) reinforce this by showing that coaching outcomes improve when sessions are explicitly structured to promote behavioural experimentation and accountability.

This reinforces my coaching dilemma. If leaders only engage in reflection, without actively testing their assumptions in real world settings, do they remain trapped in conceptual learning? If coaching remains confined to reflective dialogue, does this also risk reinforcing the very inertia coaching seeks to shift? Research confirms this risk that coaching programs that lack a strong action component often fail to produce sustained behaviour change (Cannon-Bowers et al. 2023; Wang et al. 2022). Halliwell et al. (2023) found that leadership development through coaching was most effective when insights were enacted and refined through repeated cycles of behaviour in the leaders actual environment.

The action first orientation of (AM) introduces its own complexity. If leaders unconsciously resist change, as (SP) argues, can action based coaching bypass important inner work? Might a leader simply rehearse old leadership scripts under the guise of innovation? For example, a leader accustomed to control might label delegation as ‘empowerment’ while still micromanaging in practice. In this case, iterative action may reinforce, rather than disrupt, the entrenched pattern (Geldenhuys 2022).

This creates a methodological dilemma. If action is itself a site of unconscious enactment, how can coaching ensure that behavioural experimentation challenges, rather than stabilises, habitual responses?

Action Learning, developed by Reg Revans (2011), extends this experiential logic further. Revans argued that leadership learning should take place amid live, complex challenges, not in hypothetical coaching conversations. From this perspective, coaching must structure learning around cycles of action, feedback and revision and not just reflection. If transformation is fundamentally experiential, must coaching move beyond insight generation and be designed around practice, testing and adaptation (Pedler 2013)? Recent evidence supports this. Leaders who engaged in small scale behavioural experiments during coaching sessions were more likely to report changes in how they led their teams as shown in longitudinal findings from Mosteo et al. (2021).

In my experience, the more I watched leaders experiment with new ways of engaging their teams, the more evident it became that action, even when imperfect, exposes underlying dynamics that self-reflection alone often misses. This action-oriented approach can also activate leaders’ psychodynamic defences. As (SP) reminds us, unresolved fears and anxieties can influence how leaders enact even the most well-intentioned experiments. In this sense, doing can become another form of avoidance, a way of staying active rather than becoming genuinely open or vulnerable.

The tensions remain. While (AM) make a powerful case for enactive learning it must be situated within a coaching approach that also attends to what is avoided, resisted or rationalised in the act of doing.

2.5.2 Bridging the knowing and doing gap

As highlighted in earlier sections (2.2.3 and 2.3.6), the persistent gap between knowing and doing has long been a challenge for leadership development (Pfeffer & Sutton 1999; Ahmadi & Vogel 2023). While 2.2.3 framed this as a problem of transferability, I now extend the discussion through the lens of (AM), which emphasises that reflection alone is not enough unless it is reinforced through action.

While traditional coaching paradigms have typically assumed that self-awareness naturally leads to action. Theorists and practitioners of (AM) counter that without structured, real world experimentation, insight risks becoming a form of intellectualisation rather than transformation (Ahmadi & Vogel 2023).

Recent empirical and meta-analytic studies offer strong support for this critique. Nicolau et al. (2023) found that coaching produced its most significant impacts on behavioural outcomes particularly when sessions were reinforced with between session action. Halliwell et al. (2023) similarly demonstrated that observable leadership behaviours increased when coaching included structured iterative action cycles. de Haan and Nilsson (2023), in a meta-analysis of randomised controlled experiments, found that coaching has statistically significant, moderate effects on behavioural and personal outcomes. Their findings suggest that coaching is particularly effective when it involves dynamic interaction between coach and leader and when it supports the application of new skills in real world contexts. This evidence aligns with the view that effective coaching should engage both reflective processes and behavioural experimentation encouraging leaders to try out and adapt new behaviours beyond the coaching session.

This raises an important question. When does reflective coaching become an avoidance mechanism? If leaders are not required or supported to test new behaviours in the contexts where change is actually needed does coaching risk remaining a conceptual exercise? Kegan and Lahey’s (2009) work on immunity to change is especially relevant. They demonstrate how deeply held beliefs and hidden commitments often block leaders from acting on their stated intentions no matter how insightful those intentions may be.

(AM) insist that action is not just a follow up to insight that it is often the necessary condition for generating insight. However, it also complicates matters by evoking a further question. When does action enable growth and when does it bypass the transformative work that (SP) deems necessary? If leaders engage in behavioural experiments that remain on the surface, experimenting with new techniques without confronting the psychodynamic or systemic forces that underpin their old habits, they may simply rehearse existing patterns under new guises (Cannon-Bowers et al. 2023; Halliwell et al. 2023).

Halliwell et al. (2023) emphasise that one off behavioural shifts are rarely enough. Coaching must involve repeated action over time with feedback loops that allow learning to evolve through repetition and complexity. Without these conditions even well-intentioned action may fail to take hold.

This contradiction is coaching’s methodological dilemma. How can coaching integrate both reflective depth and behavioural experimentation without over relying on either? Argyris (2002) offers a way forward arguing that leaders must both interrogate their core assumptions and test those assumptions in action. These iterative cycles of insight, experiment, feedback and revision are essential to revealing inconsistencies that would remain hidden in purely conceptual work.

Without these cycles coaching may inadvertently reinforce the very patterns it seeks to challenge, providing language for change but not the scaffolding to live it out. In this view, action is not the opposite of reflection but a necessary partner. Transformation, from the lens of (AM), emerges through the tension between what leaders say they want and what they actually do when faced with real world complexity.

2.5.3 Leadership development as a social process

(AM) raise an important critique of coaching’s traditional structure and the individualised nature of leadership development. Most coaching frameworks treat growth as a personal journey centred on the leaders self-awareness, agency and responsibility for enacting change (Grant 2017). However, as it becomes clearer, leadership is not purely an individual enterprise. It is inherently relational, systemic and social. If leaders must shift their behaviours within the realities of team dynamics and organisational cultures can coaching truly be effective if it remains a solitary, one to one intervention?

Action Learning makes a compelling case for a more collective approach. It suggests that leaders often learn most effectively when embedded in peer-based environments where they can experiment with new behaviours in real time, receive feedback and adapt in response to group interactions (Pedler 2013; Aspinwall et al. 2018). In this setting, learning is dynamic, responsive and relational quite different from the reflective, contained space of traditional coaching conversations. This contrast raises a methodological challenge. Does coaching’s emphasis on individual reflection risk disconnecting leaders from the very contexts where change must occur?

If leadership transformation is socially enacted, through teams, authority relationships and cultural norms, then change must be understood as socially reinforced. Bozer and Jones (2018) highlight that coaching outcomes often improve when leaders are supported by peer learning structures or collective accountability suggesting that the individualised model may be overlooking key levers of change.

This reframing also questions the implicit boundaries of the coaching space. If coaching takes place away from the relational field in which leaders operate, does it risk preparing leaders for transformation in theory but not in practice? By contrast, embedding action cycles within collective settings may increase the likelihood that behavioural shifts are tested, witnessed and reinforced by others making the change not only possible but more likely to be embedded.

As (AM) suggest, leadership is less about isolated self-mastery and more about learning to navigate and influence complex human systems. Would coaching benefit from blending individual insight with collective engagement, enabling leaders to experiment in the environments where their leadership is actually lived?

2.5.4 How does behavioural experimentation interact with unconscious resistance?

(AM) directly challenge coaching’s traditional reliance on self-awareness as a mechanism for change. They propose that leaders learn best by doing, through real world experimentation rather than by reflection alone. However, while this perspective offers a powerful alternative to insight driven coaching, it also presents its own tensions.

(SP) suggests that a leader’s resistance to change is often unconscious and embedded within defence structures that protect their existing leadership identity. If this is the case, then how does (AM) account for the influence of these hidden dynamics within the learning process? If a leader is unaware of the underlying psychodynamic attachments that sustain their behavioural patterns, then repeated action without reflection might simply reinforce those patterns rather than interrupt them (Brunning, 2006).

This highlights a potential blind spot in the (AM) emphasis on iteration that action does not occur in a vacuum. As discussed in section 1.2.2, organisational culture and hierarchy heavily shape whether behavioural experimentation is supported or suppressed. In tightly controlled environments, leaders who attempt collaborative or risk-taking behaviours may be criticised or subtly discouraged, causing them to retreat into old, more ‘approved’ habits. By contrast, in psychologically safe, adaptive settings, such experimentation may be welcomed and reinforced. If coaching overlooks these systemic realities, it risks presenting (AM) as an individual pursuit rather than a practice embedded within complex, relational contexts.

This raises a further methodological question. If coaching seeks to integrate both structured behavioural experimentation through (AM) and an awareness of unconscious resistance through (SP), how can it effectively balance these competing imperatives? If action is necessary for learning but the way leaders act is shaped by unconscious commitments, then coaching must take care not to confuse surface level experimentation with genuine transformation. The challenge is to ensure that action doesn’t simply become another way of enacting the very patterns it aims to change. de Haan et al. (2020) note that many coaching relationships are shaped by hidden relational dynamics, subtle enactments of transference, projection or unconscious collusion, which, if left unexamined can derail the change process. This suggests that behavioural experimentation must be accompanied by reflective inquiry into how action is influenced by both psychodynamic defences and systemic conditions.

These contradictions do not indicate the failure of either approach but rather point to the need for a more integrated and dynamic coaching methodology. One that recognises that behavioural change is not simply a matter of doing something new but of confronting and working through what keeps the old in place. This insight forms the foundation for the practice-led research approach I explore in the next chapter. Rather than relying on theory alone, I design a methodological framework that allows these tensions between unconscious resistance, biological habit and behavioural experimentation to be tested in real coaching contexts. In doing so, I hope to explore not just how leaders understand change but how they live it.

2.6 Holding the tensions

As this chapter draws to a close it becomes clear that no single theoretical lens can fully explain why insight does not consistently translate into action in leadership coaching. Each of the three frameworks explored, (SP), (NS) and (AM), offer a compelling but partial explanation. Together they point to conditions in the coaching relationship and wider relational and systemic conditions that can enable or obstruct the movement from insight-to-action.

● (SP) surfaces the unconscious defences and relational dynamics that inhibit change, revealing how psychodynamic resistance can persist even in the presence of cognitive insight.

● (NS) reveals how entrenched behaviours are biologically encoded through neural pathways and stress responses, explaining why the brain so often defaults to routine patterns.

● (AM) question whether insight must precede change at all, suggesting that transformation may emerge through cycles of action, experimentation and real time learning.

Rather than offering a unified answer, these perspectives illuminate core tensions that coaching must navigate rather than resolve:

● (SP) explicitly engages unconscious emotional and relational dynamics influencing leadership behaviour but places less direct emphasis on how new behaviours become consistently reinforced in daily practice.

● (NS) clarifies how habits are biologically reinforced through neural pathways but gives less attention to deeper emotional and systemic complexities shaping those habits.

● (AM) advocate for structured action and behavioural experimentation yet risks underestimating the unconscious anxieties and emotional attachments that influence behavioural change.

These contradictions are not flaws to be resolved. Rather, they are structural tensions that exist in the coaching process. Attempting to collapse them into a single prescriptive model would risk oversimplifying the complexity of leadership transformation.

Instead, my research proposes the possibility of a more adaptive and iterative coaching approach, one that draws strategically from each of the three frameworks depending on the specific challenges the leader is facing. Some moments may call for deep psychodynamic exploration, others for stress regulation or behavioural reinforcement and still others for experimentation in real world systems. The key is not choosing one approach over another but developing the capacity to move fluidly across them and holding the tensions rather than prematurely resolving them.

While limited empirical work exists that explicitly combines (SP), (NS) and (AM) any meaningful synthesis must grapple with the potential frictions outlined above. For example, (SP) urges caution around unconscious resistance while (AM) encourage immediate experimentation. The question becomes how, in practice, these tensions might be held and reconciled. For now, it suffices to emphasise that in my view no single lens can fully address the insight-to-action gap in isolation. Each contributes to a broader understanding of the same complex phenomenon.

The challenge is to create a space where psychodynamic depth is not isolated from action and where behavioural experimentation is not divorced from emotional or relational complexity. This also requires recognising that the leader plays a critical role in shaping the developmental arc. The leaders capacity to reflect, disrupt and re-author their behaviours is central to whether insight becomes embedded practice.

This sets the stage for the next chapter, where I transition from theory to methodology and method, asking how a coaching research design might be constructed that tests these ideas in practice. I also begin to examine how such a design can support both coaches and leaders in engaging with, rather than avoiding, the real-world frictions of transformation.

2.6.1 Revisiting the insight-to-action gap

This research addresses a persistent challenge to coaching’s core assumption that insight naturally leads to change. Many coaching models rest on the premise that once leaders become more self- aware of their patterns, beliefs and relational dynamics they will be equipped to shift their behaviours. The continued presence of the insight-to-action gap suggests that this assumption is incomplete. Considered collectively, the perspectives reviewed in this chapter indicate that the gap reflects the interaction of unconscious dynamics in the coaching relationship with broader relational and systemic conditions that sustain existing behaviours.

Each of the theoretical frameworks examined in this chapter offers a distinct explanation for why insight so often fails to translate into sustained behavioural change:

● System psychodynamics (SP) shows how unconscious resistance, defensive structures and relational anxieties can stall even genuine commitments to change.

● Neuroscience (NS) highlights how behaviours are reinforced through habit loops and stress responses, making it difficult to override old patterns without consistent practice and emotional salience.

● Action Methodologies (AM) challenge the assumption that awareness must precede change, demonstrating how cycles of action, experimentation and feedback can themselves generate insight.

Together, these perspectives offer a shared critique of coaching’s reliance on self-awareness alone is no longer sufficient. Unless insight is reinforced through behavioural practice (NS), accompanied by work with unconscious resistance (SP), and embedded in structured experimentation (AM), leaders risk remaining in thoughtful inertia, aware but unchanged.

This synthesis raises further questions for the design of coaching interventions:

● Does coaching place too much faith in rational agency?

● Are we overestimating the power of reflection while underestimating the pull of ingrained patterns?

● Are coaching engagements structured to support repeated real-world testing, or do they remain confined to insight generation?

These tensions suggest that coaching stands at a methodological crossroads. The way forward is not to resolve the contradictions between (SP), (NS) and (AM), but to work within them. This research therefore explores the potential of an adaptive and iterative coaching approach that draws flexibly from each framework, positioning the researcher-coach reflexively in relation to these dynamics. In doing so, it sets the foundation for the methodological design outlined in Chapter 3.

2.6.2 Beyond tensions

This research does not propose a rigid or prescriptive coaching model. Instead, it asks whether coaching can engage (SP), (NS) and (AM) in a more fluid, iterative fashion responding to the evolving challenges and contexts leaders face. Leadership transformation is rarely linear. It unfolds within psychodynamic defence structures (SP), neural habit loops (NS) and dynamic cycles of action-based learning (AM). If each framework addresses a different dimension of why leaders know but do not do, can coaching integrate them in a way that deepens rather than dilutes their insights and increases the embedding of active change?

By adaptive, I mean a coaching process that responds to emergent patterns in a leaders behaviour, emotional state and systemic context rather than following a fixed method. By iterative, I refer to structured cycles of experiment, reflection and recalibration that draw on the logic of (AM) while incorporating (SP) and (NS) awareness.

In Chapter 3, I will detail how this adaptive and iterative research design is operationalised. I will describe how I flex between (SP), (NS) and (AM) interventions in real time coaching situations, depending on what the moment demands, psychodynamic research, behavioural scaffolding or somatic regulation.

As the discussion in this chapter has shown, each framework contributes something essential and partial to understanding the insight-to-action gap. These differences highlight the tensions that shape real coaching practice. In line with the refined research aims and questions set out in section 2.6.3, Table 2.1 summarises the potential synergies and tensions among (SP), (NS) and (AM), showing how each framework illuminates different aspects of the conditions that enable or obstruct the movement from insight-to-action.

Table 2.1 Potential synergies and tensions among systems psychodynamics, neuroscience and action methodologies.

3. To critically analyse the coaching alliance and its role in shaping whether leaders sustain behavioural change beyond the coaching engagement.

4. To assess how the researcher-coach’s positionality and theoretical orientation influence the design, delivery and interpretation of coaching interventions, particularly in relation to resistance and behavioural transfer.

My research questions, that have been informed by this literature review, are now explicitly restated as follows (RQ1-RQ5):

RQ1. How does the coaching alliance shape whether leaders translate insight into action, and what specific coaching interventions enhance behavioural transferability?

RQ2. What unconscious defence mechanisms sustain habitual leadership behaviours, and how can coaching interventions surface and disrupt these patterns?

RQ3. How do neural habit formation, stress responses and cognitive constraints affect leadership transformation, and how can coaching engage with these forces to foster sustainable change?

RQ4. What are the comparative benefits and limitations of integrating (SP), (NS) and (AM) in coaching practice?

RQ5. How does the researcher-coach’s positioning, both personal and theoretical, influence the effectiveness of interventions aimed at bridging the insight-to-action gap?

These refined aims and questions provide a coherent and aligned foundation for the methodological design outlined in Chapter 3. I am not assuming that any single approach holds the answer, I am interested to discover whether an adaptive and iterative coaching process, grounded in (SP), (NS) and (AM), can offer a more effective pathway to sustained leadership transformation. It will also begin to explore how transformation is not delivered to the leader but shaped with them, through the evolving relational field between coach and leader.

2.7 Reflexivity and researcher positionality

It is important for me to pause and reflect on the way the literature has unfolded on me and how that will influence what happens next. My engagement with (SP), (NS) and (AM) has always been more than reviewing theories. In working with these traditions, they have been filtered through who I am, what I notice, and how I carry my practice. My interpretation has been shaped by lived experience as a coach and as a person who has worked with these questions in real time.

As I worked through the explorations in this chapter, I found myself, again and again, recognising that leadership coaching is never neutral. The frameworks matter and so do the values, assumptions and histories that I bring into the coaching space. These influences shape how I interpret processes, how I make sense of progress and hesitation and how I begin to recognise what transformation might mean.

My engagement with (SP), (NS), and (AM) generated both recognition and unease. Some ideas aligned with my frames of reference, while others disrupted my assumptions and raised continuing questions. These moments of discomfort were as valuable as the points of clarity, revealing predispositions I carry, often tacitly, and inviting reflection on how such orientations may shape the contours of my attention within my research.

2.7.1 How the literature shaped my awareness and design

Reviewing the literature surfaced my own biases and ways of working. It allowed me to reflect more deeply on what I thought I understood, to question assumptions that had implicitly guided me, and to recognise how different traditions were shaping my practice. Rather than introducing entirely new ideas, the literature often reconnected me with experiences I had already lived. It gave me the space to critique what I had taken for granted and to refine how I applied these insights in coaching.

(AM) reminded me of the energy of practice itself and of how easily moments of clarity could fade without cycles of trying, noticing and trying again. (SP) reconnected me with what I had sensed in the relational field, giving me language to reflect more carefully on resistance, identity and the dynamics that hold patterns in place. (NS) deepened my awareness of how stress and repetition shape the sustainability of change, providing sharper ways to think about habit and embodiment in the coaching space.

These perspectives gave me more than theoretical tools. They created a space where I could reflect, critique and deepen what I thought I knew. This process of critiquing, questioning and reviewing has deepened both my experience and my knowing of why reflexivity is so important to my research.

It was also important to notice where I did not align. Models such as GROW, with their linear and performance focused logic, left me uneasy and reminded me that coaching can too easily reduce change to goals and checklists. The literature challenged me to keep my mind open, to see where my assumptions needed questioning, and to resist the comfort of settling into one preferred frame. I am still not convinced that (SP), (NS) or (AM) can stand alone, but I understand more deeply why they need each other, each bringing insight, each carrying limits, each sharpening the others.

These realisations now shape how I move into the methodology. I sensed that an inquiry drawing on (SP), (NS) and (AM) would need to move between them rather than adopt a single formula. I pictured cycles of reflection and experimentation where unconscious patterns could surface and be tested in practice. At this stage these were impressions rather than decisions. I had a sense that both identity and behaviour would need attention, and that disruption and containment might each have a place. I also became more aware of my own habits in judging progress. I often looked for visible behavioural shifts, and while those mattered, I could also see that changes in meaning making or in loosening of defensive routines might be equally significant.

Reflexivity is inseparable from this process; it is part of my research itself. My role as coach and researcher means I am always inside my inquiry, shaped by it and shaping it. I know there will be moments when interventions unfold differently than anticipated, when insights shift, or when my own preferences and hesitations become visible. Rather than treating these as distractions, I hold them as data, part of the experience of what unfolds. I carry questions with me: When am I leaning strongly on my own preferences? When am I moving away from discomfort, my own or the leaders’? And how can I stay open enough to hold the tensions of (SP), (NS) and (AM) without collapsing them into one another?

Holding these questions now is important because they will continue to guide me as I transition towards methodology. They remind me that the way I design and interpret my research is already shaped by the leanings, critiques and uncertainties I carry forward from this literature review. In Chapter 3 I design the methodology, setting out how my research was structured to work with these influences and to test how (SP), (NS) and (AM) might be integrated in practice.

Chapter 3 Experimenting to learn

3.0 Asking “What might we try?”

At the point of “what now?” a coach and leader turn to experimentation rather than searching for the single right answer. A small step, a low-risk experiment, allows learning to continue not only through thinking but also through doing. This chapter sets out the approach I constructed at this stage and how I operationalised it in the baseline that followed. With the insight-to-action gap more clearly framed and explored, I designed a way to research it not from the outside but from within my own coaching practice.

I aimed to develop a process that helped me notice more. I asked how I could learn by paying closer attention to what I already do and to the results that follow. Just as a coach and leader might shape an experiment together, clarifying the conditions, setting boundaries, and staying open to what emerges, I offer a methodology that is both structured and responsive.

Anchored in a constructivist-interpretivist, practice-led paradigm and drawing from systems psychodynamics (SP), neuroscience (NS), and action methodologies (AM), this design creates a container to observe, reflect, and remain present to the subtle dynamics of coaching in real time. What follows is the set-up for the first stage of my research, inviting the coaching space itself to become a site of inquiry and of learning from what unfolds.

In what follows, I describe how my research was designed and carried through. I outline the phased research structure, participant recruitment, data-collection methods, and analysis procedures, linking them back to the methodological approach described above.

3.1 From coaching dilemmas to research design

My encounters with the insight-to-action gap that came through my coaching work were often layered and disorienting experiences that defied rational explanation. Like the experiences I have described earlier, I remember working with a highly accomplished executive who had risen quickly through the ranks on the strength of her strategic thinking and individual performance. Yet, once promoted to a senior role, she struggled to move from expert to leader of people. Despite valuing empowerment, she consistently defaulted to stepping in rather than stepping back. Together we explored her identity as “the one who delivers” how it kept her valuable but also trapped. She recognised this narrative and reflected deeply. For a time, it felt like a breakthrough. Yet under pressure she fell back into proving her worth by taking over. This left me asking if her underlying fears had surfaced, why did meaningful change still not take hold?

Reflecting on such experiences I realised that curiosity often propelled me forward. Bateson (2000) suggests that we deepen our understanding by staying with complexity rather than rushing to resolve it. Alexandrov (2009 p.32) similarly notes an “anxious awareness of the fallibility of our knowledge” which highlights how each new insight exposes further unknowns. Cunliffe (2003) adds that the quality of our questions influences our ability to navigate uncertainty by inviting inquiry that opens possibilities rather than closing them prematurely. This mindset of open and reflective research became pivotal as I connected the strands of (SP) which highlights hidden relational dynamics and defences, (NS) which attends to stress responses that override intention and (AM) which creates small real-world experiments that can embed new habits. Each offered partial insight into why so many leaders revert to old behaviours under stress (French & Vince 1999; Gould et al. 2001).

Having refined my research aims and questions in Chapter 2, this chapter explores the methodology I have developed to investigate whether an adaptive coaching approach can help leaders translate insight into action. Guided by reflection, I set out to examine how my observations, decisions and emotional reactions will influence the data and add depth to how we interpret whether insights become or fail to become sustained actions.

Section 1.6 outlined the theoretical and practical tensions that first sparked these questions. Section 2.6.3 mapped the core ideas from (SP), (NS) and (AM). Chapter 3 now turns to why I have chosen a constructivist and interpretivist lens how practice-led research in coaching draws from creative arts traditions and which methods I intend to use for recruitment, data collection, analysis and ethical considerations. Throughout, I maintain a first-person reflexive tone, consistent with my belief that knowledge in coaching arises through shared experiences, interactions and the contexts we inhabit. By the end of the chapter the methodology is presented as a flexible design tailored to the complex realities of leadership development, illustrating my evolving understanding of what bridging the gap may require.

3.2 Philosophical stance and researcher positionality

This section reflects on the stance I bring into my research and how it influenced what unfolded. My way of knowing has grown through practice, noticing what happens in the room, questioning my assumptions, and treating those moments as data. I hold philosophy and practice as deeply connected. In this section I outline two strands that guided me. The first is the paradigm that frames how I understand knowledge and change (3.2.1). The second is my reflexive positioning as a practitioner close to, yet outside, participants’ worlds (3.2.2). These perspectives anchor my research and keep it responsive to what emerges in practice.

3.2.1 Research paradigm

Central to my research is a particular view about how knowledge is formed, and this view has influenced my approach to researching leadership coaching from the start. I work from the belief that knowledge is not something we simply discover out there waiting to be uncovered. Instead, it is co-constructed through experience, interaction, and the context we inhabit. This idea links closely to my role as a reflexive practitioner, someone who draws on personal experience in my research while also stepping back and examining it with a critical lens.

My understanding of coaching is closely tied to my active engagement in it. Taking on the roles of both coach and researcher has prompted ongoing reflection on how this intersection influences my perspective of what I notice, how I make sense of it, and how I have constructed my research. From the outset, I grappled with questions such as what counts as truth in coaching and how my coaching lens influences what stands out in the data. These questions played a pivotal role in shaping both my research design and methodological choices.

Early in my career, I was trained to assume that if a leader gained insight, then their behaviour would surely change. That made sense within a linear and rational model. However, over time the positivist approach no longer aligned with what I was observing in practice or with the kinds of questions I began to ask. Positivism assumes there is an objective reality that can be measured and that outcomes are predictable if the right variables are controlled (Guba & Lincoln 1994; Crotty 1998). Yet the recurring gap between insight and action prompted me to question that assumption. Even when coach and leader shared clarity around an insight, behavioural change did not always follow. It became evident that coaching does not function like a formula. As I have been framing throughout my thesis, it appears to be influenced by emotion, relationships, habits, and meaning-making factors. These are dimensions that positivism struggles to capture (Vince & Broussine 1996; Gould et al. 2001). My early training had provided structure; however, it lacked language for the ambiguity and unpredictability I encountered.

Engaging critically with the assumptions behind my practice prompted me to move toward a paradigm that could account for complexity, context, and subjectivity. A constructivist-interpretivist approach gradually emerged as a more suitable lens, one that mirrored the nuance of the real-world coaching dynamics I witnessed and engaged in (Cunliffe 2003; Alvesson & Sköldberg 2018). By constructivist, I mean that knowledge in my research is co-constructed between coach, leader, and researcher in context. By interpretivist, I mean that understanding develops through the exploration and interpretation of meanings, narratives, and relational dynamics in lived practice.

Interpretivism assumes that social reality is co-constructed through interaction, experience, and shared meaning-making (Schwandt 1994). Instead of seeking a single objective explanation for why leaders act on their insights, this paradigm holds space for multiple context-specific descriptions. How leaders make sense of stress, identity, or organisational norms often influences whether action follows. This resonates with my coaching experience where unconscious defences (RQ2) and stress- driven habit loops (RQ3) varied between individuals and across time and context (French & Vince 1999; Armstrong 2005). In my research I approached knowledge as something co-constructed within and of the interviews and coaching, alongside reflexive practice and engagement with literature. Lincoln and Guba (1985) argue that constructivist research demands different standards of rigour compared with positivist traditions, and they suggest that reality is multiple, relational, and influenced by both the researcher and the researched (Guba & Lincoln 1994). These ideas informed a methodological stance that prioritised flexibility, reflexivity, and responsiveness to context.

Adopting interpretivism means focusing on context, meaning and subjective experience. My interest was in the shared process, exploring how participants understood and enacted their insights, how those understandings and sense-making processes influenced outcomes, and how I, in turn, came to better understand my own coaching practice in relation to them. My readings of the data formed one layer of meaning among many, with reflexivity considered part of the data itself. This aligns with Alvesson and Sköldberg’s (2018) emphasis on critically examining the researcher’s role, assumptions and influence. How this paradigm was operationalised through practice-led inquiry, experimentation, and data generation is detailed in sections 3.3 and 3.4.

3.2.2 A reflexive practitioner with professional proximity

I position myself as a reflexive practitioner with professional proximity to leadership coaching rather than claiming an insider role within each participant’s organisation. In essence, I am close enough to the coaching world to discern subtle emotional cues and systemic tensions yet not embedded in participants’ daily workplace structures. This stance has allowed me to observe patterns more critically (Gould et al. 2001; Armstrong 2005). This positioning also frames my role as researcher, shaping what I am able to notice, how I interpret participants’ accounts, and how knowledge is co- constructed through the research encounter. The practical implications of this positioning for recruitment, phase design, and boundary management are set out in sections 3.4 and 3.7.

From a (SP) perspective reflexivity is critical for noticing when I might collude with participants’ unconscious defences or project my own anxieties into the coaching field (Armstrong 2005; Hinshelwood & Skogstad 2000). After each session I maintained reflective journal notes on transference and countertransference moments, such as feeling overly aligned or emotionally distant, to remain aware of how these dynamics might influence the co-constructed data (Cunliffe 2003). Being an experienced coach but not an organisational insider gave me a useful perspective. I understood leadership language and cultural norms which helped surface tacit concerns such as unspoken resistance to delegation or latent impostor feelings. At the same time my external position enabled participants to disclose vulnerabilities more freely, unburdened by fear of reputational risk or internal politics (Fletcher 1999; Coghlan 2007). I stayed alert to my own coaching habits so that they did not bias my research. If I noticed a tendency to guide participants toward my preferred solutions I recorded this reflexively and later checked whether it aligned with the participant’s developmental trajectory or my own theoretical bias.

At times professional proximity risked over identification especially if a participant’s narrative aligned closely with those of former leaders. I managed this by maintaining distinct documentation and regularly checking in with participants about their comfort with the dual purpose of our sessions. In

3.3 A Practice-led integrative approach

This section introduces the practice-led methodology that anchors my research. My understanding of coaching has always been influenced through doing and reflecting in real time, and I wanted a research approach that could be responsive to my work. Practice-led inquiry offers a way of treating the coaching process itself as a site of knowledge creation, where insight and action evolve together. The subsections that follow trace its origins in the creative arts (3.3.1), its application to leadership coaching (3.3.2), and the role of creative artefacts and reflexive experimentation in deepening my inquiry (3.3.3). In this thesis I use the term experiment to describe the iterative cycles of coaching as they unfolded in evolving conditions. Each engagement became a mutual exploration of how (SP), (NS) and (AM) might interact to support or hinder behavioural shifts. This adaptive approach created opportunities to observe, reflect and refine the process in relationship, with the design evolving responsively to what emerged.

3.3.1 Origins of practice-led methodology in the creative arts

Practice-led research, sometimes called practice-based or practice as research, is widely used in creative disciplines such as visual art, design, music and performance (Candy 2006; Smith & Dean 2009; Candy & Edmonds 2018). In these fields knowledge is not solely discovered by examining final products such as a completed painting, a design prototype or a performance. It is actively generated during the creative process. Artists revise their work through iterative cycles of action and reflection, gleaning new insights as they modify brushstrokes, recalibrate choreography or shift musical phrasing in real time. Traditional research approaches that emphasise fixed outcomes often overlook the rich tacit knowledge embedded in these evolving processes.

Candy and Edmonds (2018) note that practice-led research typically unfolds in iterative cycles. The practitioner acts for example paints or performs then reflects on the outcome and refines the next iteration considering new insights. Over time these repetitions deepen understanding and sometimes lead to theoretical contributions that resonate beyond the individual artwork. Barrett and Bolt (2010) argue that in such models practice and reflection are inseparable, forming a kind of two- way mirror through which theory and applied knowledge continuously interact. This aligns with Kolb’s (1984) concept of reflection in action in which practitioners think and learn while doing and not solely in retrospect.

While the world of painting, performance and design may seem distant from leadership coaching, the parallel is compelling. In a coaching session I engage in a real time process of listening, experimenting and adjusting interventions. Like an artist refining a composition, I adapt my approach based on immediate feedback and the evolving context of the conversation. This synergy drew me to practice-led research as a methodological anchor for exploring the insight-to-action gap.

Practice-led research also reframes how we think about experiments. In creative fields an experiment is not a sterile laboratory test with tightly controlled variables. Instead, it is a living and evolving probe of possibilities within a particular context. Similarly, in my coaching engagements I co- design interventions. For example, I might explore a leaders unconscious leadership narrative or introduce a stress regulation technique and then observe how the leader responds. The next coaching move emerges naturally from that response, mirroring how a creative practitioner might incorporate an unexpected colour or gesture into the next phase of their work.

Importantly, the emphasis on the practitioner’s lived experience is a defining feature of practice-led research. In the creative arts the artist’s perspective is not an optional add on, it is central to how knowledge is generated. In the same way my subjective experiences, emotional reactions, interpretations of a leaders stress cues and my sense of when to push or hold back all constitute core data in my research. This challenges traditional approaches that attempt to remove the researcher’s influence in pursuit of objectivity. It is precisely my reflexive engagement as both coach and researcher that illuminates the nuanced interplay of (SP), (NS) and (AM) in helping leaders transform insights into action.

3.3.2 Applying practice-led methodology to leadership coaching

Bringing a practice-led approach into leadership coaching meant structuring a continuous cycle of plan, act, observe, reflect, adjust and plan again. This mirrors the logic of action research (Lewin 1946; Kolb 1984). However, in my research I layered in theoretical lenses from (SP) and (NS) to guide what I noticed, how I interpreted it and how interventions were adapted in real time. Rather than treating each coaching conversation as a one-off event I approached coaching as an unfolding process through which patterns could emerge and be tested as insights deepened.

Each coaching engagement functioned as a mini experiment, understood through an interpretivist lens of inquiry, distinct from positivist notions of hypothesis testing. For example, if early reflections suggested that a leaders procrastination stemmed from an unconscious fear, I might integrate a stress regulation technique drawing on (NS) or introduce a small task from action learning drawing on (AM) to explore how that fear surfaced in practice. When an intervention failed to resonate, we adapted and tried a different approach. This fluidity aligns with Pedler and Abbott’s (2013) emphasis on flexibility and emergence in complex human development contexts.

I documented these shifts through a reflexive journal and session notes, which formed part of the dataset and created a transparent record of how my understanding and practice evolved over time (see section 3.4.4.5). Each leaders journey contributed to a broader action research spiral in which insights from one engagement informed approaches in subsequent ones. Throughout the process these cycles generated a rich dataset capturing both the content of behavioural change and the process of methodological refinement.

Containment, introduced earlier as a core principle of both (SP) and ethical coaching practice, played a central role in this methodology. In coaching sessions containment refers to a relational space where participants can explore difficult emotions, unconscious patterns and unresolved tensions without pressure to resolve them immediately (Bion 1962; Winnicott 1971). Methodologically, the same principle informed my reflexive stance, supporting careful attention to my responses and to the emotional field of the coaching relationship, while remaining ethically attuned to participant wellbeing (Hinshelwood & Skogstad 2000; Armstrong 2005). By working with rather than against my emotional responses I could recognise when internal dynamics were amplifying, distorting or obscuring what was happening in the coaching relationship. Over time this supported a more integrated practice in which reflexivity, learning and methodological adaptation co-evolved.

To systematically guard against over identification or bias I built in several safeguards. I engaged in scheduled peer debriefing with two professional colleagues outside my research context where I discussed cases in which my emotional alignment with a participant felt particularly strong. I also invited member-checking reflections (Tracy 2010) from participants, encouraging them to contest or nuance my interpretations so that their voice remained primary in the meaning making. Additionally, I made use of regular supervision to surface and work through any emotional residue from coaching that might seep into my analytic writing. These safeguards created a structured process for stepping back and testing my interpretations. They allowed close practitioner and participant intimacy and more distant theoretical analysis to co-exist, which supports the methodological integrity of my research.

3.3.3 Integrating creative artefacts and reflexive experimentation

Experimentation became the key mechanism through which emerging hypotheses were tested in my research. Instead of remaining at the level of abstract discussion I co-designed targeted actions or interventions with participants and then together we evaluated their impact. Two creative artefacts supported this ‘Iterative Experimentation’. The first was PRISM Brain Mapping and the second was projective drawings and poems. These were not formal diagnostic instruments but reflective aids that visualised emotional content, supported containment and helped ground the experimentation in a tangible form. This is consistent with qualitative practices that use drawing or metaphor to access tacit knowledge. Below I describe how each was used and the steps I took to ensure this creative approach remained rigorous and ethical.

1. PRISM Brain Mapping (PRISM Brain Mapping Ltd 2014): Given my longstanding involvement with PRISM Brain Mapping, as I have been a certified practitioner since 2012 and a Master Trainer since 2014, I deliberately incorporated this tool into my research design (see Appendix D for a summary of PRISM Brain Mapping). This reflected the fact that PRISM is an integral part of my normal coaching practice. I approached PRISM much as one might use a projective drawing in a (SP) coaching context, as a catalyst for insight and reflection and not as a definitive diagnostic assessment. PRISM provides visual maps of a person’s preferred behavioural style and their adapted style when under stress. I used these maps to help participants make sense of how they perceived themselves and to explore what associations they made in relation to their current work experience and future aspirations. As PRISM is a proprietary practitioner developed tool, I employed it as I do in regular practice, cautiously and reflexively. I emphasised that it offered a shared language for discussing stress responses and habits rather than any kind of ultimate measurement. Practically, participants completed their PRISM profile at the start of our engagement, and we revisited it at points throughout. The purpose was not to track measurable change but to explore how their self-perceptions evolved in relation to our coaching dialogues. The PRISM profiles provided a common reference point through which participants could interpret their stress patterns, behavioural triggers and shifts in meaning making over time.

2. Projective drawings and poems: At selected points in the coaching process, I invited participants to draw themselves in their leadership role or to sketch an image representing how they were feeling about a particular dynamic (Nossal 2010). On a few occasions I also encouraged them to express themselves through short poems or metaphors. The use of creative artefacts such as drawings and poetry is well established in organisational, practice- based and arts-based research on leadership development (Nossal 2010; Vince & Warren 2012; Gergen & Gergen 2017). These approaches are valued for their capacity to surface tacit or unconscious material that might remain inaccessible through words alone. Such artefacts act as third objects in the coaching conversation (Winnicott 1971). They serve as shared focal points for joint meaning making which expand the interpretive space between coach and participant. They invite more embodied, emotional and symbolic forms of reflection and offer insight into patterns that standard verbal dialogue may bypass.

To ensure methodological rigour and guard against subjective bias or over interpretation in using these creative techniques I employed a systematic co-constructive approach.

• Participant led interpretation: participants always led the initial interpretation of their own drawing or poem. They first described what the image or words meant to them and what emotions or associations emerged.
• Coach as curious enquirer: I offered my interpretations only in the form of sharing my associations, advocating my thinking, using inquiry or offering a hypothesis to be explored. I continually checked with the participant whether my impressions resonated or whether they saw things differently.
• Triangulation with other data: insights generated from creative artefacts were explicitly triangulated with other data including session transcripts, interview descriptions and my reflexive journal. I only attributed significance to a theme from an artefact, for example a suggested unconscious fear or systemic pressure, if it was supported by multiple forms of data in my research.
• Audit trail: the analytic process for each artefact, including my reasoning and the participant’s responses, was documented as part of my broader audit trail and reflexivity protocol (see section 3.6). I kept detailed notes on how each drawing or poem was discussed and interpreted and why certain conclusions were or were not drawn from it.

This layered and participatory approach ensured that the creative artefact analysis enhanced rather than distorted the trustworthiness and depth of my research’s findings.

This practice-led methodology positioned coaching not simply as the subject of research but as the method of research. Each engagement became in effect a dynamic site of co-created inquiry for participant and researcher alike. By integrating reflexive writing, creative tools and the multi lens (SP), (NS) and (AM) framework, I was able to observe both the rational and relational dimensions of the insight-to-action journey as they unfolded in real time. The reflexive journal and session notes supported methodological transparency by documenting how interventions unfolded, how participants responded and how meaning was generated in context (see section 3.4.4.5). This methodology allowed me to remain responsive to each leaders psychodynamic, emotional and systemic cues while staying anchored to the central research aim, which was to explore whether a multi lens and integrative approach can support sustainable leadership behaviour change. The following section (3.4) details how this methodological approach was operationalised in my research design and methods.

3.4 Research design and methods

The aim is not only to document what happened but also to make transparent the reasoning behind my choices. My research was structured in iterative phases, each offering a different perspective on the insight-to-action gap (Neale 2016; Srivastava & Hopwood 2009). In designing these phases, I developed participant recruitment, data collection, and analysis strategies that aligned with my constructivist-interpretivist, practice-led paradigm. This approach balanced methodological rigour with flexibility and created a process that mirrored the iterative, adaptive spirit of coaching (Robertson et al. 2020; Srivastava & Hopwood 2009).

Table 3.1 summarises this study’s timeline and four-phase structure. Exact dates are omitted for confidentiality and approximate durations are shown instead. Each phase engaged a different participant group and focus, enabling the insight-to-action journey to be examined from multiple perspectives.

Table 3.1 Research design timeline and phase overview

3.4.3 Demographic and contextual data

Table 3.2 summarises key demographic and contextual characteristics of the participant sample. Pseudonyms are used to protect anonymity, and certain details have been generalised where needed. Gender distribution reflects self-identified gender. The variety of industries and organisational contexts highlights the breadth of perspectives represented across the four phases (exact job titles and organisation names are not disclosed).

Table 3.2 Participant demographics

Table 3.3 Phase 1 and Phase 4 leaders as leader participants

Table 3.4 Phase 2 coach participants (experienced leadership coaches)

Table 3.5 Phase 3 leader participants (leaders who had previously undertaken coaching)

3.4.4 Data collection

Data collection across the four phases was intentionally varied to capture a nuanced, multi- perspective view of the insight-to-action gap. It included reflective journaling, recorded coaching sessions, semi-structured interviews, a behavioural diagnostic (PRISM Brain Mapping) and creative projective exercises. This multi-method approach provided both first-person (coach and leader reflective data) and third person (interview) insights. Tables 3.6 through 3.9 detail the structured data collection instruments and activities for each phase, including the coaching session frameworks (Phases 1 and 4) and the semi-structured interview guides (Phases 2 and 3).

3.4.4.1 Phase 1: baseline coaching practice sessions

In Phase 1, I conducted six one-hour coaching sessions with each of three senior leader participants, using a consistent session structure to ensure comparability. The sessions incorporated goal setting, iterative ‘live’ coaching work and integration of a PRISM brain profile debrief in Session 2. This provided a baseline coaching experience for each leader while gathering data on their emerging insights and actions. Table 3.6 outlines the Phase 1 coaching session sequence and key activities for all six sessions (each 50 minutes plus 10-minute debrief).

Table 3.6 Phase 1 (baseline) coaching session structure (6 × 60-minute sessions)

Table 3.7 Phase 2 semi-structured interview guide (experienced coaches)

Table 3.8 Phase 3 semi-structured interview guide (previously coached leaders)

Table 3.9 Phase 4 iterated coaching session structure (integrated ‘Other’ stance, 6 × 60-minute sessions)

Note. The Phase 4 session outline was used as a flexible compass rather than a rigid script. The coach adjusted in real time to the leader’s needs, for example, if a strong transference dynamic spiked, a planned activity was paused to ensure containment or if arousal was very high, the session might start with a paced breathing exercise. In this way, the structured outline provided direction without becoming prescriptive, allowing the coach to maintain an integrative, responsive stance.

I kept my reflective journals in a secure digital notebook application (Apple Notes), which allowed me to record reflections and analytic memos during analysis. Using these basic, accessible tools was a deliberate choice, it aligned with the ethos of reflexive thematic analysis, which prioritises deep researcher immersion and intimate familiarity with the data over mechanical coding processes (Braun & Clarke 2006).

3.5 Data analysis

Analysis in my research was less a separate stage and more a thread woven through the whole journey. Each time I returned to transcripts, journals, drawings, or conversations, I found myself noticing something new, reshaping what I thought I understood. The process was cyclical through reading, coding, reflecting, writing, then circling back again. Reflexive thematic analysis (Braun & Clarke 2006; 2021) offered a guide, and I allowed the path to unfold in conversation with the material. My notes, peer discussions and supervision helped me stay open, test my interpretations, and see the data from different angles. Working with the lenses of (SP), (NS) and (AM), I developed an analytic process for constructing themes that remained grounded in participants’ accounts and my reflexive engagement with the material.

3.5.1 Iterative coding

Consistent with my practice-led approach, the data analysis unfolded through collecting data. After each engagement I transcribed or wrote up detailed notes and added them to my Excel matrix. I repeatedly reviewed the transcripts, audio and video recordings, drawings, PRISM profiles and supervision notes, while also consulting my reflective journal entries. This created an ongoing cycle of analysis and sense-making that developed throughout my research.

I drew on Braun and Clarke’s (2006; 2021) reflexive thematic analysis (RTA) as a guide, with the process evolving in a fluid and recursive way. I began by immersing myself in the data, reading and re-reading transcripts and notes to stay close to the voices and experiences captured there. As I did this, I noted significant features and patterns that stood out and I attached labels that helped me track the recurring insights. These codes were then gathered into broader clusters and potential themes that connected different participants or moments in a session. At times these themes blended into one another or divided into more precise threads, and I refined them until they felt coherent and distinct. Gradually I named and defined these themes more clearly and aimed to capture their essence in plain and meaningful language.

My writing became an essential part of the analytic process. As I drafted passages, tested descriptions against the data and integrated extracts into the emerging narrative, the themes were refined further. I often moved back and forth across these stages, returning to the raw data to check whether early codes still resonated or whether themes required reshaping. This process of circling between immersion, coding, theme building and writing embodied the reflexive spirit of RTA and aligned with the iterative approach to my research.

This method approached themes as actively constructed through my researcher’s interpretations. I undertook regular peer debriefs, where I shared excerpts and thematic ideas to help support and achieve credibility. These conversations opened space for my assumptions to be challenged and for alternative perspectives to be explored. Engaging in this process with peers I felt reinforced my reflexivity, extended ideas and insights beyond my own reflections, and ensured that the themes I developed remained contextually grounded and interpretively rich.

3.5.1.1 Worked analytic example

To illustrate how inductive and deductive coding worked together, and how reflexivity informed my analysis, Table 3.10 presents an example from my dataset. In this case, two raw fragments from a leader are shown alongside the open codes I first noted, the theory-informed codes I later added (drawing on (SP) and (NS)), the broader theme each fragment contributed to, and a short extract from my reflexive notes where I documented my responses and analytic decisions. As labelled in Table 3.10, this worked example also illustrates analytic triangulation across lenses.

Table 3.10 Worked analytic example (inductive-deductive integration and analytic triangulation)

DATA INDUCTIVE THEORY-INFORMED THEME REFLEXIVE NOTE FRAGMENT CODE CODE (SP/NS/AM) (FROM TRANSCRIPT)

“I knew I Freezing (NS): Stress Habitual Noted my impulse to needed to feeling response responses intervene directly; step back, but unable to act (fight/flight/freeze) under stress instead, I explored the in the (SP): Defence leaders physiological meeting, I just against perceived signs of stress and froze.” threat challenged the avoidance. After the session, I checked with the participant whether my “push” was DATA INDUCTIVE THEORY-INFORMED THEME REFLEXIVE NOTE FRAGMENT CODE CODE (SP/NS/AM) (FROM TRANSCRIPT) experienced as helpful or overwhelming.

“It felt safer to Withdrawing (SP): Defensive Avoidant Confronted this not speak up.” avoidance avoidance communication avoidance pattern patterns during the session. (NS): Fear/anxiety Immediately reflected on whether my challenge matched the leaders readiness or if I risked moving too fast. Brought this dilemma to peer supervision, where I examined if my own bias for action was influencing the intervention.

In practice I began by applying open inductive codes that reflected the participant’s language, such as freezing or withdrawing. In a later review I layered on theory informed codes, for example noting a possible stress response from a (NS) perspective or defensive avoidance through a (SP) lens, when these helped explain the material or linked to my research questions. Related codes were then gathered into themes, such as habitual responses under stress or avoidant communication.

Alongside this coding I recorded reflexive notes in my journal (introduced earlier in section 3.3.2 and described in more detail in section 3.4.4.5), capturing my impulses, hesitations and questions. At times I asked whether my own preference for action was shaping how I named avoidance, and I tested these reflections in supervision or in dialogue with participants. In this way, the process did not treat inductive and deductive coding as separate tracks but as strands that informed one another, always filtered through my reflexive awareness.

3.5.2 Integration of (SP), (NS) and (AM)

Table 3.10 provides a worked example of analytic triangulation, showing how a single data fragment was interpreted through more than one theoretical lens. Building on that example, this section explains how I applied triangulation across the wider dataset by considering (SP), (NS) and (AM) in parallel, and by making a documented interpretive judgement about which lens (or combination) most usefully illuminated what was occurring in context.

When one perspective proved most useful for understanding a segment, I let it guide the interpretation while allowing the other lenses to remain present as contextual frames. Over time, this shifting balance across lenses created a richer picture than any single framework could have offered. I came to view (SP), (NS) and (AM) not as competing explanations but as complementary angles, each contributing to a more nuanced understanding of what was unfolding in the coaching space.

3.5.2.1 Limitations of neuroscience-based interpretation

All interpretations in my research that drew on (NS), were conceptual and context specific. No physiological or neurological measurements such as heart rate variability, fMRI data or cortisol levels were collected. Interpretations of stress responses or habit formation were therefore grounded in the interpretive application of (NS) concepts, guided by literature as well as by participants’ self- reports and observed behaviours. I make this explicit to clarify the scope of the evidence and to show how (NS) was used as a conceptual resource within the analysis. This point is revisited in section 3.8.1 on methodological limitations.

3.5.3 Preliminary patterns, narrative vignettes and reflexive layer

As I cycled through coding and journalling, I tracked how patterns of language, affect, and action were expressed across cases, and I used these observations to inform theme development without finalising interpretive claims at this stage. To capture the nuance of each journey, I constructed short narrative vignettes for each leader undertaking coaching in Phases 1 and 4 and for the leaders and coaches undertaking interviews in Phases 2 and 3. These vignettes functioned as an analytic synthesis tool, supporting within-case coherence and cross-case comparison alongside reflexive thematic analysis. They acted as story-like summaries that traced how each participant moved between insight and enactment over time and supported later integration in the findings chapter.

My reflexive practice remained integral throughout this analytic writing. I noted explicitly where my interventions, such as teaching a stress regulation technique or challenging a leadership narrative, intersected with a leaders progress or resistance. I also documented shifts in my own stance as a coach-researcher and noticed times when I pressed a point more firmly or, conversely, chose to step back. These reflections were then linked to my evolving interpretations and analytic decisions. Reflexivity also meant questioning myself, asking why I felt uneasy at certain points and whether that unease reflected the participant’s hesitation or my own anxiety about their progress. This discipline helped me ensure that the patterns I recorded were firmly anchored in the participants’ experience and supported by my self-awareness.

In practice, this meant I was continually testing whether each theme truly came from the data. For example, when I noticed leaders describing impostor feelings, I cross-checked each instance by asking whether the words were theirs or mine. I asked whether they had explicitly spoken of self- doubt about legitimacy, or whether I was overlaying a known concept onto their narratives. I used peer coaching notes, where I had discussed these reactions, and member reflections, where participants responded to my interpretations, to check and to refine each theme so that it did represent their realities. I felt this reflexive vigilance deepened my analysis by showing not only what patterns were present but also how and why they unfolded in each context and how they may be influenced by my own coaching choices.

3.5.4 Managing data volume

When I first began designing the method, I was concerned that I might not generate enough data to address my research questions. In practice, the opposite proved true. The qualitative material was both voluminous and rich, particularly in the in-depth coaching phases and this created a practical challenge. I felt at times a single participant’s material, including six session transcripts, journal notes and drawings, could have stood alone as a standalone case study.

Participants often shared narratives that broadened the relational field of the coaching work, sometimes moving into areas not directly tied to my research focus on the insight-to-action gap. These narratives mattered in the moment, as they could illuminate avoidance, reveal preoccupations, or influence the flow of the coaching relationship. For the purposes of my thesis, I held these narratives as part of the broader context of the work, while giving analytic focus to the material most closely connected to my research questions. To maintain coherence, I continuously aligned coding and theme development with my research aims defined in Chapter 2, grouping contextual material when it moved too far from the central inquiry into how insights become actions. This discipline ensured that the findings I presented remained closely tied to the core research focus.

I also maintained ethical and personal boundaries while working with the data. Protecting the participants’ privacy was paramount and any details that could identify a person or their organisation were generalised or omitted from the final text. I did have to remind myself often that not every observation could be included. This was at times challenging and I tried to ensure I had a balance of having the data and my research questions guide me.

I also want to acknowledge the depth and generosity of what participants shared. Their narratives, images and PRISM profiles often contained more insight than could be represented. While not every contribution could be included in the written thesis, each influenced my understanding and informed the direction of my research. The findings presented in later chapters are therefore carried by far more participant wisdom than is visible in the selected extracts.

3.5.5 Mapping methods to research questions

To ensure transparency in how my research’s design addressed each research question, I created a mapping that linked research questions with data sources and analytic strategies. Table 3.11 sets out this mapping, showing how each of the five research questions, RQ1 to RQ5, was connected to the sources of data and the approaches to analysis.

Table 3.11 Mapping of research methods to research questions

Table 3.12 Trustworthiness criteria and actions

3.8.1 Limitations

The following limitations describe the contextual and methodological constraints of my research, setting the frame for how the results can be understood.

• Small non-random sample: with eighteen participants across four phases, my research used purposive rather than random sampling. This limits broad generalisability but strengthens depth and nuance. Findings should be viewed as context-rich patterns that inform theory and practice rather than universal laws.
• Context-specific population: all participants were drawn from Australian business and corporate settings. Findings may need adjustment when applied in different cultural or organisational environments.
• Professional proximity bias: my dual role as coach and researcher introduced the possibility of interpretive bias. Reflexive journaling, peer debriefing and boundary setting mitigated this, yet complete objectivity was neither expected nor possible.
• Limited time frame: engagements spanned two to four months, offering insight into short- term behavioural shifts but not long-term maintenance. Longitudinal follow-up beyond my thesis would be required to assess durability.
• Methodological novelty: my research combines (SP), (NS) and (AM) within a practice-led interpretivist design. While each framework has been applied independently in coaching research, their combined use in a single, reflexive research remains relatively under- explored. This integrative approach provided a multidimensional lens for examining how insight translates into action.
• Partial inference on (NS): while (NS) concepts such as stress responses and habit loops were applied, no physiological measures (e.g., cortisol, HRV, fMRI) were collected. Interpretations therefore remain conceptual and context-specific, grounded in participant reports and observed behaviour rather than direct physiological evidence.

3.8.2 Delimitations

These delimitations reflect the boundaries I intentionally set to focus my research’s scope and analytic depth.

• Focus on (SP), (NS) and (AM): I intentionally narrowed the theoretical lens to these three frameworks in order to ensure conceptual coherence and analytic depth. Other approaches, such as cognitive behavioural coaching, were not included.
• Leadership coaching context: my research was confined to leadership and executive coaching. It does not claim direct relevance to other coaching forms (e.g., life coaching, therapeutic practice), as these contexts fall outside the scope of my research questions.
• Qualitative depth over quantitative breadth: consistent with a constructivist stance, I prioritised narrative, relational and emotional complexity over standardised outcome measures.

3.9 Practitioner reflexivity

As I developed the method, I realised the design itself was part of my reflexive practice. My years of coaching influenced what I paid attention to, and my reflections guided the choices I made about participants, data, and analysis. It was important that the method felt congruent with my practice, that the focus on coaching remained central, and that the approach aligned with the paradigm I had chosen. In working towards congruence, I gained clarity about how my stance as a coach-researcher influenced both the purpose and the process of my inquiry.

Active reflexivity was the way I came to understand both my coaching and my research. It meant noticing how my assumptions and curiosities influenced the questions I asked, how moments of unease pointed to what mattered, and how my position as coach-researcher created responsibilities as well as opportunities.

Designing the method became an exercise in presence. It involved holding my research as relational and co-created, staying open to what emerged, and paying attention to how my own role influenced the work. Reflexivity in this sense was both a foundation and a discipline it was to stay curious, to examine my part in the prseline for what followed.

Chapter 4 Creating a Baseline

4.0 Noticing what’s already happening

Before I take any action, I pause to notice what is already happening. I ask how this person is arriving in the room and what responses seem automatic. I consider the systems they are moving within and how those systems influence the choices that are open to them. At the same time, I notice what is stirring in me as I step into the space. I reflect on the assumptions I carry, the impulses that arise and the ways my own patterns may influence both what I notice and what I overlook. To work with integrity, I need to sense the landscape, including my own place within it, before I intervene.

This chapter presents my baseline findings from phase 1 of my research. Following on the methodology outlined in Chapter 3, I coached the first three participants (CP1, CP2 and CP3) within the agreed research frame, supported by ethics approval and the established methodology. These sessions were both lived coaching moments and research encounters. My intention was to remain attentive to what unfolded in the room in what occurred for the leaders, within the relational field, and within myself. I observed the patterns that emerged, the choices I made instinctively and how those choices influenced the coaching.

This chapter establishes a baseline for understanding my practice as a dynamic field of interaction and reflection. It begins by attending to what was already present before deliberate change was introduced. The stance is exploratory rather than conclusive, reflecting an intention to engage directly with experience, recognise complexity, and remain open to the paradoxes that surface. As in coaching, this is a moment of focused attention, staying with what is present before change can be created (Argyris & Schön 1978; Kolb 1984; Alvesson & Sköldberg 2018).

4.1 Entering the coaching room: a reflective starting point

When I returned to the early coaching sessions from Phase 1 of my research I was taken by surprise at the strength of my emotional response. Watching the recordings and re-reading my journal notes and transcripts I found myself pausing often, letting the material settle before continuing. What struck me first was the force of habit. Familiar patterns seemed to influence the work. Some of these belonged clearly to the leaders while others I recognised as my own.

In the sessions I had been attentive to subtle data. A shift in posture, a change in tone or a word that faltered. I often responded with presence, holding silence at times, at other times reflecting something back. In the moment I believed I was adapting fluidly to what unfolded. Watching again I could see how often I returned to a habitual repertoire of responses. I slowed the pace, opened more space or circled back to a point of insight. These responses often served a purpose however I realised I was not always making them consciously (Argyris 1990; French & Vince 1999; Armstrong 2005).

This recognition was humbling. I had been operating with a kind of unconscious competence, a way of coaching that felt intuitive but was not always intentional. My responses were influenced less by active application of theory and more by ingrained reflexes built over years of practice. I drew on bodily habits, a rhythm of pacing, and learned ways of responding to uncertainty. I knew concepts such as projection, containment and systemic dynamics. I had also been trained to notice nervous system states, to attune to resonance, and to support small behavioural experiments (Bion 1962; Armstrong 2005; Cozolino 2016). In the session, however, I was not consciously invoking these frameworks. I was doing what I had learned to do well, relationally, somatically and behaviourally without fully thinking through why.

With hindsight this shifted my focus as researcher. As a reflexive, methodological inquiry (RQ5), instead of asking whether my coaching was useful, I began asking what was shaping my coaching itself, specifically how my habitual responses, assumptions, and timing as coach-researcher were influencing what became possible for the leader and, in turn, the movement from insight-to-action. I saw when moments of clarity would rise and then slip away and when something that seemed to be true was named however it not always held.

Each session unfolded in a distinct context with leaders facing unique challenges. Yet across them I saw a shared pattern. Each of the three Phase 1 leaders (CP1, CP2 and CP3) sought change. Each experienced moments of insight. In each case, however, those insights did not consistently translate into action. This made me pause and ask what I was doing or not doing that affected that transition.

In this light, the early stage of research became a baseline of reflection on the responses I had been making without full awareness. It offered an opportunity to explore and understand what was shaping my practice through reflection and critiquing.

The following descriptions present three leaders, referred to as CP1, CP2 and CP3, drawing on their transcripts, the recordings, artefacts (PRISM profiles and drawings) and my journal entries. At this point I am not applying theoretical analysis. That will come later. For now, I want to remain close to the lived data, noticing how each leaders readiness, the relational space and my own reflexes interacted. I attend to what I did, what I did not do and what I am only now beginning to see more clearly.

4.2 Leader CP1

4.2.1. Entering the coaching space

CP1 entered coaching with more than two decades in his organisation. He had started young as a performer and over time had moved into leadership through experience rather than through any structured programme. He had become the person others turned to.

In the first sessions he appeared thoughtful and open. There was also a weariness in his presence. He described himself as the glue at work. He said it with a small smile and his words carried significance. He was not only managing tasks. He was holding relationships, tensions and issues that had nowhere else to go.

The organisation was small and strongly values based yet it lacked the infrastructure to support leadership. There were no frameworks, no shared language and no space set aside for reflection. When I asked how he usually worked through challenges he shrugged and said softly, “Google mostly.” That brief response revealed to me how little structured support surrounded him.

I noticed a question rising in me. If the system was not ready to support change, was it ‘right’ to bring it to the surface. I did not have an answer. What I did know was that moving too quickly might create more harm than help. Without scaffolding any changes could add pressure rather than ease it.

My attention turned to creating a space that felt grounded. Somewhere CP1 could think and speak without pressure to act straight away. I watched for what the system might be able to hold as much as what CP1 could hold. The environment felt fragile. I slowed the pace to match this and held the space with care (Lewin 1946; Heifetz & Linsky 2002; Johnson et al 2024).

4.2.2 Surfacing the split

I asked CP1 if he would be open to drawing an image of himself in his role at work. I explained that the drawing was an invitation to notice what might come into view when words alone were set aside. He agreed, after a pause, and began to draw.

When he finished, I asked him to tell me about the picture in his own words. He studied it for some time. “That is me in the middle. Arms stretched out, trying to hold both sides.”

As we looked at the arms I asked, “What are you thinking about that.”

“How exhausting it is” he said.

“Why is it exhausting?” I asked.

“Because if I let go everything will fall apart.” He kept looking at the page, as if the image was telling him something he already knew but had not shared before. I noticed myself pausing too, wondering what it meant for him to see this on paper in front of us.

I asked what else stood out. He touched the top of the page. “My hair looks almost like a crown. I guess I am used to being the one people look to. At work it feels like being under a spotlight. It can feel honouring, but it is also isolating.”

I drew his attention to a large yellow shape on one side. He explained, “That is the senior leaders. They are always watching, expecting me to have all the answers. It feels more like glare than light.”

My next question was about the jagged line running down the middle of his body. “What do you see there.”

He paused. “I feel split in half. I have to be both parts of the organisation the performers and head office. Part of me wants to do it all I really like both parts, but they are seen as separate. Everyone is on one side and I am in both. Another part is scared I will fail or drop the ball. I keep stretching but I never know how long I can keep it up.” As I listened, I found myself wondering how long the stretch had been part of his narrative and how long as he said he could keep it up for.

I asked, “Where is your team in the picture.” He pointed to two small faceless figures at his feet. “I think that is them but I do not really see them as people who can help. They just add to what I have to do.”

I asked where he saw support for himself. He laughed. “I don’t. I just have to keep going.”

I asked him to tell me about the roles he had taken in his time at the organisation. As he listed the roles he began to notice how many of the roles he carried had started as temporary. Once he had picked them up, they were never handed back. He smiled wryly and said, “I forgot to return them.” Then he added, “Or maybe I didn’t think I could.”

The drawing seemed to give form to patterns that had long been part of his work. The stretched arms, the glare of leaders, the faceless team and the jagged split across his own body made visible what he carried each day. What appeared useful for CP1 was the chance to see this set down in front of him. For me it offered a shared reference point that we could return to in the coaching sessions that followed, a way to hold questions about what belonged to him and what belonged to the organisation.

4.2.3 Meeting the system coaching in a developmental vacuum

Looking back, I realised how much my assumptions about the organisational context influenced the way I worked with CP1. I came to see him operating in what I would describe as a developmental vacuum, an environment where leadership learning was expected but the scaffolding to support it was limited. There were few structured opportunities for development, limited forums for peer reflection, and little protected space to test new ways of leading. Within that context, I imagined his leadership as shaped by years of trial and error, stepping up in crises without the benefit of structured learning or regular spaces to reflect with peers. This was what I thought I was seeing through his narratives and through the data we created together. At the time the organisation appeared to me as values based yet really thin in scaffolding. I saw an environment where he seemed to be learning alone while carrying a great deal of operational responsibility.

When we worked with his PRISM Brain Mapping profile, I invited CP1 to take the lead. I explained that the map was not a measure of performance but a picture we could use together as a reflective aid. I asked him what stood out most when he first looked at it. His eye went to the areas showing strong preferences for structure, caution and conscientiousness. He said these qualities felt familiar, part of how others described him and part of how he had come to see himself. As he spoke, he also acknowledged that the same steadiness sometimes left him reluctant to hand things over or try new approaches. I noticed the honesty in how he was linking the map to his experience; it felt as though he was being seen, perhaps for the first time, and could finally talk about this with someone.

Other parts of the profile drew less attention from him. His strategic thinking and tolerance for ambiguity appeared less evident and he reflected that the organisation had rarely called on him to use those capacities. They were not areas he felt resistant to more aspects of himself that had little chance to develop. As I listened, I was aware of my own assumptions and careful not to explain the profile back to him. Instead, we explored the alignment with his map to where he felt most energised in his role and what felt most draining. The conversation reminded me that the value of the profile was not in diagnosis but in how it created space for CP1 to articulate his own experience in new ways.

As CP1 worked with the map he was beginning to understand and make sense of how his patterns of behaviour influenced his role and his responses. He could see both the reliability and trust that came from his steadiness and the cost of holding on too tightly. He started to name the choices he might have about how he responded to these patterns and the ways it could be reframed. As he did this, I felt the tension of pace. His reflections risked moving faster than the system around him could hold. I asked myself what might happen if he stepped too far? Would the ground give way under him?

That was when I began to adjust my way of working. I did not want to leave him alone with insights that had no container. I introduced small concepts only when they seemed useful, not to apply theory but to offer words that might help him stay with what he was discovering. We spoke about boundaries, about the pull to over function and about what it might mean for him to take up space differently.

These ideas felt accessible drawn from practice rather than imposed. They acted as scaffolding, something steady to lean on rather than a sequence to follow. Looking back, I see that I was trying to offer a little structure in a system that gave him very little. That meant watching the pace carefully, checking how things landed and leaving enough space for him to sit with what was unfolding.

This part of the work was not about pushing change. It was about creating just enough support for CP1 to stay with what was emerging. In reviewing the sessions, I came to see that what I had been offering was a temporary container, a space where insights could be spoken and thought about even when the wider system was not yet able to hold them.

4.2.4 The coaching relationship as microcosm

As the sessions continued, I began to notice patterns in how CP1 and I interacted, especially when the conversation moved into uncomfortable territory. In Session 3, I had decided to reflect back something that had been present a few times.

Me: “I notice that when we talk about something uncomfortable, like with the difficult director, you often pull back. Do you notice that too?”

CP1: (after a pause) “Yeah. I guess I don’t like being in those places. I move away.”

Me: “What’s it like to stay in that discomfort now, with me?”

CP1: “Honestly. I hate it. But I know it is supposed to be helpful. It’s like rehearsal for the hard stuff. It’s still tight in my chest but I don’t feel exposed.”

He was not only speaking about discomfort, he was in it, and he managed to stay there. Later I asked, “If you can hold that feeling here, does that change anything about how you might hold it in other places.” He said, “Maybe. If I can do it in here, I don’t have to run away from it all the time.”

Looking back, I see that the work in this session was not about analysis or solving a problem. It was about remaining in contact with the discomfort long enough for something a different possibility to be considered. In many ways it did resemble a rehearsal, although not for performance instead for practice. He was trying out a different way of being present and even though it was new to him, it mattered that he did stay with it rather than stepping away.

I noticed what was happening in me. I slowed myself down and resisted the temptation to help him reframe the discomfort too quickly. Instead, I stayed present with him in the tension, allowing him to take the lead in exploring and transforming his experience. That required effort, but it created the space for him to engage differently with the moment.

What was evident in this session was that the work of coaching unfolds less through the content of discussion and more through how the relationship is inhabited. The capacity to remain present in tension without rushing to resolution created conditions for something to shift, even in the absence of external change (Boyce et al. 2010; de Haan et al. 2016; Brown 2018).

4.2.5 The future drawing

In our second last session, I invited CP1 to draw a picture of the future he wanted, not a strategy or plan, just an image of how things could look if something changes. He didn’t hesitate. What he drew was noticeably different from the first image.

This time, he drew himself standing alongside his team. They were all under a shared spotlight. Around them were a series of interlocking gears. At the top of the page was a speech bubble with the number “1” in it.

He explained it simply. “I’m still here but it’s not all on me anymore. We’re one team, one voice.”

What caught my attention wasn’t just what had changed in the drawing, the oversized hands were gone, the split down the middle was gone. What had changed was how he saw his place in the system. This wasn’t about him carrying everything. It was about being part of something, a shared space, a shared load.

His picture felt inspiring. However, I also felt some caution rise in me. His insight had grown but the system hadn’t changed or had it and how would I know. That gap stayed in my mind. I didn’t want to dull the moment, but I didn’t want to overstate it either. I asked some questions:

What would need to be in place for this picture to become real? What would need to be said? What boundaries would need to be set? What expectations are named?

He responded thoughtfully but I could tell it was hard to hold both things at once, the vision and the reality. That’s where we stayed for the rest of that session exploring what may be possible.

For me that was the change. Coaching in that moment wasn’t about pushing the hope forward. It was about holding it steady and making space for it to be metabolised.

And I remember thinking, even if nothing had shifted yet in the system around him, something had reoriented in him internally. The drawing did give shape to a new possibility. They became a reference point, a way to imagine what it might feel like to lead differently, the possibility with less burden and more connection. It felt like a significant realignment in how he saw himself.

4.2.6 Small experiments

As we were moving through the coaching and as the focus was shifting. CP1 was continuing to notice what wasn’t working and what might need to change. We turned toward small, low risk experiments that could test a new way of operating without needing big change around him.

One of the clearest examples came from a task he had always done himself booking the rehearsal venue. It wasn’t a high-profile responsibility, but it had always sat with him.

I asked if he’d be open to delegating it. He hesitated.

“If it gets stuffed up,” he said, “it’ll come back on me.”

His response pointed to more than the task itself it revealed the underlying tension he carried when things went wrong. This was about trust, control and the risk of being held responsible if something slipped. Still, he agreed to hand it over.

The following week, he came back with a small smile.

“She did it. She got everyone to sign off and agree on the dates. And she got a better rate than I usually do.”

Although he didn’t make a big deal of it, he was energised and it mattered. It tested an assumption that delegation would lead to failure. That only he could get it right and it gave him a different experience and a different narrative to carry forward.

Looking back, I wish I had circled back to that moment in our final session. It would have been worth reinforcing and naming it explicitly as a shift, not just in what he did but, in what he believed. I think I missed that opportunity.

Still, even without naming it then, the experiment worked. It opened a new possibility and a small release from a long-held role.

It reminds me that sometimes that’s enough. That one small thing done differently and remembered clearly can start to shift the shape of the narrative.

4.2.7 Reflections on practice

When I reviewed my work with CP1 I saw more clearly the role I had taken up. His identity in the organisation was tied to being the one who held everything together. In the coaching space I became the one who held. I stayed grounded and carried some of the load so he could set it down. This seemed to give him relief and opened space for him to look at his own patterns. It also showed me the risk. If I take on too much of that role for too long, I may repeat the very dynamic that the system has created around him.

I also noticed how my slowing and steadying worked to regulate the space between us. At times CP1 was sitting in discomfort, even describing the tightness in his chest. What kept him in it was not just his effort but that I stayed steady alongside him and it was safe. Watching the recordings back I could see that these moments were less about what was said and more about the way presence, silence and pace helped keep thinking and exploration available.

The small steps CP1 took, delegating, speaking more directly with his team and reconnecting with a colleague became experiments that were enabled by the coaching space. They were rehearsals for change. I saw myself treating them carefully and letting them stand without enlarging them. In hindsight I realised that in my usual practice I would have named them more strongly. I had softened my responses. My assumptions about the organisation influenced that choice. I doubted the system would sustain the changes and so I treated them as fragile.

This pattern was reinforced in his final drawing of himself with his team under a shared spotlight. In the session I experienced the picture as hopeful. Later I saw how quickly I had framed it through the lens of organisational fragility. That assumption influenced how I held the image and the questions I asked. The drawing revealed as much about me as it did about him.

From a baseline perspective this case gave me data about my practice. I saw how I take up the role of holding, how I use containment and pace to regulate the work, and how I support small steps as experiments rather than push for outcomes. I also saw how my own assumptions about the system influence what I voice and what I avoid. These insights leave me with more questions. How do I notice when my holding frees a leader to learn and when it risks colluding with the very pattern that constrains them? How do I tell when my caution creates space and when it mutes movement? And how do I keep steady enough to allow both possibilities to be thought about?

4.3 Leader CP2

4.3.1 Entering the coaching space

When I first met CP2, she was articulate, confident and clear headed, though I noticed a slight caution beneath that professionalism. She had moved into a senior public sector role about 18 months earlier and it was her first time in government. On paper, the role was a good fit. The organisation had pitched it as a chance to lead transformation, to bring strategy and structure to something messy. That’s what attracted her.

However, very quickly, she saw that while the organisation said it wanted change, it had no real intention of acting on it. She had developed a strategy that was approved at the top but every step stalled. Nothing ever got signed off. Her work sat waiting, sometimes for months, with no explanation. She said, “I think I made a terrible mistake coming here.”

CP2 wasn’t overwhelmed by the workload. She was at a loss for how to lead in a space that refused to engage. The system didn’t rely on her. It just avoided doing its part and in the absence of follow through she found herself stuck.

She described the coaching as “serendipitous.” She had been looking for support for a while. However, two previous coaches had turned her away. “They told me to come back when I knew what I wanted to work on,” she said. “It felt like I wasn’t clear enough to deserve coaching.” That line shocked me. I remember thinking, if coaching doesn’t make space for this kind of experience, then what is it for?

I didn’t ask her to set goals or define a clear focus. I stayed with what she brought. Her ‘stuckness’ didn’t feel personal, it seemed to reflect a system that lacked purpose and agency. She was trying to lead in a space that was confusing and incongruent. What felt most important was creating a place where she didn’t have to hold that alone. Early in our work, she wondered whether my slower, containing approach met the urgency of her dilemma; she wanted quick solutions and, at first, found the pause unsettling.

“You’re holding a lot,” I said.

She nodded. “It’s like I have to be the organisation and that isn’t working.”

That held the moment and I could feel how it would influence the work ahead.

4.3.2 PRISM profile and projective drawings

When CP2 and I looked at her PRISM Brain Mapping profile together, I invited her to tell me what caught her eye. Her underlying map (the red line) showed a wide range of strengths suggesting she preferred to work through others, coordinate and facilitate conversations, solve complex problems, manage pressure, and influence through her presence. “That feels like me,” she said, smiling wryly. It reflected how she had operated in previous roles being adaptable, engaged and execute on her responsibilities.

But her adapted map (the purple dotted line) told a different narrative. It showed her leaning toward being a one-person implementer, less collaborative and less initiating. When I asked how she saw that, she paused before replying, “It feels like I don’t have a tribe anymore.” She explained that her voice no longer seemed to carry, and her vision had little space. What had once been energising was being pared back. In that moment, I realised how much her map was mirroring the exhaustion she had described in our sessions.

Looking back, I can see that this alignment between map and lived experience created a strong foundation for our work. The profile allowed her to step outside of self and look at the map and explore what it meant for her current role and her aspirations. As reflective practice literature suggests, such tools can act as mirrors, making tacit experience visible enough to talk about (Stelter 2014; Bachkirova & Smith 2015).

We deepened this exploration through a series of drawings of CP2’s previous, current and future roles. These drawings offered a visual and symbolic lens on her relationship to role, authority and system. I introduce each drawing below (Figures 4.5-4.7) and describe it in full immediately under the image to keep the interpretation closely connected to the artefact.

In her previous role, the drawing was marked by energy and movement. The figure, wide eyed and surrounded by jagged hair lines, appeared stretched but alert. Around it were words like “strategic”, “problem solver” and “risk taker”. She described herself as operating at full capacity, singed but not disengaged. Despite high demands, she felt agentic, able to influence outcomes and contribute meaningfully. From a (SP) perspective, the drawing suggests she was holding strong internal authority in role and possibly absorbing significant systemic anxiety, functioning as a container for the organisation’s turbulence. The leadership identity she formed in this context appeared confident, adaptive and aligned with task.

The current role conveyed a stark contrast. The figure was flat and emotionally subdued, with a downturned face and no sense of joy or vitality. The surrounding words “frustrated”, “bored”, “weighed down”, “disappointed” spoke to a loss of agency and connection. The line “Helping everyone else at my detriment” captured the emotional cost of her continued effort. While she remained committed, her talents felt underutilised and unseen. From an (SP) lens, this drawing reveals a collapse of containment, a system that continues to project need into her without offering reciprocal support. What had once been a generative stance of servant leadership had become depleting. Without sufficient structure or mentorship, she was left holding more than her share and caught in a dynamic of over functioning for an under functioning system.

The future role drawing introduced a shift in tone and posture. The figure was upright and composed, with thought bubbles suggesting reflection and forward vision. She had written phrases like “grow leaders”, “make impact” and “increase visibility”. There was no impulse to escape the system but rather a desire to re-enter it differently. The focus was on evolving her leadership style in ways that could serve both others and herself. From a (SP) standpoint, this drawing reflects a reclaiming of internal authority, clearer role boundaries and a desire to shape the system rather than be shaped by it (Hirschhorn 1990; Gould et al. 2001; Armstrong 2005; Kets de Vries 2006). It marked a move from carrying projected needs to intentionally creating space for generativity and sustainable leadership.

4.3.3 Meeting the system

As our sessions progressed, it became clearer that CP2’s leadership behaviours couldn’t be separated from the system she was working in. The organisation had pitched itself as ambitious and reform ready. However, the day-to-day reality was something else. Decisions were delayed. Plans were nodded through but rarely actioned. Everyone agreed something needed to change and yet no one would take the first step (Argyris 1990; Vince & Broussine 1996; Armstrong 2005).

CP2 described it as a place full of unspoken avoidance. Problems weren’t solved they were avoided. Conflict was brushed aside with vague reassurance. “Rainbows and unicorns,” she said. “No one wants to say what’s really going on.”

A turning point came when she shared an example from her team. One manager had set a performance goal for a struggling staff member. “To learn Word.” That was it. A three-month goal. CP2 was stunned. Not just by the goal but by how habitual the pattern had become. “My manager avoids accountability. Her manager avoids it. My team avoids it. And I keep cleaning it up.”

That moment marked a shift she was no longer just talking about underperformance. She had started to name a pattern of avoidance in the culture and to recognise how her own over functioning might have been holding it in place.

“If I let go,” she said, “the cracks show.”

Then a pause.

“Maybe that’s what needs to happen.”

I remember thinking how confident the clarity of this moment was. It felt like a move from unconscious holding to conscious discernment. From plugging every gap to asking what she should actually carry.

We then traced the reflexes she had developed when others stalled and when she stepped in. Not because she didn’t believe in them but because waiting felt like dropping into a psychodynamic sinkhole. “They just don’t want to make a call,” she said. “So, everything falls back on me.”

Her adapted PRISM profile had highlighted this. It showed high reflecting but low perceived influence. That reflection, left unsupported, had become internal noise. She told me, “I used to lie in bed trying to figure it all out.” The rumination wasn’t neurotic; it was her brain trying to make sense of something senseless.

I said, “I’m not sure it’s overthinking. I wonder if it’s your wiring trying to solve a system that won’t resolve.”

Was it possible to reframe how she held the experience? The problem wasn’t just her role or her team, it was structural. She wasn’t the wrong person. She was the right person in the wrong system.

And the potential of that reframe, locating the problem outside herself, allowed space for something else to emerge. It wasn’t resignation, it felt more like a relief. She didn’t need to hold everything anymore and she could start to choose.

4.3.4 The coaching relationship as microcosm

As CP2 began to see the systemic pattern more clearly, I also started noticing how those dynamics were mirrored in our coaching space.

She brought care into the room. She was thoughtful, composed and reflective. At the same time, she was careful. When she shared her decisions or frustrations, it often came wrapped in explanation, as if she was cushioning her clarity to protect the other person from discomfort. I started to sense a patterned habit of over accommodating, even in spaces meant for her.

In one session, I paused. “It feels like there’s something around needing to explain yourself,” I said. “Do you notice that?”

She did. “I have always done that. I don’t want people to think I’m being difficult.” Then she added, “I have often been labelled as intimidating. I have had to do a lot of work to pull that back.”

This pattern was familiar to her. She described similar moments with colleagues where she held back, softened or over functioned to compensate for others’ discomfort. In our sessions, it was subtle, although still present.

I offered my reflection: “Even here, you’re managing our dynamic.”

She paused and then said, “No one’s ever said that to me before.”

The work ahead was not about pushing or fixing. It was about seeing what had long remained unspoken. We began to explore how she had adapted to leading in bureaucratic systems by making herself smaller, by easing the way for others and by taking on the emotional labour no one explicitly asked for, even though everyone seemed to rely on it.

We began to practise something different by naming boundaries, holding silence, resisting the impulse to smooth things over and letting moments simply land (Kline 1999; Alvesson & Sköldberg 2018; Brown 2018). Sometimes I nudged and other times I waited. We paid attention to where she pulled back or oversteered and tracing those patterns with care. As her awareness grew, the tone between us started to shift.

“I think I needed to hear that,” she said once. “I have been thinking it, I just hadn’t said it out loud.”

To me, that was the generative edge. It was not just about surfacing insight; it was about staying with it until it began to reshape internal habits.

As this unfolded, we returned to her future drawing. The figure was upright, and the words were clear: grow leaders, make an impact, be visible.

“It’s not about the job title,” she said. “It’s about being somewhere I don’t have to fight to lead.” She wasn’t seeking status, and she was starting to authorise herself. Not to prove she could lead, but to stop waiting for permission to do it her way.

Even as her clarity took shape, I became more curious. I found myself wondering whether the system would ever truly change. Its patterns were so entrenched. I didn’t want her vision to create a false sense of momentum. So, I asked, “What would make that future possible?”

“Not staying here,” she said. “I think I have known that for a while. I just didn’t want to admit it.”

There was no anger, just a composed clarity. The drawing didn’t set out a plan. It helped her recognise what she already knew and hadn’t yet said aloud. She wasn’t trying to get out, she was starting to take her role seriously, on her own terms.

From that point, the coaching work shifted. We stopped trying to make the system different. The focus became preparing her to leave well and to step away without having to make herself smaller to stay.

4.3.5 Reflections on practice

What resonated with me most about coaching CP2 wasn’t her insight. It was her strength. She came into the space depleted not unclear. Her instincts were solid, and her awareness was sharp. The exhaustion she brought wasn’t caused by confusion or incompetence. It came from holding what others wouldn’t.

This raised a question I was beginning to think more deeply about. It had also surfaced in CP1’s case. What happens when a leader gains insight and the system around them isn’t equipped to respond? This wasn’t only about individual readiness. It also pointed to whether the organisation could support what was starting to emerge. The risk did not lie in the insight itself. It was in what that insight might expose or unsettle within a system that remained unchanged.

That work required a combination of restraint and presence. There were moments when I felt the urge to step in more forcefully to push, to advocate and to offer a clearer path. Over time, I became aware that those impulses mirrored the very dynamic we were exploring. She was the one who routinely picked up the slack, stepped in when others hesitated and absorbed responsibilities that were never formally hers. I had to stay mindful not to replicate that pattern in the coaching space.

There was something covertly confronting in the way the system had framed her as too strong, too clear, too much. Over time, she had adapted by softening herself, cushioning her clarity with disclaimers in an attempt to remain palatable. A significant part of our work involved creating space for that clarity to land without the need for justification or dilution.

CP2’s projective drawings of her previous, current and future roles (Figures 4.5 - 4.7) gave form to experiences that had previously remained unspoken. Her PRISM Brain Mapping underlying and adapted profile (Figure 4.4) surfaced patterns she already recognised in herself, even though she had not yet named them. The behavioural experiments offered opportunities to trial new ways of showing up. No single tool was sufficient. Together, they offered a scaffold she could lean into while recalibrating her sense of role and authority (Brown 2018).

By the end of our work, CP2 hadn’t transformed everything around her. She had, however, shifted something fundamental within herself, specifically how she related to responsibility and what she chose to carry. She became more discerning about what she took on. She recognised that discernment did not mean detachment. Her care remained intact, and she was no longer carrying the burden of the whole system.

She had stopped trying to prove she belonged. She had begun to ask a different kind of question in what kind of space was worthy of her leadership.

4.4 Leader CP3

4.4.1 Entering the coaching space

When CP3 entered the coaching process, he was both open and measured. He was intellectually sharp and reserved with a dry wit that showed up early. He didn’t posture or perform. He listened carefully, spoke with precision and brought a measured clarity to the room. “I turned up... not really knowing what I wanted out at the end,” he said later. It wasn’t a complaint; it was a simple observation about stepping into something unknown without a clear purpose.

This was CP3’s first experience of coaching. In our final session, he said, “I probably would have got more out of this coming with a problem to solve… or maybe a bit more of a narrow focus.” His tone was thoughtful. I remember naming it in an earlier session “This is your first coaching experience… you don’t know what you don’t know about the process… or what’s really required of you or of me.” He nodded. That was enough, without a fixed agenda, the coaching was able to take its own shape.

What stood out early was CP3’s curiosity. He was also funny. In one of our morning sessions, he joked about needing a coffee before anything meaningful could happen. His humour brought lightness. It also made space for honesty. “I just wanted to take the opportunity to actually be a part of this,” he said. That intention helped set the tone of our work.

The early sessions moved in and out of topics. We didn’t follow a strict path. Over time patterns began to form. He often returned to discomfort in meetings, frustration with leadership and uncertainty about the future. I also noticed the pauses, the moments when his voice softened as he spoke about himself. Sometimes he used sarcasm when talking about work. I started to wonder who CP3 was when he wasn’t solving problems or managing pressure. What showed up when the focus turned inward?

One moment stood out near the end of our sessions, CP3 said, “Talking to you makes me realise how I don’t really talk to others.” It was thoughtful and it had shifted something. It felt like coaching became more than a conversation about work. It gave him a place to notice. He hadn’t arrived with a clear goal. His willingness to stay in the not knowing allowed something else to come forward.

4.4.2 Mapping patterns and self-awareness

One of the first shifts I noticed in CP3 came through his PRISM Brain Mapping profile. At the time, I wasn’t looking to apply any theory which I had sensed he had wanted me to. I was focused on how he responded, what caught his attention and what he set aside.

He looked at the report, gave a dry smile and said, “Somewhat scathing… but not surprising.” His humour was still there, though his response suggested something more. “It reinforces what I already know,” he said. “It’s just stuff I don’t really think about.” It suggested a kind of unconscious competence. There were patterns he lived by that he hadn’t often named or explored.

The profile didn’t tell him anything new. It gave him language for what he already sensed. “It probably just reinforces that I like doing things my way,” he said. He laughed, though the comment gave shape to something real. He was beginning to see how his preference for autonomy and action influenced the way he worked.

We used the profile as a shared map. It gave us language to explore with curiosity. “I have probably had to adjust more than I realised,” he said, looking at the gap between his underlying and adapted styles. Then he paused. I could see him reflecting as he spoke. He was thinking about the effort it took to adapt to settings that didn’t fit.

Later he said, “Understanding how I operate… or maybe accepting might be the right term… that was probably the most value add.” That change in wording felt important. He wasn’t just noticing patterns. He was starting to give himself permission to work in ways that suited him rather than always adjusting to the context.

He said more than once, “It’s not like this told me something new.” When I reflected that he kept coming back to the same observations, he paused. “Yeah,” he said, “I guess I hadn’t really said it out loud before.”

That seemed to matter, CP3 didn’t need new information, he needed time to think out loud. Naming what was already there helped him join the dots. It also helped me see how his workplace favoured a leadership style that didn’t align with how he worked.

The profile helped us build a shared view. It helped him look at how often he’d been adapting to fit into roles and environments that didn’t support him. That awareness wasn’t about fixing anything. It was a way to see things more clearly (Bachkirova & Smith 2015).

4.4.3 Feeling cornered

As the sessions continued, a strong emotional thread started to take shape in CP3’s reflections. He described a recurring sense of being boxed in, with no room to move. “I feel like I have been backed into a corner,” he said. It came up more than once and each time the words landed more firmly. There was tightness in his voice, a held frustration that didn’t need to be explained.

When I asked what he did in those moments he answered straight away. “Turn into a petulant child,” he said, half laughing. “Rage until I can find an escape.” In another session, he added, “Occasional lashing out.” He didn’t try to soften it. That honesty became a place we could work from.

The feeling of being cornered wasn’t just about being busy. It was about control. CP3 spoke often about being tasked with delivering outcomes shaped by decisions he hadn’t been part of. “It’s really difficult when you’re at the bottom trying to deliver things when the decisions are largely made by others,” he said. Then after a pause, “It’s not that they’re bad decisions… there’s just a disconnect.” He described being held accountable for work he hadn’t influenced. “You’re responsible for something you didn’t help design. And that’s a horrible spot to be in.”

This frustration often reappeared when we spoke about meetings. “Weekly team meeting… monthly team meeting… it’s the same feeling,” he said. “I’m beginning to understand I avoid them.” I asked what he did instead. “Pick up the phone. Have a one on one. Get it done.” When he talked about group settings his tone flattened. “They’re talk fests,” he said. “All self-promotion.” It wasn’t just a preference; he didn’t trust the spaces.

I was curious to know whether this was how he experienced our coaching sessions. I asked him directly, “Do these coaching conversations feel like a talk fest to you?” He paused, not out of politeness but because he was thinking. Then he said, “No. This is the most valuable hour I have spent this fortnight.” That line told me something had settled. This space felt different. Not curated or strategic. Just real.

The contrast between meetings and site work came through clearly. “There’s no waffle,” he said. “You talk for a reason. You see a problem. You fix a problem.” On site, he knew where he stood. The work made sense. In the head office it felt vague and full of theatre.

As our work progressed, CP3 began to recognise the pattern more acutely. After describing yet another frustrating meeting, he said, “This is gonna sound ridiculous… but it’s the same feeling.” He was starting to see the loop. He was watching the frustration build and beginning to notice what it brought up in him. Insight alone didn’t make it easier, though naming it gave him some space from it.

In these sessions the aim wasn’t to fix anything. It was to stay with what was real for him. CP3 didn’t need to be talked out of his experience. He needed time to stay with it, to name it and to watch what came with it (Cunliffe 2003; Brown 2021). The more we stayed in the discomfort the more clearly, he could see what was happening. Over time, that noticing gave him a little more choice.

We kept circling the same questions. When do you feel in the corner? How do you know? What happens next? Not to push change but to understand the rhythm of his experience. That’s where things started to move.

4.4.4 Challenging self-perceptions and building confidence

As I experienced CP3 more I began to hear something underlying the frustration, a low familiar voice of self-doubt. He was quick to describe what frustrated him at work. He was also quick to dismiss the idea of doing things differently. When I asked what held him back, he said, “My brain just says, ‘Stop kidding yourself.’” It was the tone of someone who had lived with that message for a long time.

I asked what it was like to hear that voice. He paused. “It’s just there,” he said. “Like it’s always been.” I wondered aloud with him about where it might have come from and how it seemed to arrive so quickly, almost before he had a chance to think. He nodded. “It’s automatic,” he said.

I invited him to stay with the moment when that message appeared. I asked what else he might say to himself instead. He thought for a while. “Maybe… that I can handle problems when they come up.” I reflected back, “That sounds like you.” In an earlier session he had said with certainty, “You put me in front of a problem, I’ll fix it.” Naming this again gave him a way to see the strength already present in his narrative.

When the focus turned more directly to him, the confidence faltered. In one session I asked how he would introduce himself in an interview. He frowned. “My brain just goes blank,” he said. After a pause he added, “I can plan everyone else’s roadmap… but ask me to do my own and I stall.” I asked what might help him find a way into that blank space. After a moment he said, “Maybe if I wrote it down.” We explored how putting his thoughts on paper might give them structure.

As we kept working, we talked about confidence as something built through practice rather than a fixed trait. He described how practice made some things feel easier on site. I asked what that might look like in this space and what small experiments could help him stay with his strengths rather than deflecting them. Gradually his language began to shift. He spoke less about what he could not do and more about what he brought to his role, particularly the practical competence and steadiness he showed on site.

In our first sessions he had said, “I know I have some strengths, but I also have some pretty significant weaknesses. And those weaknesses probably keep me further down the chain than I otherwise would be.” It sounded like a belief he had carried for a long time.

By the end something had shifted. “I’ve started to see my strengths more clearly,” he said. His tone was steady and grounded. He was beginning to live it.

This change emerged gradually rather than through a single breakthrough moment. The old voice remained but its hold had softened. CP3 had begun to answer it back. He was starting to imagine himself speaking about what he brought without apology.

His capability was clear from the beginning and what emerged was a new way of relating to himself. The more he recognised the patterns, the more he was willing to challenge them, steadily rather than loudly. The shift was measured, a movement toward something clearer. A different way of showing up.

4.4.5 Re-evaluating career and seeking fulfilment

As the sessions continued, CP3’s focus began to shift. Earlier conversations were filled with frustration about meetings, decision making and unclear leadership however slowly these gave way to meaningful questions. He spoke less about irritation and more about whether this path was still right for him. “I think I’m more and more realising I need to get out… get out of the current environment,” he said. His voice was calm. He spoke with calmness and clarity.

His role was, in his words, “easy and pays well.” Even so, the ease had started to feel like a trap. “I don’t think it’s healthy professionally, personally,” he said. His words carried a growing awareness that something felt misaligned. He wasn’t chasing a title. He was paying attention to a discomfort that had been present for some time and now naming it aloud (Brown 2018).

One morning he said, “Talking to you makes me realise how dissatisfied I am.” His tone was measured. It marked a shift. Up until then, much of our work circled around what he wanted less of. Now he was beginning to explore what he might want more of. That part emerged slowly with effort yet it opened something new in the room.

He began speaking more about work that asked something of him. “I’d like more significant work scopes,” he said. He was clear he did not want to manage more people or sit in more meetings. What drew him was work that required thinking, something with complexity and purpose. He was also clear that senior leadership did not appeal. “I don’t want to be a general manager,” he told me. “Part of the ego would love to be in charge, but I just don’t think that the people side of it… would do it for me.”

That kind of openness gave us room for a different conversation. I asked if he had ever thought about joining a board. “It might give you that strategic thinking and impact without the politics and day-to- day people management,” I said. He paused, then said, “I haven’t actually thought about it.” After another moment, he added, “I guess I see a ceiling between where I am and those roles.” That image stayed present in the conversation. It felt less about skill and more about how the system was shaped, as though the direction he wanted was not part of its design.

He also began to think more broadly about what mattered. “Nobody on their deathbed said, ‘I wish I got a better job,’” he said, half laughing. Still, there was something serious behind it. He was thinking about meaning. About what kind of work would feel worth it. About how it might affect his life and his family. We talked about his two young children and what kind of work would sustain him over the next fifteen years. He nodded as the question began to take form. That conversation gave clarity to what had felt abstract. He wasn’t looking for reinvention. He was searching for something that aligned more closely with the direction he was now taking.

By our final sessions, CP3 had started taking small steps. He reached out to a trusted colleague. “I have called in a favour,” he said. “Might as well make the most of it.” It was a small move yet full of intent. Deliberate and considered, it marked the beginning of action and a shift from sitting with dissatisfaction to leaning forward.

What stood out to me in the coaching process was that CP3 did not enter coaching saying he wanted a new job. That question surfaced slowly, almost sideways. It arose from staying with dissatisfaction long enough to notice what it pointed toward. The movement from irritation to intention was where the shift happened.

He left our final session without a plan. What he carried was a different stance. “I’m not sure exactly where I’m going,” he said. “But I know I need to go somewhere different.” That felt enough for now. It was less about solving everything at once and more about claiming a readiness that came from him. A steady willingness to take the next step.

4.4.6 Reflections on practice

CP3 entered coaching without a defined goal, yet that openness influenced the work in meaningful ways. Without a fixed outcome, we had room to stay with what surfaced frustration, doubt, clarity and the subtle questions that followed. What emerged wasn’t a plan or a breakthrough but a shift in how he related to his own experience.

He brought precision, dry humour and restraint. He was comfortable staying on task, less so when attention turned inward. Still, across our conversations, he stayed with it. What deepened over time was his willingness to examine the spaces where things didn’t quite fit whether in meetings, decisions made without his input or the broader misalignment between the work he was doing and what felt meaningful to him.

I had to be mindful of pace. CP3 was quick to analyse. So was I. It would have been easy to stay in our heads. When I slowed things down or brought in a metaphor, something shifted. The story of the Potemkin village (a constructed façade designed to give the illusion of progress or prosperity where little actually exists) gave him a way to name organisational inauthenticity without turning it into a grievance. It gave us shared language and made the pattern easier to hold.

What changed wasn’t his skillset. That was never in doubt. His shift was in within himself, he began to see the patterns more clearly, the ones in his context and the ones in himself. He started to challenge what had felt fixed with clarity. Small shifts followed a phone call, a drawing, a pause before dismissing his own idea.

At the point when he said, “Talking to you makes me realise how I don’t really talk to others.” That comment revealed to me something about the space between reflection and action. It pointed to the purpose of the work not to provide answers but to create conditions where the unsaid could be noticed and worked with.

By the end, he hadn’t solved everything. He hadn’t mapped out a next move. What had shifted was his readiness to stop tolerating what no longer aligned. He didn’t need coaching to become someone new. He needed space to hear himself clearly enough to act from who he already was.

4.5 Cross case analysis

Across the three case studies, CP1, CP2 and CP3, what began as distinct coaching journeys gradually revealed something more interconnected. Despite differences in context, a non-profit arts organisation, a bureaucratic public agency and a commercially driven enterprise, each leader encountered a shared threshold, the space between insight and action. Their challenges were not identical, yet similarities emerged in how they responded to complexity, how they carried systemic burden and how their own growth was constrained by the very contexts they were trying to serve.

This section does not seek to distil those cases into a single explanation. Instead, it takes up the task of noticing. It attempts to hold the three narratives beside one another, triangulating their patterns not only across cases but also against the theoretical perspectives introduced in Chapter 2 and the emerging reflexivity of my own practice. What follows is a series of reflections that find a way of understanding the experience of ‘stuckness’, the emotional logic behind it and the systemic conditions that held it in place.

In making sense of these cases, I began to see that insight was not the issue. Each leader demonstrated strong moments of clarity. What constrained movement was not lack of understanding but a complex mix of embodied defences, systemic resistance and misaligned cultural conditions. As a coach, I was not immune to these dynamics. My own habits, particularly a subtle bias toward progress, influenced how I held the work and how I interpreted what readiness looked like.

Across all three cases, I noticed how the coaching space became something more than a site for individual development. It became a kind of container for the organisational material that could not be spoken elsewhere. Emotional labour, structural avoidance and performance cultures all were brought into the room, often not explicitly but through tone, metaphor, silence and gesture. The coaching space held what the system could not. And in doing so, it offered a glimpse of what might become possible not necessarily outside the system but within the leaders capacity to name, to discern and to choose differently.

What emerged was not a linear path from stuckness to action. Instead, it was a series of recalibrations, subtle changes in how each leader related to themselves and their work. For CP1, it was starting to rethink his long-held narratives. For CP2, it was a refusal to ignore her clarity. For CP3, it was the articulation of desire where once there had been only critique. These were small yet significant changes, moments of re-alignment and acts of agency taken from within systems not yet ready to change.

In the sections that follow, I explore six themes that emerged through this cross case analysis: (1) the shared narratives and distinct defences each leader used to navigate their context; (2) the emotional logic of their stuckness; (3) the challenge of coaching in systems not yet ready to change; (4) the patterns I observed in my own practice; (5) the complex interplay between insight and action; and (6) the underlying tensions that arise when coaching meets systemic constraint.

These reflections form a bridge not only between the three coaching experiences but between my early practice and the wider research that unfolds in Chapter 5. They mark a turning point from coaching as a site of individual reflection, to coaching as a relational and systemic practice always situated, always influenced and always inviting sustained attention.

4.5.1 Shared narratives, distinct defences

Each leader arrived with a different presenting issue, yet all three were caught in a kind of relational or systemic holding pattern. CP1 over functioned as a stabilising presence, CP2 absorbed dysfunction as a caretaker and CP3 strategically withdrew as a sceptical observer. On the surface, these roles appeared distinct. However, what lay beneath were remarkably similar structures of internalised beliefs influenced by context, reinforced by their organisational environments and sustained by a mix of personal anxiety and systemic inertia.

Drawing on (SP), these defences can be understood not simply as individual strategies but as products of unprocessed systemic anxiety. CP1’s burden to ‘hold it all’ mirrored an organisation that hadn’t developed the structures to share responsibility. CP2’s exhaustion reflected a culture that outsourced emotional labour to those most willing (consciously and/or unconsciously) to pick it up. CP3’s initial scepticism reflected a system that rewarded performance over authenticity, leaving little room for vulnerability or value led engagement. As Hirschhorn (1990) suggests, organisations often ‘locate’ anxiety in individuals who seem most able to contain it (Obholzer & Roberts 1994; Gould et al. 2001; Armstrong 2005). These three leaders became receptacles.

The way these defences presented was not static. Each leader oscillated between insight and regression. CP1 glimpsed the possibility of shared leadership but was pulled back by fears of collapse. CP2 tested boundaries and named systemic gaps yet often returned to her role as fixer. CP3 began to challenge his own withdrawal, gradually experimenting with subtle shifts naming his values, voicing misalignment and making moves toward change. What they each longed for collaboration, recognition and authenticity was always just beyond reach obscured by the very patterns designed to protect them.

4.5.2 The emotional logic of stuckness

What became increasingly evident across the three cases was that stuckness was not just behavioural. It was emotional, embodied and deeply patterned (Kets de Vries 2001; Armstrong 2005). Each leader displayed moments of strong insight. They could name the problem and reflect on their role in sustaining it. However, insight alone did not always lead to movement there was something else was holding them back.

Their default responses were not rational choices. They were protective reflexes, developed over time through repetition and influenced by environments that demanded endurance more than evolution. These responses made sense in context. Each had become a way to survive conflict, incongruence or psychodynamic risk.

CP1 held everything because letting go felt like collapse. His reluctance to delegate was not a capability issue it was a survival mechanism. If he stopped being “the glue,” the system might fall apart, and he would feel responsible.

CP2’s habit of overfunctioning followed the same logic. She carried what others dropped not from ego but from a deep conviction that if she didn’t no one else would. Her tiredness wasn’t just physical. It was the toll of constant emotional vigilance scanning for cracks before they became visible to others.

CP3’s pattern looked different but came from a similar place. He withdrew not from apathy but self- protection. His frustration was not indifference it was a shield against the systems that felt performative and superficial. When he described being “backed into a corner,” it wasn’t only about pressure. It was about his agency eroding in a context where he couldn’t see a way to lead with meaning or integrity.

I could see how deeply rehearsed these responses were. CP1’s vigilance, CP2’s over functioning and CP3’s detachment weren’t deliberate choices, they were, embodied habits refined through years of navigating systems that couldn’t or wouldn’t change.

This also showed up in their bodies, with CP1 carrying muscular tension, CP2 revealing a weariness that settled into her presence, and CP3 speaking with a flattened tone and slowed affect. These were not signs of disengagement but of nervous systems stretched and over-engaged, carrying more than their share.

Their stuckness was not resistance to change. It was the cost of maintaining roles that no longer fit yet still felt necessary.

This realisation shifted how I worked. I stopped seeing the gap between insight and action as a problem to solve. I began to treat it as a protective pause and a recalibration space. I responded with care and I listened differently.

The emotional logic of stuckness makes sense when viewed through the lens of what each system avoided, rewarded or failed to support. These weren’t leaders lacking courage or skill. They were individuals influenced by environments that could not contain the kind of leadership they were wanting to exercise.

That change in view grounded me for me and I believe for them. The work was no longer about pushing for change. It became about understanding the stuckness and exploring what might become possible once it was seen.

4.5.3 Coaching in systems not ready to change

Across all three cases, a shared systemic theme began to surface. Each leader was operating within an organisation that publicly espoused progress, reform or transformation yet privately resisted the conditions required to enact it. The rhetoric of change was there, however, the scaffolding beneath it was thin. Structures, leadership practices and cultural norms remained underdeveloped or misaligned. As a result, each leader became, in different ways, a container for the system’s unmet needs.

From a (SP) perspective this pattern is not accidental. When an organisation lacks the internal capability or readiness to face complexity, it often projects that task onto individuals who seem most capable of bearing it. CP1 became the stabilising presence in a fragile values-based organisation, reliable, relational and overstretched. CP2 absorbed emotional and strategic dysfunction across layers of hierarchy, performing invisible labour that kept things moving while avoiding conflict. CP3, though more sceptical and reserved held a different kind of systemic function. His disillusionment mirrored the gap between organisational theatre and substance. In each case, the coaching room became the site where these dynamics could be safely named even if they could not be fully resolved.

This placed unique demands on the coaching process (French & Vince 1999; Gould et al. 2001). While my contract was with the individual the work was never only individual. The system was always in the room through language, metaphors, habits of deflection or over functioning and the unspoken expectations each leader had internalised. Coaching became a kind of indirect systems intervention not by diagnosing the system but by helping the leader see more clearly how they were entangled in it. This clarity mattered because it shaped what action was viable, what pace was safe, and what experiments could realistically be held in the organisational context.

That raised practical and ethical tensions. What insight could safely be surfaced if the system was not ready to meet it? Could I support the leader without over stimulating change in an environment that lacked containment? Was I inadvertently reinforcing a dynamic where the most self-aware person becomes the sole bearer of insight unable to act on it without cost?

These questions sharpened my attention to pacing and readiness not just at the level of the individual but at the level of the system. With CP1, the leadership insight he began to articulate outpaced the organisation’s maturity. With CP2, her clarity around structural avoidance grew stronger even as the system remained evasive. With CP3, the tension was subtler, his clarity increased but the environment offered few channels to act on what he saw.

What became clear was that coaching cannot be system agnostic. Even when contracted to support an individual the broader context always matters. Leaders are rarely stuck in isolation, they are often in dynamic relationship with systems that resist the very growth they are trying to pursue.

That resistance is not always visible. Sometimes it shows up as praise for staying silent or avoidance dressed as collegiality. Sometimes it arrives as delay, deflection or vague feedback that keeps real progress just out of reach. In those moments, the coaching space becomes more than a site of reflection. It becomes a temporary holding environment for what the system itself cannot yet metabolise.

Part of my role, I came to realise, was not to solve those tensions but to name them. To help the leader discern what belonged to them and what did not. Not as absolution but as clarity. A moment of grounding in systems that often blurred the lines.

4.5.4 Patterns in my practice

As I revisited these coaching engagements, I noticed not only the patterns in each leaders experience but the patterns in me. My responses, choices and timing carried influence. Each session was influenced by how I listened, when I leaned in and how I managed the tension between containment and movement. What emerged was a more layered understanding of my own coaching reflexes, especially my bias for progress.

I am naturally drawn to the moment when something falls into place, for example, when a metaphor lands, when language unlocks a new view and when a shift becomes visible. That impulse is an essential part of what makes me attuned to meaning and movement. Across these three cases, I began to see how that orientation could also interrupt the slower work of integration.

With CP1, I now wonder whether insight arrived too quickly. His drawings surfaced a powerful change in his self-perception, yet the organisational ground beneath him remained immature. I introduced conceptual scaffolding carefully but in hindsight, even small ideas may have landed faster than the system or he was ready to hold. Insight outpaced maturity and I was part of that pace.

With CP2, the tension was different. She was metabolising something significant not just about her leadership but about how much unspoken labour she had been carrying. At times, I offered questions or small experiments too soon, before her sense making had fully settled. What felt like encouragement may have been a subtle acceleration. Even well framed prompts can interrupt when the nervous system is still absorbing.

With CP3, I encountered a different edge. His process was slow, internal and less explicitly goal driven. The challenge for me was to stay with the ambiguity and allow insight to emerge in its own way. The work moved differently, and I had to watch my impulse to direct and choose instead to let it unfold.

These experiences showed me clear patterns of how I work. I am comfortable with discomfort, and that I also lean toward outcomes. I like things to progress both emotionally and cognitively. That tendency can be a strength, yet it also carries risk. When movement becomes too quick, it can bypass the slower work of staying with what is raw or unresolved.

While my foundational experiences and training have helped me become comfortable with discomfort, in practice I notice a dynamic tension. My bias toward progress sometimes competes with the need for steadier integration. I am aware that effective containment involves flexibly navigating these polarities, knowing when to hold space and when to enable movement. Naming this tension is not an expression of contradiction, but a reflection of the lived, developmental paradox that is the challenge of reflective coaching.

This reflection is intended to be a critique of my practice as an attempt to notice more closely and broaden my awareness. What serves in one moment may not serve in the next. Insight becomes most helpful when the leader and the system can carry it.

These cases reminded me that coaching involves more than evoking reflection in others. It also involves tracking my own reflexes as Alvesson and Sköldberg (2018) describe and as Brown (2021) also notes. It asks me to pay attention to what I reach for, what I withhold, and what I do by habit even when the moment calls for something different.

When I attend to what is actually happening in my work, I start to see where learning takes place. It doesn’t come from new tools or models, but from observing myself, what I do, what I hold back, and what that reveals. Each time I stay with that awareness, my practice becomes a little more deliberate and mature.

4.5.5 Insight, action and the organisational undertow

Each leader experienced meaningful insight yet across all three cases it became evident that insight alone was insufficient. The systems they worked within were not primed for change. Their cultures reinforced endurance and not transformation (Lewin 1946; Kolb 1984; Armstrong 2005). What stood in the way was not just personal hesitation it was structural drag and cultural undertow. These forces pulled them back toward the known even as they reached for something different.

CP1 began to test the idea that letting go would not lead to collapse. He experimented with small acts of delegation, and they held. Yet the system continued to reinforce his identity as the dependable one “the glue”. His actions nudged against that narrative but there was little scaffolding in the organisation to catch or extend the shift. He was still holding more than his share.

CP2 named the cost of emotional labour and the toll of over functioning in a culture that avoided confrontation. Her language shifted from internal blame to systemic critique. She began setting clearer boundaries and questioning what hers was to carry. Her direction changed and she turned inward this time it was not to blame or criticise herself it was to give herself agency.

CP3’s narrative was subtler. Initially sceptical of organisational theatre, and at times, emotionally distanced from it, he began to speak not only about what frustrated him but what mattered to him and, unlike the “talk fest” meetings he avoided, the coaching space remained a place he experienced as the “most valuable hour”. His desire for challenge and alignment came into focus not as ambition but as clarity. A comment about his young children landed differently. It reframed his dissatisfaction as a sign and not a complaint. A cue to act in service of something more sustaining.

He reached out not with a grand plan but with curiosity. That small act mattered. He began to move from distance to agency, from critique to tentative participation in shaping what might come next.

These movements were small yet carried weight. They did not overturn the organisations around them, yet they changed how each leader experienced themselves in relation to their context. They began to imagine other ways of being and to test them in deliberate, grounded ways. Coaching created the space for those possibilities to surface. In each case, what also became clear was the limited capacity of the system to absorb what emerged.

Each leader was trying to lead from within a container not equipped to hold the kind of leadership they were beginning to imagine. And I, as coach, was holding insight inside a broader context that remained largely unaltered. That raised a question that stayed with me. Is it ethical to surface insight in a system that cannot absorb it.

There is no simple answer. The tension between what a person is ready for and what the system can carry became a defining edge in this work. It asked something of me, not only to support reflection but to hold awareness of the limits around it. To discern when movement served and when it might overwhelm.

This reframed how I thought about the insight-to-action gap. It was not always something to close quickly. At times it needed a pause, giving clarity the chance to settle so that action could take place with more integrity. What shifted for me was an understanding that action is not just about movement but about timing, and that sustainable change comes when what has surfaced is carried forward at the right moment.

4.5.6 Holding the complexity

What emerged across these cases was neither a definitive breakdown of coaching nor a sweeping arc of transformation. It was deepening the understanding about what coaching can hold, the boundaries of its practice and what it might make possible when approached with care.

CP1, CP2 and CP3 did not walk away with new titles or changed systems. Yet each experienced a shift in how they related to themselves. CP1 let go of one long held task and, in doing so, loosened a role he had carried for decades. CP2 stopped cushioning her clarity and began to speak from it, without apology. CP3 started to voice what he wanted, rather than just what frustrated him. These were not sweeping changes. They were subtle recalibrations, honest, chosen and embodied.

And I changed too.

Through these engagements, what became clearer to me was that the insight-to-action gap is not a problem to fix but a space to work within. In this space, clarity develops in its own time. It invites uncertainty, encourages reflection, and allows change to grow through attention and connection. It carries meaning, emotion, and the influence of the wider system. My role as coach was not neutral in this process. At times I functioned as a mirror, reflecting back what was emerging in the leader’s language, posture, and patterning, and at other times as a catalyst, introducing just enough interruption or structure to help an insight take form and be tested. Coaching, through this lens, is about creating the conditions for change that feels considered and genuine.

What also became clear is that this work rarely follows a straight line. Insight may not lead directly to action, just as containment doesn’t always bring transformation or reflection immediate resolution. At times, it simply opens a more truthful way of being with what is.

For me, this meant letting go of the idea that ‘good’ coaching moves quickly or produces visible outcomes. It meant learning to tolerate stillness and to trust that naming something is sometimes enough. It meant recognising that when a leader leaves a session with a slightly different way of holding themselves or a newly spoken truth, something has already shifted, even if the system around them has yet to change.

These cases reminded me that coaching is about entering the system with the leader, seeing its complexity together, naming what is present, and standing beside them as they decide how or whether to move.

Through this process, the work becomes less about helping someone change and more about helping them recognise and trust what is already taking shape within. It is work that is steady, often unseen, yet deeply human (Alvesson & Sköldberg 2018; Brown 2018; Petriglieri & Petriglieri 2020).

4.6 Bridge to widening the lens

If Chapter 4 held a mirror to my early practice, then what follows is an invitation to look up and out. The coaching experiences of CP1, CP2 and CP3 did more than illuminate the experiences of the leaders. They revealed patterns in me. They traced how insight emerged where movement stalled and what both coach and leader carried often silently on behalf of systems not ready to shift.

These were experiences of internal recalibration and of change that begins in how someone sees themselves, before any outward shift in action. They revealed that the insight-to-action gap is rarely a matter of motivation or will. It is influenced by emotional logic, embodied habit and the broader systems that reward survival over change.

They also surfaced tensions I am still learning to hold. How much can a coaching space safely surface when the surrounding system remains static. What becomes possible and what becomes risky when insight outpaces containment. And how do I track my own impulses toward movement when the work may need stillness instead.

To extend these reflections and see how they resonated beyond my own experience, I spoke with six experienced coaches (COACH1-6) and six leaders (LEAD1-6) through twelve in-depth interviews. Chapter 5 introduces the voices of the six coaches and six leaders, each of whom has engaged in coaching and lived through its complexities. Through twelve in-depth interviews, I that Chapter 5 will build upon as it explores what supports or constrains the movement from insight-to-action.

Chapter 5 Listening Beyond the Self

5.0 Widening the lens

When reflection reaches its edge, looking beyond the self can gather a fresh perspective. A leader might have spent time exploring their own patterns; however, new insight often comes when they step outside their own narrative and hear how others experience similar dynamics. What do other people see that I might not? What might their reflections help me surface in myself?

In Chapters 1 - 3 I introduced a practice-led interpretivist paradigm and in Chapter 4 I examined my own coaching practice through three Phase 1 research coaching cases (CP1-CP3). Chapter 5 builds directly on that groundwork by widening the lens. It draws on the voices of six experienced coaches and six leaders who have participated in coaching to explore whether the insight-to-action gap observed in my own practice reflects broader patterns. I also situate these voices within contemporary coaching research, drawing on recent systematic reviews that emphasise the centrality of the coaching relationship (Athanasopoulou & Dopson 2018; Bozer & Jones 2018; Vermeiden et al. 2022; Nicolau et al. 2023) and recent meta-analyses that highlight positive organisational outcomes when mechanisms such as trust and alliance are clearly delineated (Cannon- Bowers et al. 2023).

This chapter initiates the next stage of my inquiry. Having looked closely at my own coaching practice in Chapter 4 my focus now moves to the perspectives of others. I invite the voices of others into the conversation; the six experienced coaches (COACH1-6) and six leaders (LEAD1-6) who have experienced coaching who were participants in Phases 2 and 3 of my research. I purposively sampled participants across multiple industries and seniority levels to broaden my inquiry’s breadth and depth. Each participant had engaged in coaching for at least six months. I designed these twelve interviews an opportunity to sit with others’ experiences and explore the same questions through diverse perspectives and to be open to what was being presented and to challenge my own experience.

I did not assume my research participants were already wrestling with the insight-to-action gap in the same terms I had been. I posed the question to them directly: Why might insight not always lead to meaningful change and what have they noticed in their coaching or in being coached that might help us better understand this pattern? I used semi-structured interviews that combined narrative prompts (“Tell me about a time when insight didn’t lead to change”) and targeted questions linked to the five research questions (RQ1-RQ5). Interviews lasted 60-90 minutes and were transcribed verbatim. Thematic analysis proceeded iteratively; I coded transcripts inductively to capture participants’ language, then deductively against the constructs from Chapters 1 - 4. Peer debriefing and member reflections were used to check interpretations and mitigate bias arising from my dual role as coach-researcher.

Much like a coach might invite a leader to gather feedback or engage in reflective dialogue, this part of my research surfaces insights that I could not reach on my own. These conversations help me notice what resonates across contexts, what surprises me and what challenges my assumptions. They provide a kind of triangulation to verify current findings and to deepen my research.

This chapter is about listening for complexity and trying to avoid looking for consensus. It extends my research beyond my own experience, drawing in a chorus of perspectives that add depth, challenge and resonance. As in coaching these conversations were not about finding the one right narrative but about noticing what comes known when different voices are brought into the room.

5.1 Expanding my research

The previous chapter explored my own coaching cases in depth, revealing how personal histories, unconscious resistance and systemic forces can entangle even the most earnest attempts at behavioural change. The three narratives illuminated the complex and often nonlinear nature of translating insight into sustained action. They also offered a baseline for reflexive research, allowing me to examine how my stance as a coach influenced the process. As I sat with these, a set of unresolved questions persisted. Were the dynamics I observed unique to those individuals and to my own coaching style? Or were they indicative of broader, recurring patterns in coaching and leadership? Drawing on the methodological commitments outlined in Chapter 3, I sought to answer these questions by recruiting six experienced leadership coaches and six organisational leaders from different contexts.

This chapter presents the next phase of my research. I conducted semi-structured interviews (see the interview guides in Tables 3.7 and 3.8) with twelve participants, six experienced leadership coaches and six organisational leaders who had engaged in coaching. These conversations were not designed to validate my earlier cases but to stretch and test my interpretations. My aim was to challenge my assumptions, expose blind spots, and enrich my understanding of what helps or hinders the transformation from insight-to-action. Recent meta-analyses highlight that coaching effectiveness depends on multiple factors beyond individual intention, including the coaching relationship, the leader’s mindset and the organisational context (Nicolau et al. 2023; de Haan & Nilsson 2023), and confirm that a strong coaching alliance is positively associated with leaders’ goal attainment (Vermeiden et al. 2022). In doing so, I engaged more directly with the five research questions that underpin my research, particularly those exploring the role of the coaching alliance (RQ1), unconscious defences (RQ2), systemic and neurological pressures (RQ3-RQ4) and the coach’s theoretical and personal positioning (RQ5).

These research questions were introduced as working guides in Chapter 1 (section 1.4) and were then refined through the literature review in Chapter 2 (section 2.6.3). The questions below are the refined RQ1 to RQ5 that underpin the interview design and analysis in this chapter.

RQ1 How does the coaching alliance influence whether leaders translate insight into action and what specific coaching interventions enhance behavioural transferability?

RQ2 What unconscious defence mechanisms sustain habitual leadership behaviours and how can coaching interventions surface and disrupt these patterns?

RQ3 How do neural habit formation, stress responses and cognitive constraints affect leadership transformation and how can coaching engage with these forces to foster sustainable change?

RQ4 What are the comparative benefits and limitations of integrating (SP), (NS) and (AM) in coaching practice?

RQ5 How does the researcher - coach’s positioning, both personal and theoretical, influence the effectiveness of interventions aimed at bridging the insight-to-action gap?

I expected to uncover common mechanisms behind the insight-to-action gap. However, as the conversations unfolded, I found myself pulled in a different direction. Rather than reducing the complexity of participants’ accounts into a single explanatory mechanism, I became increasingly interested in the contradictions and tensions that surfaced across experiences. When a coach spoke of cultivating psychological safety and a leader shared frustration with a lack of challenge, I paused to ask ‘whose experience carries the explanatory power?’ When a leader described insight without follow through, I found myself wondering what was missing, was it motivation, support, practice or something unspoken? This approach reflects the shift I had taken from seeking confirmation to cultivating reflexivity (Finlay 2002; Cunliffe 2003) and is consistent with the interpretivist practice-led stance articulated in Chapter 3. Recent coaching literature warns that over reliance on intuition can become collusion if not accompanied by a critical reflexive stance (Spaten 2020), while ethicists emphasise the coach’s duty to balance support and challenge (Hawkins 2013). Qualitative research highlights that reflexivity involves critical self-reflection on one’s values, assumptions and positionality in the research process (Cunliffe 2003; Hibbert et al. 2014; Bachkirova & Smith 2015). Throughout this phase, I sustained that reflexive stance through ongoing journaling and analytic memos, peer debriefing and member reflections, while keeping an audit trail of interpretive decisions as codes and themes evolved.

Some themes resonated with what I had seen in my own practice. Trust, containment and the delicate exchange between safety and challenge emerged across roles. Other threads disrupted my assumptions. Coaches in this study (COACH1-6) described how their personal narratives influenced their practice, sometimes in unexamined ways. Leaders spoke with unexpected nuance about previously unconscious fears that inhibited action and the conditions that made risk taking feel possible. In weaving these experiences together, I found myself making sense of how insight turned into action and becoming more aware of my part in that process.

My research questions were an important my guide for the interviews. I asked coaches to reflect on how their practice influenced, relationally, methodologically and personally, what was possible in their work (RQ1, RQ4, RQ5). I invited them to speak about experiences where change did and did not happen and how they felt they contributed to the outcomes. With leaders, I explored their experience of being coached, the coaching alliance, their readiness for change and the internal and external factors that enabled or inhibited actions (RQ1, RQ2, RQ3). In each interview, I listened for content and for clues about what was said easily, what was avoided and how their narratives resonated or conflicted with my own.

I was surprised at how powerful and valuable the interviews with the 6 coaches (Coach1-6) and 6 leaders (Lead1-6) were. I found myself comparing, questioning and re-evaluating my own coaching practices through the lens of others’ experience. At times I felt affirmed hearing language that aligned with my own instincts. At other times I felt unsettled recognising habits or biases I had not fully thought about or examined. This reflexive practice is supported by qualitative research that calls for transparency about positionality and active engagement with one’s own assumptions (Tracy 2010).

The themes that follow are structured around the five central dimensions: (1) relational dynamics, (2) personal narratives, (3) unconscious resistance, (4) the transition from insight-to-action and (5) systemic pressures. Each theme draws on multiple participant voices and situates their insights within the broader theoretical conversation initiated in Chapters 1 and 2. For example, the exploration of unconscious resistance draws on (SP) literature around defence mechanisms (Mayer & Oosthuizen 2022), while reflections on behavioural change and experimentation are informed by (NS) and (AM) (Revans 2011; Yamada & Toda 2023). I continue to maintain a first-person voice. This is intentional. As described in Chapter 3, I position myself not as a neutral analyst but as a reflexive practitioner-researcher embedded in the very field I am researching. My interpretations are influenced by my own theoretical training, coaching stance and developmental edges. In this way, the chapter becomes both a widening of my research and a deepening of self-awareness; an attempt to see more clearly and to be more accountable for what I see.

Table 5.1 provides a high-level mapping of which participant roles (coach or leader) mentioned each theme. Each theme in the table is discussed in the sections that follow (sections 5.2-5.6), where participant accounts are explored in depth and situated within the theoretical lenses introduced earlier. Rather than presenting long quotations, the table uses keywords to indicate the spread of insights across the sample.

Table 5.1 Distribution of themes by participant role (coaches and leaders)

COACH5 offered a contrasting stance, one anchored more explicitly in challenge. He described his early life as marked by being pushed to take responsibility and this influenced his coaching philosophy. “I don’t coddle people. I trust they can step up.” His leaders often made significant changes which he attributed to confronting avoidance directly. He also acknowledged the risk. In one engagement, he pushed too hard, too soon and the leader disengaged. “I learned the hard way that trust has to come first and that it has to be maintained.”

This delicate calibration between safety and challenge recurred across both coach and leader experiences. COACH6 offered a succinct insight. “There’s always a pull to preserve connection. However, if I avoid disrupting it, I might be protecting the relationship at the cost of the leaders growth.” That evoked questions of when and who do I protect and for what purpose? What assumptions do I carry about what a ‘good’ session feels like? Am I willing to risk a relationship respectfully or deliberately in service of the work?

These questions bring RQ5 into focus: How does the coach’s own positioning, personal, theoretical and relational, influence the effectiveness of interventions aimed at bridging the insight-to-action gap?

What I noticed across the interviews was how much the coaches’ own histories influenced their stance and often unconsciously. One spoke of avoiding conflict due to a history of being punished for dissent. Another described needing to feel useful in order to feel valued. These patterns, unexamined become part of the relational field in coaching. They are not flaws but they do carry influence.

This again reminds me that coaching is never neutral. Our choices, when to push, when to pause and when to name the alliance are not just technical. They are deeply influenced by our narratives, our training and our comfort with discomfort. As I consider how to evolve my practice, I find myself asking what do I avoid under the guise of care? Where do I challenge because it aligns with my own values and not necessarily the leaders readiness? And how do I know the difference? These reflections invite a more explicit integration of (SP) with (NS) and (AM). For example, tension between preserving connection and disrupting it may reflect unconscious defences (SP) activated by fear of rejection, while the physiological discomfort of stretching beyond habits (NS) can trigger stress responses that narrow attention (Yamada & Toda 2023). Action experiments (AM) can therefore be designed to step in gradually and match challenge to capacity.

Relational dynamics then are not a backdrop to coaching. They are the foundation on which insight becomes possible and from which action might emerge. Trust is not assumed, it needs to be built, tested and checked. I am seeing more clearly that challenge is a relational act more so than a technique and that the coaching alliance is a container that is a co-created space that can stretch both the leader and the coach toward greater awareness and perhaps meaningful change.

As I move into the next themes I carry this recalibrated lens that the relationship is not a precondition for transformation. It is itself a site of transformation for the leader and for me.

5.3 Personal narratives

As the interviews unfolded, I became increasingly aware of the influence of identity narratives. The internal narratives people hold about who they are, what they value, what they do and what is possible for them. These narratives influenced not only how leaders engaged in coaching but also how coaches approached their work. They surfaced in the metaphors people used, the opportunities and limits they described and the way they framed learning and change. In the coaches accounts in particular, recurring identity positions such as the ‘helper’, ‘fixer’ and ‘dependable’ one appeared frequently, often shaping how support and challenge were offered. Sometimes these narratives were explicit, “I’m the one who goes out of my way to help others,” or “I can’t afford to be vulnerable” and sometimes they were implied through what was said, what wasn’t said, their behaviours or their drawings. What was interesting was they appeared as both enablers and inhibitors.

This theme resonated strongly with what I had witnessed in Phase 1 of my research (section 4.2.2), in particular, CP1’s first projective drawing depicting himself holding a split organisation now takes on renewed meaning (see figure 4.1). At the time, I saw the image as a compelling expression of tension, one split representing the creative and the other representing organisation. His role, quite literally, was to hold them together. I interpreted this visual metaphor as a symbol of over functioning and the fear of collapse. In revisiting that image through the lens of the interviews, I now wonder whether his helpfulness is also a form of protection? Was holding things together an identity that enabled his usefulness but also prevented necessary disruption if he was to step away? And did my own stance of being steady and attuned unconsciously collude with that narrative?

This reflection was sharpened by COACH2’s account of his identity as “the dependable one,” shaped by early experiences of abandonment. He described how this personal narrative led him to be constantly available to his leaders, always accessible and always supportive. At first, he saw this as a strength. However, over time, he began to question whether his need to be helpful was truly about the leaders growth or whether it was, in part, a defence against being irrelevant or not needed. His honesty prompted me to reflect more deeply on my own patterns. When I offer spaciousness, holding and reflection, am I doing so in service of the leader or am I also enacting a part of myself that finds identity in being the calm, insightful presence?

The leader interviews offered further layers to this theme. LEAD5 spoke of long identifying as “the angry one,” a role she had internalised early in her career which helped her maintain boundaries but also isolated her from peers. Through coaching, she began to reframe her anger as protective, as a sign of values and care rather than volatility. This re-authoring of her identity allowed her to experiment with new ways of leading without discarding the strengths that her narrative had once protected.

Similarly, LEAD1 arrived at coaching with deep scepticism. He had previously experienced a breach of trust in a coaching relationship and carried a narrative that “coaching is a waste of time, that they just tell you what you already know and use what you say to tell your manager.” This belief influenced how he engaged, how much he disclosed and how much he allowed himself to be impacted. Only, after twenty years since the breach of trust and several contracting conversations with his new coach did he begin to soften this stance. What helped was not a single insight but the cumulative effect of a relationship that didn’t match his earlier experience, a relationship with a coach who listened more than advised and did not betray his trust. In this contrast, he began to reconsider what was possible through coaching.

Listening to these experiences, I was reminded how tightly identity and action are linked. If a leader sees themselves as “the one who copes” or “the one who smooths things over,” they are likely to behave in ways that preserve that identity even when the behaviour no longer serves them. These narratives provide coherence and they help people make sense of their worlds. However, they can also become invisible constraints and the narratives we forget we are telling. (SP) research shows that insight alone rarely shifts behaviour unless the underlying narratives are challenged and re- authored (Jennissen et al. 2018; Spaten 2020; de Haan & Nilsson 2023). Likewise, research on dispositional resistance to change finds that entrenched self-concepts can undermine even strong intentions to act differently (Sverdlik & Oreg 2023).

This made me rethink my work with CP1 in Phase 1 of my research. At the time, I interpreted his leadership as someone who mediates and bridges as a thoughtful leadership identity and perhaps it was. I did ask him to consider what might be unavailable to him while holding that role so firmly. I now wonder whether my subtlety inadvertently stabilised a narrative he was ready to re-examine because I assumed his organisation was not. This highlights the importance of surfacing identity narratives early and exploring their protective value before inviting change. It also resonates with coaching research urging practitioners to attend to the leaders narrative identity and how it interacts with organisational expectations (Athanasopoulou & Dopson 2018; Nicolau et al. 2023).

This theme also calls attention to the coach’s identity narrative. COACH3 described her early years as a “fixer,” as someone who prided herself on having answers and being helpful. After a period of personal burnout, she began to shift her stance to that of a “witness”, less directive and more attuned to the leaders process rather than her own need to be effective. What I found powerful in her narrative was not just the shift, but the awareness that her initial approach had come from a personal place and of a narrative of worth through contribution. Such reflexive insights mirror findings that coaches’ personal histories influence their theoretical preferences and relational styles (Bozer & Jones 2018). Her reflection made me ask what do I assume makes me valuable as a coach? What part of my own narrative is being enacted when I lean toward holding and when I lean towards disruption?

I recognise a strong valency in myself of being a utility to others and make sense of things through coherence, reflection and insight. These are central to my coaching stance. At the same time, I’m becoming more attuned to how this orientation influences the kind of challenge I offer. Do I sometimes stay with reflection when a more direct challenge might be needed? When I do challenge does it invite real change, or does it sometimes sit too comfortably within the leaders existing narrative? These aren’t questions of technique, they are of presence and intention. They ask me to notice how my way of working may reinforce certain patterns even as if it seeks to surface them.

Importantly, these reflections are about my self-critique. They are about bearing witness to how identity influences practice, for both leader and coach. The interviews have sharpened my attention to the relational exchange of narrative making. Coaching is a space where new ideas emerge and it is a space where narratives are reinforced or challenged. In (SP) terms, identity narratives can be understood as defences that have protected the self in earlier contexts (Mayer & Oosthuizen 2022). Recognising their adaptive function allows us to honour them while also questioning their current usefulness. Staying with these narratives long enough to see both their protective purpose and their limitations is part of what recent coaching frameworks describe as ‘deep listening’ (Spaten 2020). To engage with that process meaningfully, it suggests that I must stay attuned to the leaders self- narrative and to how my own may be resisting or amplifying what unfolds.

As I move forward, I carry these questions with renewed intention:

• What identities are being performed in this session?
• What narratives are stabilising and what might disrupt them?
• How do I listen beyond the coherent narrative and invite what is not being said?

In asking these questions, I am not positioning that narrative change is the primary goal of every coaching engagement. However, I do believe that when identity narratives go unexamined, they can influence what feels possible for the leader and for me. Surfacing these narratives, with respect and curiosity, is part of the work, and so is surfacing my own.

5.4 Unconscious resistance

As I listened across the interviews, I became increasingly aware of a pattern that was rarely named explicitly. The unmistakably present persistence of unconscious resistance. Leaders described insights that resonated but did not result in change. Coaches spoke of stalled progress and of leaders circling familiar topics without moving forward. Often it was framed as time constraints or external barriers and many of these narratives began to reveal deeper emotional undercurrents. The more I listened, the more I heard protection, not in the form of overt refusal more as a subtle avoidance or an unspoken anxiety or an internal conflict not safe to surface.

This theme spoke directly to a tension I had explored in section 4.2.3. In my coaching with CP2, for example, we had uncovered a pattern of avoidance cloaked in rationality. She knew she needed to have a difficult performance conversation with a colleague and could articulate the risks of not doing so, however she repeatedly deferred the action. At the time, I accepted her explanations that the timing wasn’t right and the context was volatile, and I focused on supporting her readiness. However, the interviews and recent (SP) research prompt me to reframe that experience. Unconscious processes exert a strong but often underestimated influence on change. Mayer and Oosthuizen (2022) note that organisational transformation research has long underestimated the impact of unconscious dynamics and that (SP) focuses on the interaction between conscious and unconscious processes shaping cognitive, emotional and behavioural responses. What if CP2’s justifications were not the real reason for her hesitation? What if the insight had surfaced too early, before she was able to hold what it meant for her identity, her relationships or her sense of psychological safety?

The leaders I interviewed confirmed this tension. LEAD4, for example, described how she would “stay in thinking mode” after coaching sessions. “I’d analyse and re-analyse but not act,” she said. When I asked what she thought was happening, she replied, “I guess it felt safer to over-prepare than to risk getting it wrong.” Her reflection reframed inaction not as resistance but as a strategy of self- preservation. Similarly, LEAD6 admitted to deflecting feedback from his coach, not because he didn’t agree with it but because “there was something painful in admitting it was true.” These narratives made me question how often the gap between knowing and doing is not necessarily about capacity but about vulnerability.

The coaches, too, described working with resistance as a central part of their practice. COACH3 spoke of a leader who would enthusiastically reflect in sessions but never follow through. “She intellectualised everything,” the coach said. “It was like watching someone do a TED Talk to herself.” Eventually, the coach shifted the modality, introducing somatic noticing and asking the leader to describe how she felt in her body when discussing action. That shift, though initially resisted, revealed a fear of becoming irrelevant in a fast-moving team. “Her talk was brave, but her body was anxious,” the coach reflected.

What these experiences have revealed is how deftly unconscious resistance can mask itself in the language of logic. A leader may frame inaction as “being strategic,” “picking the right moment,” or “getting more information”, all of which appear reasonable. However, underneath, there may be a fear of conflict or of exposure or of no longer being liked or needed. These internal dynamics are rarely named explicitly. They are signalled in tone, in repetition and in avoidance of certain topics. They are also, as I am increasingly becoming aware, enacted in the coaching relationship itself.

COACH6 spoke about noticing their own anxiety when a leader remained stuck. “I’d feel this urge to help them move, to suggest, to reframe, to do something,” they said. “But I realised that was my discomfort, not theirs.” Their honesty prompted me to examine my own impulses. When a leader returns session after session with the same dilemma, I can feel my own energy shift, a restlessness, a question of whether I am doing enough. However, rather than push, is this the moment to ask what is being protected? What is not safe enough to name?

This, I am beginning to see, is where the theoretical lens of (SP) becomes essential. Defence mechanisms, whether rationalisation, intellectualisation or projection, are not flaws to be fixed but adaptive responses to perceived threat. They make sense in context. They tell us what is at stake, and they are often shared and enacted between coach and leader, not just within the individual. Mayer and Oosthuizen (2022) describe (SP) as providing tools to understand interdependent unconscious and conscious processes and to explore how boundaries, roles and authority structures shape anxiety and conflict. In this light, my own inclination toward understanding can be a defence, too. If I stay in meaning making, do I avoid asking the question that might destabilise? If I create space for insight, do I always ensure it is followed by the right kind of support for action?

The (NS) literature explored in Chapter 2 offers another angle. The brain’s wiring for habit means that new behaviours require the energy intensive involvement of prefrontal circuits, whereas existing habits are managed through more efficient subcortical loops. Yamada and Toda (2023) explain that goal directed behaviour requires high computational resources because organisms must process information about their external environment and potential consequences, whereas habits are more stereotyped and require less computation. When leaders are under stress or uncertainty, their cognitive bandwidth narrows, and the pull of habitual responses intensifies. This raises important questions about timing, pacing and containment. Am I working with the leaders readiness or with my own urgency for change? Do I recognise the physiological dimensions of resistance, the stress, the cortisol and/or the narrowed cognitive bandwidth, that make action difficult even when insight is strong?

In one interview, COACH1 described helping a leader surface resistance by naming the pattern: “I notice we keep circling this topic, what do you think is keeping us from moving?” That phrasing, curious, collaborative and non-judgemental, reflects an approach I often integrate. It sits between confronting and colluding. It invites awareness without forcing change and it models the kind of relational safety that may be needed to loosen unconscious grip.

I also heard caution in the interviews about moving too quickly. COACH4 noted that some leaders need time to “digest” the insight before they can act. “It’s like their nervous system has to catch up,” she said. This reminded me of CP1’s description in Phase 1 of my research where a small change occurred only after insight had been held, tested and rehearsed. He didn’t move straight from awareness to action, his process required time and my role was to stay with him as the learning took form. This reaffirms my belief that resistance is not always a failure of will, that it is sometimes a cue that the insight, while accurate, has not yet found its footing in the self.

These reflections leave me with a deepened appreciation for the complexity of change. Insight is not a switch it is a threshold that must be approached with care and that unconscious resistance is not a barrier to be dismantled rather it is a clue to be understood. As Nicolau et al. (2023) note in their meta-analysis of executive coaching, behavioural outcomes are more readily influenced through coaching than attitudes or personal characteristics. This suggests that the journey from insight to sustained change may involve developing new behavioural routines through experimentation and practice rather than expecting beliefs to change overnight.

As I continue to understand and reflect on my coaching stance, I am reminded that resistance is not a problem, it is an opening that can show me where the work is. It can show me what matters, and it asks me for patience, courage, containment and reflexivity.

Rather than rush to interpretation or intervention, I am reminded to ask:

• What might this resistance be protecting?
• Whose discomfort is being managed, mine or the leaders or both?
• What conditions would make it safe enough to risk a new way of being?

These questions, like the ones raised in the previous themes, are incredibly present and active. They are surfacing in my thinking, in my sessions and in my peer debriefs. They call me to stay with the nuances, to respect the function of defence and to hold space for the slow, sometimes faltering process of readiness. In doing so, I am reminded that resistance is not the opposition of change, it is often its most honest beginning.

5.5 Translating insight into action

The shift from insight-to-action emerged as a central thread running through nearly every conversation. Leaders and coaches described moments where awareness sparked real possibility, only to encounter resistance, overwhelm or regression once back in the “day-to-day swirl” of organisational life. As I listened, I began to see that this transition from knowing to doing, from reflection to behaviour, is not a narrow technical challenge. It is a deeply human one. This section stays with that challenge and traces how it appeared in different voices and contexts. It weaves together the case narratives from Phase 1 of my research, the voices of the twelve interview participants from Phase 2, and the theoretical lenses from sections 1.2-1.4 and 2.3-2.5. A recurring question keeps surfacing what helps insight become behaviour and what gets in the way psychodynamicly relationally systemically. This inquiry touches the focus of RQ3 and RQ4, and it also reaches into something more personal about my own assumptions of what coaching makes possible and what it asks of me.

Participant narratives highlighted both the promise and fragility of this bridge. Leaders (LEAD1-6) spoke of leaving sessions energised, only to find themselves “sucked back into my old patterns within days.” LEAD5 admitted that the intensity of everyday demands and a culture of rapid execution meant she defaulted to solving problems herself rather than adopting the reflective stance explored in coaching. This resonated with CP1’s dilemma in section 4.2.2, where systemic drag and cultural expectations continually reinforced his identity as the dependable glue. The leaders’ descriptions remind me that cognitive and emotional bandwidth are finite. Under stress, amygdala activity increases and noradrenaline and dopamine levels spike. The prefrontal cortex’s capacity for deliberate control is disrupted, and behaviour shifts toward well learned routines (Sarmiento et al. 2024). Intentional, goal directed behaviour demands substantial mental focus and self-regulation, which are easily compromised under pressure. This neurobiological reality resonates with the “talkfest” I described with CP3 where insight was generated in the room, but once he returned to his system, the pull of habitual responses were strong.

In response to this fragility, coaches and leaders experimented with different strategies. COACH1 and LEAD2 both emphasised the value of immediacy. Rather than simply assigning a task at the end of a session, COACH1 would rehearse a planned conversation with the leader, help them script specific phrases and schedule a follow up within days. LEAD2 appreciated when her coach treated action as an experiment rather than a performance “When we called it an experiment, it took the pressure off, it was okay if it didn’t work.” This speaks to Revans (2011) action learning principle that development occurs when insight is combined with real world experimentation and reflection. Participants who described sustained change almost always mentioned iterative cycles of practice and debrief like trying a new conversational approach with a team, reflecting on the experience with the coach, refining it and then trying again. This pattern parallels CP2’s tentative shifts in section 4.2.4, where small acts of boundary setting were rehearsed, enacted and debriefed. The lesson for me is that designing co-created experiments and closing the loop through timely follow up can make the difference between insight dissipating and being enacted.

Accountability surfaced as another important yet delicate factor. LEAD3 recalled how her coach asked how she wanted to be held accountable. “It wasn’t about a checklist… it was about me owning my commitments.” Some coaches admitted that they avoided follow up for fear of being too directive or managerial. Yet without revisiting experiments, insight faded. In my own practice, I have begun to see accountability as relational by inviting leaders to identify what they will practise, what support they need, how we will evaluate the outcome and most importantly following up to explore what happened or did not happen. This honours agency while recognising that sustained behavioural change requires repetition and reinforcement. It also reflects the tension between care and collusion explored in section 5.2 in how do we hold space for growth without becoming complicit in complacency?

Participants’ (of phase 2 and phase 3) narratives repeatedly highlight that translating insight into action is as much relational as it is cognitive or neurobiological. Leaders who felt that experiments were co-designed reported greater engagement and ownership. COACH2 contrasted tasks, “Things you should do”, with experiments, “Things you want to try.” When framed as experiments, the emotional stakes were lower, curiosity was higher, and leaders were more willing to risk failure. This distinction is significant for RQ5, which explores how the coach’s theoretical and personal positioning influences interventions. In my early practice (Phase 1 - Chapter 4), I sometimes leaned toward insight and reflection, assuming that the leader would naturally act. The interviews (with COACH1-6 and LEAD1-6) reveal that this assumption overlooks the relational work of designing, resourcing and revisiting action.

The science of habit formation provides further insight into why sustained change requires deliberate design rather than simply intention. Habits develop through cue - routine - reward loops, and are energetically efficient, and as such, they become the brain’s default under conditions of stress or cognitive overload. Keen and Geldenhuys (2025) found that, for leaders, even strong intentions to act differently are easily overridden by entrenched behavioural patterns when demands are high and known routines offer mental efficiency. Their research demonstrates that, in leadership coaching, new behaviours are most effectively embedded when they are integrated with existing routines and consistently reinforced in real work contexts. Without a plan to embed new actions into established patterns, the brain predictably defaults to well learned habits, particularly when under pressure (Keen & Geldenhuys 2025).

This was reflected in the experiences of several leaders (LEAD1-6) in this study. As LEAD6 noted, “I understood intellectually why I needed to delegate, but as soon as I got busy, I just did it myself…. In coaching, we worked with habit by experimenting with identifying consistent cues (for example, the weekly team meeting), establishing a simple new routine (such as asking one open ended question before offering advice), and linking it with a meaningful reward (like noticing the team’s increased engagement).” Research by Keen and Geldenhuys (2025) confirm that integrating new behaviours with pre-existing routines, so called ‘habit stacking’, reduces cognitive friction and increases the likelihood of sustained change for leaders. This finding also resonates with CP3’s gradual shift described in section 4.2.4, where new behaviours (such as inviting input at the start of meetings) became embedded when intentionally linked to the existing agenda structure.

Empirical studies highlight that habit formation takes time and benefits from specific and deliberate planning. While the most robust empirical evidence comes from health psychology and behavioural science, these findings can be drawn upon in the coaching and leadership literature, as the underlying cognitive and neurobiological mechanisms of habit apply across domains (Wood & Runger 2016). For example, a longitudinal research study found that the median time for a new behaviour to reach automaticity was approximately 66 days, though there was significant individual variability depending on the complexity of the behaviour and the context in which it was performed (Lally et al. 2010; Wood & Neal 2016; Keen & Geldenhuys 2025). Subsequent reviews have confirmed that habit strength is most reliably built through frequent repetition, consistent timing, personal investment and from positive emotional reinforcement, regardless of whether the target is health or professional behaviour (Wood & Neal 2016; Wood & Runger 2016).

Although most of these empirical studies were conducted in health-related domains, their mechanisms can be transposed to coaching practice. Without a deliberate plan to embed new behaviours into existing routines, people, leaders included, tend to revert to well learned patterns, especially when under pressure. Recent research recommends that coaching interventions include explicit planning, practice in real contexts and the use of strategies such as implementation intentions (‘if-then’ plans) and mental imagery or rehearsal to strengthen the cue response link and accelerate the development of habit (Divine & Astill 2025). These findings challenge the expectation of immediate transformation and invite coaches to normalise the realistic timeline of change. In practical terms, this means discussing with leaders how long an experiment will run, anticipating setbacks and celebrating incremental progress, while also using mental imagery to reinforce new patterns and bridge the gap between intention and action.

A subtle and important distinction emerged through the interviews (with LEAD1-6). Some experiments were less about doing something different and more about noticing something differently. Throughout leaders (LEAD1-6) described experiments that involved noticing their internal states, such as paying attention to the bodily sensations that arise before they interrupt someone. As mentioned above, COACH3 introduced somatic noticing after realising that her leader intellectualised everything: “She was giving herself a TED talk. When I asked what she felt in her body when thinking about acting, her anxiety became apparent.” This mirrors CP2’s experience in section 4.2.3, where recognising somatic cues helped to surface avoidance. These micro-experiments illustrate that translating insight into action also involves translating thought into felt experience and eventually into behaviour. (NS) supports this integration where stress disrupts prefrontal cognitive control and narrows attention. By developing awareness of somatic (interoceptive) signals can act as an early warning system and allow leaders to choose a different response (Critchley & Garfinkel 2017).

Finally, the interviews (with LEAD1-6) affirmed that practice must be situated within the leaders system. Leaders frequently commented that they returned to environments that rewarded old behaviours. Without systemic support the experiments languished. Coaches who collaborated with leaders to identify allies, adjust workloads or communicate intentions to their teams reported better outcomes. This prefigures the systemic analysis in section 5.6 below but is relevant because translating insight into action often requires negotiating the environment in which the action will occur. In my practice, I am beginning to integrate questions such as who else needs to be involved? What structures support or hinder this experiment? How might we rehearse for the anticipated resistance? By situating experiments within the broader system, we bridge insight and action not just at the individual level but within the relational and organisational context.

These insights leave me holding a deeper curiosity rather than a clear answer. I am no longer surprised that insight alone doesn’t shift behaviour, it rarely does. What I am more interested in now is the ecology around action including the small rehearsals, the relational scaffolding, the timing and the organisational context into which a new behaviour is launched. The leaders and coaches I listened to didn’t speak of breakthroughs. They spoke of circling back, of trying something, adjusting and trying again. It reminds me that change is often a sequence of steps, each informing the last. In my own practice, I am reminded to stay with that rhythm. To ask not only what the leader wants to do but what will help them do it and what might make it easier to return when they don’t. The bridge between insight and action, I am beginning to see, is not built at the moment of decision. It is built in the moments after, the ones we often overlook but where the real work happens.

5.6 Systemic pressures

While earlier themes explored the internal and relational dimensions of the insight-to-action gap, the interviews (with LEAD1-6) also illuminated a wider set of influences including the systems into which leaders return after coaching. Across conversations, participants described how cultural norms, structural forces and environmental stressors influence what feels possible. These narratives brought a different texture to the work, reminding me that insight is rarely acted on in isolation. Context matters. What surrounds a leader can subtly reinforce the very patterns they hope to shift.

Leaders often spoke of the tension between the coaching space and their organisational reality. LEAD2 described leaving a session enthused about collaborative leadership, only to hear from colleagues, “we don’t have time for that warm and fuzzy stuff.” LEAD4 reflected that taking time to include her team in decision making felt risky, “you’re seen as weak, so I go back to doing it myself.” These narratives brought me back to the organisational dynamics I observed in Chapter 4, where CP1 and CP2 struggled to sustain change in cultures that rewarded self-reliance and discouraged emotional exposure. The interviews (with LEAD1-6) parallelled this pattern, reinforcing the sense that the insight-to-action gap is not only influenced by what happens within the coaching dyad, it is also influenced by the system to which the leader belongs. This aligns with research showing that responses to organisational change unfold along cognitive, emotional and behavioural axes, and that attempts at change are less likely to endure when only one axis is addressed (Khaw et al. 2023).

Coaches noticed this too. COACH1 shared a story of a leader whose efforts to delegate were consistently undermined by her manager. After several sessions with little change, the coach arranged a conversation with the manager to clarify expectations. “Once we aligned on the purpose of coaching,” he recalled, “the manager became an ally.” COACH5 described facilitating a dialogue between a leader and their team to co-create feedback norms. These moments expanded the coaching container. They showed that leadership development is relational and embedded, rather than something leaders carry out alone.

These kinds of engagements also surfaced questions. Several coaches (COACH1-6) spoke about the ethical tension involved in broadening the coaching conversation. COACH2 admitted, “I sometimes worry that by involving others, I’m stepping outside my remit and undermining the safe space.” These reflections were interesting to me. They reminded me that coaching relationships exist within a web of politics, power and trust. When we invite others into the process, we may strengthen alignment, or we may inadvertently expose the leader in ways they are not ready for. These concerns resonate with literature insights about role confusion and the risk of coaches becoming triangulated into organisational systems without sufficient containment (Bachkirova 2016).

(SP) helps me make sense of these tensions. The CIBART model (Mayer & Oosthuizen 2022) outlines how anxiety in systems often centres around conflict, identity, boundaries, authority, role and task. These elements were present in many of the narratives I heard. LEAD4 described feeling caught between competing expectations. “I know I’m supposed to empower my team,” she said, “but everyone still looks to me for answers. It feels risky to let go.” Her words reminded me how role confusion can limit experimentation. What may appear as a hesitation to act can also reflect a deeper anxiety about identity or legitimacy.

Revisiting the case narratives of Phase 1 of my research through this lens revealed familiar dynamics. CP1 struggled to delegate in a culture that relied on him to be the glue. CP2’s awareness of emotional labour sat uneasily in a workplace that avoided conflict. CP3’s hopes for alignment were dulled by organisational theatre. In each case, the leaders insight was present. The system around them made action harder to sustain.

This reflection brings me back to my work with CP2. At the time, our focus centred on her internal hesitation to initiate a difficult conversation. In retrospect, I wonder whether we had given enough attention to how her organisational context, its informal alliances, unstated norms or patterns of avoidance, might have constrained her sense of what was possible. I now hold more awareness of these forces in my work. Mapping system dynamics and inviting colleagues into the change process are often part of how I coach. What I’m noticing, though, is how frequently leaders under pressure find it difficult to perceive the resources available to them in the system. Stress narrows attention and can obscure existing support structures or collaborative possibilities. In those moments, I try to stay alert to what might be present but not yet visible, and to work alongside the leader to surface what may feel distant or inaccessible in the fog of urgency.

The (NS) literature helps me understand these patterns more deeply. When leaders are stressed, the brain shifts toward automatic, habitual responses. Executive functioning narrows. The reflective capacity that coaching often cultivates becomes harder to access (Sarmiento et al. 2024). A recent review of decision making during high stakes events found that acute stress disrupts problem solving and increases behaviours like rushing, fixation and withdrawal (Reale et al. 2023). These descriptions matched what I heard in interviews (LEAD1-6). Leaders spoke of returning from sessions to overloaded calendars, team tension or political manoeuvring. Their bodies reacted before their insight could catch up.

Some participants shared how they adapted to this reality. LEAD1 invited his manager into a coaching conversation to clarify expectations and reduce ambiguity. COACH4 encouraged a leader to share her coaching goals with her team, which opened space for dialogue and trust. These moments reflect evidence from recent empirical research on coaching, which highlights core practices that support stakeholder engagement in interventions including collaborative design, flexible adaptation, allocation of dedicated resources and clearly communicated outcomes (Pelaez Zuberbuhler et al. 2020; Halliwell et al. 2023; Sasnal et al. 2024). They were invitations to include others in the process, to acknowledge the interdependence that leadership often conceals.

While structural changes or stakeholder engagement can reshape the system around the leader, some participants also described micro-practices that helped them remain anchored within it. These weren’t positioned as solutions to systemic constraint, but as ways of maintaining presence in the face of stress. Brief grounding before a meeting. A pause before reacting to a triggering message. These small interventions didn’t remove external pressures; however they created just enough space to respond differently. CP3’s mindfulness practice, for example, didn’t dissolve the tensions in his organisation, but it helped him stay present long enough to navigate them with greater intention. Cultivating interoceptive awareness, the ability to sense internal cues, may not shift the system itself, but it can help leaders remain connected to themselves within it (Critchley & Garfinkel 2017).

As I sit with these insights, I’m reminded that systemic pressures are not always loud. Sometimes they appear as silence, as hesitation, as the pull to revert to old roles. They can be embedded in what is rewarded, what is avoided and what is never spoken. Coaching does not stand outside these systems. It is in conversation with them. What I’m learning is to listen not just for the leaders insight, but for the context that holds or constrains it. When we bring awareness to authority, role, boundary and identity, when we stay with the tensions rather than resolve them too quickly, we begin to expand what is possible. Coaching, in these moments, becomes a way of walking alongside leaders as they learn to see, name and navigate the systems they are in.

This strand of my research reconnects with the foundations laid in Chapters 1 and 2 and deepens the narrative arcs begun in Chapter 4. It also begins to prepare the ground for Chapter 6, where I return to these systemic themes and consider what they mean for my own evolving practice. What resonates with me most is the reminder that leadership does not unfold in isolation. It is influenced by context, resourced through relationship and made more visible when we pause to ask, what else might be influencing this moment?

5.7 Reflective synthesis and transitional questions

As this chapter draws to a close, I find myself sitting with a more complex and nuanced understanding of the insight-to-action gap in leadership coaching. Listening across the twelve interviews of six coaches and six leaders has offered more than thematic data. It has been a relational and reflexive act. The process of analysing others’ reflections has both widened the lens of my research and turned that lens back onto myself. This has not led to neat answers. Instead, it has surfaced questions that feel more situated in practice and more personally resonant.

Across the five themes explored relational dynamics; personal narratives; unconscious resistance; the translation of insight into action; and systemic pressures I have seen routine patterns take on new meaning. In some places, I felt affirmed. In others, I was surprised and challenged. The perspectives shared by the participants often reflected something about my own practice, a blind spot, a habit or a preference I had not fully interrogated. These moments of discomfort have been among the most generative. They invite me not just to learn about coaching but to learn about myself as a coach and by extension, as a researcher.

The coaching relationship emerged as both powerful and precarious. I was reminded that trust and holding qualities I value and cultivate can support growth but can also unintentionally enable complacency if not accompanied by stretch. What I had previously framed as ‘safety’ began to feel, at times, like a holding pattern. This tension showed up in participants’ experiences. It challenged me to ask whether I am always clear and explicit enough in how I invite challenge and whether I check with leaders how they are experiencing it. These reflections sharpened my understanding of the relational dimensions of RQ1 and RQ5, of how the alliance is not a backdrop to insight and action but an active, evolving field that must be co-created and revisited.

The role of personal narrative was another recurring thread. I was struck by how often participants’ current coaching stance or leadership behaviour could be traced to a formative experience or identity narrative. I began to ask new questions of myself of how do my own narratives influence the work I do? When do they serve the leader and when might they limit what becomes possible in the coaching space? These questions, linked to both RQ2 and RQ5, remind me that the work of coaching is not just about supporting leaders’ transformation it is also about remaining alert to my own.

The theme of unconscious resistance resonated deeply, particularly in its subtlety. I was reminded that resistance is rarely overt. More often, it appears in the form of ‘reasonable’ hesitations, logical delays or emotional caution, all of which may mask deeper fears or unspoken needs. This reinforced the relevance of (SP) and the need to listen for what is not said as much as for what is. It also returned me to my own complicity of whether I am too quick to accept insight as sufficient. Do I sometimes move on too soon, instead of staying with the tension, that might reveal what is being protected. These reflections spoke directly to RQ2 and raised ethical questions about pacing, readiness and the coach’s responsibility to balance safety and risk.

When exploring the translation of insight into action, I found myself sitting with another duality. I believe in the power of experimentation, and I recognised how easily insight can be left hanging if it is not embodied, tested or followed through. Leaders named this gap with honesty, “I left the session clear and then real life hit.” I realise that while I design for experimentation in theory, in practice I may not always close the loop. This insight speaks to both RQ1 and RQ3, prompting me to ask how I structure for sustainability, not just insight but change, that lasts beyond the session.

Finally, the theme of systemic context has pushed me to reconsider the boundaries of my role. Coaching does not happen in a vacuum, and it is easy to treat the session as a standalone container. Leaders spoke of returning to systems that punished vulnerability, resisted change or rewarded old behaviours, dynamics explored in the systemic pressures theme in section 5.6. Coaches spoke of calibrating their work within these constraints. I began to ask, how am I helping leaders plan for the system they are in? When change falters, do I attribute it to the leader or do I consider what they are returning to? This reflection, linked to RQ3 and RQ4, reinforced that sustainable change requires more than individual insight; it requires systems awareness and strategic adaptation.

These insights, tentative, layered and still unfolding, set the stage for the reflexive integration that follows. They have not produced a new set of research questions, but they have shifted the questions I find myself holding in practice. This is consistent with my practice-led way of working, I tend to stay close to complexity through inquiry rather than force closure too early. I now hold a set of questions that feel both more important and useful:

● When do I conflate trust with comfort and how do I name the difference?

● What identity narratives shape my coaching stance and how might they be limiting?

● How do I recognise resistance in the leader, in the system and in myself?

● What does sustainable action really require and how do I design for it, not just invite it?

● What are the risks I avoid and what are the ones I am ready to take?

Chapter 5 has widened the frame. It has brought other voices into view, not just as comparison points but as mirrors. Through them, I have begun to seerging insights as part of my reflexive journey, naming what has been implicit, surfacing what has remained unspoken, and beginning to ask what these realisations mean for my leaders and for myself.

Chapter 6 Integrating New Awareness

6.0 Gathering meaning

As the conversation matures, the focus shifts from uncovering to understanding. In coaching, this is the stage when fragments start to connect and the leader begins to see how their experiences form a coherent pattern. The energy is steady and engaged, carried by a growing curiosity to make sense of what has been discovered. We notice how meaning takes shape through language, gesture and pause, how an idea becomes clearer when it is spoken, and how silence can reveal what words have not yet caught up to. This stage is about finding form within what has already been revealed, allowing sense-making to become the central work.

This chapter lives in that same terrain. Having explored my own practice in Chapter 4 and listened to the perspectives of others in Chapter 5, I begin to discern what these threads are forming. Patterns, resonances and tensions gather into a structure of understanding that helps explain why insight sometimes stalls and what supports its translation into change. My inquiry begins to think for itself, as data, with experience and theory starting to align into meaning. Chapter 6 attends to that process, allowing the emerging coherence to become a foundation for what will be tested in the next phase of my research.

Pausing becomes purposeful. I hold what is developing, allowing understanding to gather before change occurs. Reflection, for me, is active and involves staying with the process until clarity begins to show itself. In these moments I hold both roles, coach and researcher, listening and sensing as the direction evolves.

Insight begins to form as I make sense of what has been surfaced. I notice the adjustments I want to test, the changes in stance, the questions to explore and the different ways of showing up. These refinements will lead to next steps. In this moment, I stay attuned to my own movements and how they resonate with the wider system, noticing the evolving shape of my practice.

Chapter 6 is about insight. It gathers the learning so far and asks, "What might this mean for my practice? What am I starting to see or want to try differently?"

6.1 A stance comes into focus

As I reach this stage of my research, I see that the very phenomenon I set out to explore, why coaching insights often fail to become sustained change, is even more active in me. What began as an inquiry into others has become my mirror, revealing my own ways of pausing, listening, and holding back from immediate action.

When I revisited the transcripts from Chapters 4 and 5, I noticed how both leaders and coaches frequently arrived at significant realisations that did not translate into lasting change. Their tension felt familiar. I recognised it not only in their words but in myself. In systems psychodynamic (SP) terms, this resonance can be seen through the idea of parallel process (Sarnat 2019), where researcher and participants unconsciously mirror one another’s patterns. I was not standing outside the work observing, I was inside it and being shaped by the same undercurrents I was studying.

This recognition brought both discomfort and meaning. It prompted me to look again at the orientation I was bringing to my work, the inclination to hold steady, contain emotion, and to wait for understanding to form before acting. I realised this was both a technique and my way of being. What had been intuitive began to surface as a discernible stance, one that held tension long enough for insight to take form.

Throughout my inquiry, I have been bearing witness to my own process, staying present, describing what was unfolding, and giving it room before seeking to resolve it (White 2011). Later, drawing on the idea that present moments can transform earlier experiences (Laplanche 1999; Larsen & Rosenbaum 2023; Freud et al. 2024), I saw how this habit of noticing had long been part of my practice, even if it was unacknowledged. It had become an important resource within my coaching relationships.

As my research progressed, I began to see that this way of working had a longer history. Long before I facilitated conversations or worked with systemic tensions, I often found myself positioned, sometimes by choice and sometimes by circumstance, at the edges of groups. I was close enough to engage yet distant enough to see the whole. This pattern of observation and containment, present long before I could see it had gradually evolved into a professional posture.

Through this lens, I came to understand how early experiences of listening, watching, and making sense of others’ emotions laid the groundwork for how I now hold space as a coach. This was more a disposition shaped through lived experience than a skill acquired through training. Over time, this stance has become both the resource and the responsibility, a way of engaging that acknowledges complexity and allows meaning to emerge through relationship.

What follows explores how my once-intuitive habit became a conscious stance. I trace its lineage from early family dynamics through professional formation into my current coaching practice, noting along the way how systems psychodynamics (SP), neuroscience (NS), and action methodologies (AM) have subtly informed how I make sense of my work.

6.2 A childhood in a basket

One of the narratives that first prompted this realisation is one I have heard often from my family but have only recently begun to see with new eyes. I am told that as a baby I slept through the night from the very beginning. I was placed in a basket on the kitchen bench while my mother cooked, in the backyard while she hung out the washing, and in the footwell of the car when she drove. I was told I was content, easy and unbothered by being alone.

At the time these recollections seemed like simple anecdotes. However, now I understand them differently. The basket becomes a metaphor for Winnicott’s (1965) holding environment, a space that is physically secure, emotionally contained and developmentally generative. In that basket I learned not only that I am safe but that I do not need to be the centre of attention to feel secure. I began to associate comfort with observation rather than constant interaction. I was held and I was also free.

As previously shared, psychoanalyst Wilfred Bion (1962) describes the container-contained relationship as one where a caregiver receives and transforms the child’s raw emotional experience, helping them learn that anxiety can be held and survived. Recent (NS) research expands on this idea. Suggesting that secure attachment helps integrate a child’s internal map of self and others across time and space, and safe relationships can enhance neural plasticity (Cozolino 2010). In my case it seems that I learned early that discomfort does not always require action, that space can be productive and that clarity can come through watching.

These early experiences appear to have shaped the reflexive and steady stance that I bring into coaching. The calm and unobtrusive containment offered by the basket, and by my mother’s presence nearby, seem to reverberate in the steadiness that others now associate with my coaching presence. When this insight surfaced, it brought a vivid sense of clarity and connection. In my journal I wrote, “This basket was not just a parenting choice. It was a blueprint. I am connected. I am adjacent. I am aware.” This reflection contributes to the practice-led inquiry by showing how formative experiences influence my tolerance for uncertainty and my capacity for containment, both of which are central to understanding how insight translates, or fails to translate, into sustained change.

Reflecting on this experience brings awareness to a developmental paradox. While I am fundamentally comfortable with sitting in tension and offering a steady presence, I have also learned over time that my desire for resolution can surface when I am supporting others’ growth. These formative moments gave me a capacity for reflexive containment and also set the stage for the ongoing work of noticing and managing my own impulses toward progress in practice.

I wonder how much of this early containment shaped my ability to hold others’ uncertainty without the need to resolve it. Is this where I learned to bear witness? Is this where I became comfortable with sitting in tension?

6.2.1 Patterns in the family system

The basket was a physical boundary and, in retrospect, also a relational one. From my mother’s perspective it likely served a practical purpose, not only to keep me safe but also to protect me from my two siblings, who were only two and three years old. Energetic, unpredictable and not yet able to reliably manage their impulses, they were kept away from me both literally and metaphorically. Though I was too young to understand this at the time it created a dynamic that carried through our early years.

My siblings formed a natural pairing. I was not included in their games and at times I was actively teased. I recall my brother inventing a game where my “deafness” was contagious, using it as a way to justify running away from me. The teasing, I now see, was less about excluding me and more about trying to provoke a reaction to get a rise out of me. What seemed to frustrate them was that I did not react. I did not chase, I did not cry and I did not demand their attention. I was content to return to what I had been doing.

In hindsight, it was this self-contained comfort and my ease in my own company that seemed to unsettle them. I was not competing for attention. I was not vying to be included. I was content at the edge, and perhaps in their young minds this triggered a kind of defensive response. If they could not pull me in perhaps they would try to push me out.

Even my father often expressed exasperation. “Why do you always answer a question with a question?” he would say, frustration evident in his voice. The irony is that I have since made a career out of asking questions. While I did not have the language for it at the time, what I was doing was resisting quick conclusions. I was observing. I was wondering. I was trying to understand the logic of the system before deciding what it meant to me. My brother, years later, would tell me to “Stop thinking. You are always thinking.”

I am beginning to see these early dynamics as possible groundwork for an intentional way of working that is only now becoming visible to me. What began as circumstantial positioning seems to be revealing itself as a way of being that allows me to stay close to experience while holding enough distance to see it clearly.

Looking back, I see these experiences as early expressions of a relational distance that nurtured awareness and perspective. From these beginnings grew an ease with observation and a readiness to act when timing and purpose aligned. The early capacity to hold and to wait laid the ground for the later discipline of moving when movement would serve.

Armstrong (2005) describes a valency as an unconscious readiness to be drawn into particular emotional roles within systems or groups. Mine, it seems, is to be the one who observes, who absorbs and who contains. I notice patterns and hear what is not being said. I have become the person others turn to when they need steadiness, not the person they put in the middle of the action.

When I look back at my early coaching engagements in Phase 1 of my research (Chapter 4), I can now see traces of this orientation. CP1 remarked that he felt I “see through the noise.” CP2 said that being in the coaching space “feels like pressing pause.” CP3 mentioned that while he did not always leave with answers, he always left “feeling clearer.” These comments, made long before I recognise this pattern fully, reveal a consistent presence that others experienced as steadying.

I also recall how my presence was described by the experienced coaches interviewed in Phase 2 of my research (Chapter 5). One commented that my questions “do not push… they go deep.” Another noted that I seemed to “not mirror anxiety” even when the stakes felt high. Nearly every participant described the conversation as “worthwhile” or said that they were “thinking about themselves in ways they had not before.” These reflections are not neutral observations. They are glimpses into how I hold space and how that space becomes transformational not because of what I do, but because of how I am.

6.3 Becoming a coach

As I look back across my practice, I can see a distinctive way of working taking shape. It did not come from a single training program or deliberate career shift it evolved gradually through experiences that carried forward earlier patterns in my life and work. Looking back, I see that even in childhood I was learning to hold space, observe patterns and remain psychodynamicly adjacent while still fully engaged. I did not set out to become a coach it seemed to find me.

In my early career in human resources and organisational development, my role centred on systems, processes and performance. However, it quickly became clear that people sought me out less for policy and more for perspective. They lingered after meetings, stopped by my desk and shared not just what they were doing but what they could not say elsewhere. In those moments I listened closely, noticing when an intervention might serve and when silence might deepen understanding. A distinctive way of being was beginning to form in my work, one marked by patience, attention and restraint.

What I now recognise is that I had been coaching from the edge. At the time this was not a deliberate choice, although in retrospect I see how those edge-dwelling moments were creating a stance that was forming and gradually becoming part of how I worked.

6.3.1 Containment in the corridor

When reflecting on my beginnings, I think back to one organisational context that shows how it was already taking shape in my work. I was facilitating groups where the content was largely procedural and cause and effect, reflecting the early origins of performance-based coaching. These sessions often felt surface level and transactional, with limited depth or engagement from the group. Yet it was during the breaks or at the end of the day that the deeper conversations began. Colleagues would approach me, often unannounced, sensing, sometimes even before they had words, that I could hold what they were struggling to articulate.

In these informal moments, I would ask questions such as, “What were you thinking or feeling during the session that you didn’t say?” or “What might this tension be telling you?” These questions often prompted a shift, and colleagues would exhale as though releasing something unspoken. In these spaces, richer reflections emerged, and the deeper dynamics of the group and their individual experiences began to surface.

At the time I did not label this as containment. Looking back through a (SP) lens, I can see that I was creating a form of psychodynamic holding, a space where difficult emotions could be expressed and thought about. These corridor conversations were not simply informal chats, they gave voice to frustrations, anxieties and unspoken concerns that pointed to deeper systemic patterns at play. In hindsight, I was not only supporting individuals but also attending to the relational field that shaped the organisation itself.

Yet this way of working was not always welcomed. Some leaders found my refusal to “take sides” or “get in the trenches” unsettling. They wanted urgency, certainty and outcomes, and my calm presence was being misread as detachment. I can see now that their discomfort mirrored the very tension that sits at the heart of this work. When people remain in unresolved complexity without a quick fix the anxiety rises. My steadiness did not match their urgency and that alone felt disruptive.

It was often those who felt most stuck who returned, I don’t think it was because I had answers it was more that I created a space where they could hear themselves. In the baseline coaching engagements of Phase 1 (Chapter 4), I noticed a similar pattern. CP1 arrived anxious and unclear, and by session three said, “You don’t rush me. You let me catch up to myself.” CP2 described our work as “slowing down to notice what matters.” This appreciation emerged only after an initial phase in which CP2 questioned whether my slower pace met the urgency of her dilemma. As the work progressed, the same pause she once found unsettling became the anchor she valued. CP3 observed that I “don’t interrupt the thinking,” that I am “present but not pushing.”

These reflections helped me see that what I was offering was not inactivity rather it was a form of containment, where my steadiness allowed insight to gather while also preparing for its expression. The stillness itself carried direction and it held the potential for change. I began to wonder how this experience of holding might evolve into more deliberate action and what conditions would allow that to occur.

6.3.2 Naming a pattern through PRISM

As I continued reflecting on this pattern, I wanted to explore it through a different lens. During my research, I turned to my PRISM Brain Mapping profile, a tool I use extensively with leaders and teams. This time, I applied it to myself, I was curious about what it might reveal about the orientation that seemed to be forming in my work. The process of reviewing my own map gave me the opportunity, just as I create for my clients, to step outside of myself and ask what this means for me, for the roles I take up and for how I want to keep developing.

The results were meaningful because they highlighted something I knew but had not yet connected, the link between how I think, act, and relate in my coaching practice. My high intensity for Innovating (Green) and Evaluating suggests I think both abstractly and strategically, holding complexity in mind with ease. A high intensity for Delivering (Red) points to my purposeful, action-oriented approach. I can lead with clarity through a crisis. My high Initiating preference suggests I mirror and move with the energy of others, able to read a room and influence spontaneously. My profile also shows high emotional stability and self-regulation, reinforcing what others often reflect back, that I remain composed, curious and grounded even under pressure.

According to PRISM, my preferences cluster around complex problem solving and follow through, paired with strong emotional steadiness. While the tool is not intended for clinical diagnosis, it provides a nuanced behavioural lens that aligns with my coaching experience. As discussed in Chapter 3, I use PRISM as a reflective prompt, not a fixed map, a transitional object that opens space for conversation.

What stood out most in my PRISM map was the combination of low affiliative need and strong systemic curiosity. I do not require constant emotional affirmation to feel connected. I am not relational in a traditionally expressive way, I do not need to be needed. I connect through pattern recognition rather than performative empathy. To ensure my presence is felt and not only assumed, I name what I notice, check for resonance and adjust pace so that empathy is clear even when understated. This aligns with how I work as a coach. I care deeply but I do not always express that care in the expected ways. I witness, reflect and hold, and this is often what leaders need when they are facing parts of themselves or their systems they would rather avoid.

As I continued to analyse the data within the context of my research, a clearer picture of my coaching approach began to form. What I offer in coaching is guided by curiosity and presence. I stay alongside leaders, creating space for them to find their own direction. I ask questions that invite reflection, notice patterns and defences, hold ambiguity, suspend judgement and work with silence. It appears that I create conditions where the leader can begin to hear what they are not yet saying.

Thinking about this further, I noticed that when this approach remained unconscious its potential for action could stay dormant. The data from Phases 1 and 2 (Chapters 4 and 5) showed that reflection and action are both essential elements of learning.

These insights opened new possibilities. They encouraged me to work more intentionally with my emerging orientation, where it appears that I can hold both reflection and action in balance. The integration of (SP), (NS) and (AM) began to provide a foundation for my orientation. (SP) helped me stay attuned to unconscious dynamics. (NS) illuminated how stress, habits and safety influence behaviour. (AM), drawing on Lewin’s (1946) plan-act-observe-reflect cycle, Kolb’s (1984) experiential learning model and Argyris’s (1976) concept of double loop learning, reminded me that learning and action are interdependent. When holding these frameworks together it began to show me how containment and activation could coexist within the same orientation, each informing and strengthening the other. They were offering me a way of thinking that helped me approach the insight-to-action gap with greater attentiveness and potential.

I was beginning to sense how this way of working could create space for discomfort and the potential for change. What I could not yet see was how that movement might later be translated into action.

6.3.3 First encounters with the ‘Other’

While analysing my reflexive journal entries and reflective notes alongside the Phase 1-3 transcripts, I noticed recurring references to working ‘from the edge’ and to my tendency to hold a steady distance. In revisiting those reflections, I found myself recalling a socio-analytic program I had attended several years earlier where I first heard the term ‘the Other’. The moment has stayed with me as it was both illuminating and disorienting.

In that context, the term referred to how individuals can find themselves positioned at the margins of systems, often carrying projections that belong to the wider group. The invitation was to notice what that position might reveal about the system as a whole. This dynamic is well documented in systems psychodynamic theory, which describes the function of marginal and boundary roles as containers for collective anxieties and projections, making observation from these positions essential for systemic insight (Jaques 2018; Cilliers & Henning 2021). Hearing this idea, I felt an unexpected recognition. It seemed to speak to a way of being I already knew, one that involved staying slightly apart, noticing what others missed and holding tensions that others struggled to name.

At the same time, I felt a pull of dissonance. In critical theory and identity politics, the term is often linked with marginalisation, alienation or systemic exclusion. de Beauvoir (1949 p.26) originally used the ‘Other’ to describe how women are positioned as subordinate within patriarchal structures, and in post-colonial and feminist literature, to be othered is often to be diminished or cast out. This framing did not match my experience.

As I listened to those discussions, I searched for resonance. I did not feel diminished or peripheral. I felt clear, present and attuned. The term the ‘Other’ seemed to describe me, though not in the way it was being framed. I did not experience myself as disempowered. The distance I held felt intentional rather than imposed. I was not hurt by being on the edge of things, I felt positioned there I was able to see more, hold more and help others reach what they could not yet articulate.

What I began to realise was that, although I never felt marginalised, others had sometimes attempted to marginalise me. In high-anxiety or high-status environments, people occasionally tried to diminish my influence or reposition me as not one of us. Even then, I did not experience this as a reflection of my worth but as their way of managing discomfort or a strategy for regaining control. Looking back, I recognise this now as a form of defence, an attempt to restore equilibrium when my calm presence would evoke their anxiety.

In this sense, I have both been ‘Othered’ and have chosen to stand as the ‘Other’. The two are not the same. Being othered by others, cast out or diminished, differs from choosing the ‘Other’ as a professional and ethical stance. I now hold this distinction carefully. My use of the term is not intended as an appropriation of a historically marginalised experience nor is it a denial of the real consequences of systemic exclusion. For me, it is a reclamation, a naming of a position I have long inhabited as a place of clarity, perspective and contribution. I will use the term in a relational and methodological sense, describing it as a stance within my coaching practice rather than a sociocultural identity.

Through the layering of my research, I now see the ‘Other’ not only as something I recognise but as something I enact in my coaching. What once felt like an aspect of personality now takes form as a professional stance, reflexive, chosen and ready to be explored further. Naming the ‘Other’ helps clarifies my way of working and it also asks me to face its implications. Recognising the stance is only part of this process as I must also attend to the weight it carries and the responsibilities it creates.

6.3.4 Why I didn’t see It sooner

Although I had grasped the concept of the ‘Other’ intellectually, it took time for me to recognise its relevance to my own coaching stance. I knew this way of being, yet I did not see it as integral to my practice. For years, in my roles as consultant, facilitator and organisational participant, I had worked with people while standing slightly apart by observing and attending to the dynamics of the system and what was unfolding. I could often name what was happening between people in the room, identifying patterns such as projection, resistance or over-functioning, and help us notice how these dynamics shaped our work. It now seems remarkable that I could observe these processes when working with others without recognising that the same stance was also shaping how I coached. I could see the field clearly but not yet see myself within it.

From a (SP) perspective, this delayed recognition can be framed through the notion of afterwardness (Nachträglichkeit, Laplanche 1999), the process through which earlier experiences acquire new meaning in the light of later understanding. What I had known in my body but not in language now became thinkable. It was, in Bollas’s (1987) terms, an unthought known, a lived but unarticulated pattern carried within me yet unnamed. In Bion’s (1962) sense, this might be conceived not simply as a role assigned by the system and more as a valency, a predisposition or readiness within me to take up that position (Obholzer & Roberts 1994; Gould et al. 2021). My bias toward steadiness, reflection and containment may have drawn me, almost unconsciously, into the stance of the ‘Other’.

Looking back, I can also see how the prevailing constructs of coaching, with their emphasis on action, positivity and partnership, may have temporarily blinded me to what I already knew. Immersed in these dominant narratives, I felt an incongruence between what was expected of a coach and my natural stance. I realise now with the ‘expectations of how to coach’ that I did not always bring myself fully to the role and I adapted by expressing my reflective way of working more subtly within those frames. Because I had not yet named it, I could not fully appreciate that this intuitive, systemic presence was the very stance shaping my coaching practice (Armstrong 2005).

This for me was an important realisation about how we can be unconsciously shaped by the systems we engage with. If part of this blindness was possibly influenced by how coaching itself has been framed in the wider field that I discussed in earlier chapters. Where much of the literature positions the coach as someone who does something to the leader, motivating, unlocking or facilitating change, as if transformation resides in technique or intervention. My own experience has always felt different as I work with what emerges in the coaching alliance itself all the tensions, insights and movements that can arise in relationship. I can articulate now that my role is not to act upon the leader it is to notice what is already happening between us and allow meaning to inform what happens next (de Haan 2008; de Haan 2019). How I think about it now is that my stance was never passive or detached. It was active in a different way that appears to enable the conditions in which awareness could become action.

Seeing it through this lens, my delayed recognition mirrors the dynamic that first drew me to my research; the gap between knowing and acting, between insight and integration. I was living the same hesitation between awareness and embodiment that I sought to understand in others. Those early questions, what prevents deep awareness from becoming sustained change, and what allows it to be sustained, now appear as early expressions of my own process. My inquiry has not only been about others’ learning but a way of re-integrating my own. This moment of recognition represents a reflexive turning point in my research, where my inquiry becomes a mirror for my own developmental process.

Naming this stance now feels empowering. It allows me to hold a new narrative about what coaching can be and to see that my form of presence, with its reflective distance, containment and capacity to hold tension without collapsing, is not counter to the coaching relationship. It is, in fact, central to the kind of transformation I support. What once felt outside the coaching frame now begins to redraw the frame itself. This moment marks the transition from unconscious enactment to conscious awareness, signalling the point at which reflection becomes method.

6.3.5 Responsibility

As I recognise what it means to hold this stance more consciously, I am also becoming clearer of the responsibilities that come with it. The ‘Other’ carries both influence and expectation. I am beginning to wonder what this asks of me, how I might use it as a resource and what happens when I do not.

Bearing witness, particularly when standing at the edge of systems calls for both discernment and attentiveness. For me it means staying holding a space of deep attention and presence and being present with discomfort without rushing to relieve it. It is in this stance that I witness not only my leaders emotional life but my own. Here the process of afterwardness (Laplanche 1999) has helped me to see that this stance is not a passive observation but an active engagement with the emotional and systemic forces at play. The responsibility I think lies less in what I do than in how I am, how I listen, wait and choose when to act.

Sociologist Arlie Hochschild (2003 p.7) speaks of emotional labour as the effort required to manage feelings in the service of others. This idea lingers with me. I am beginning to see that to hold this stance responsibly may involve similar work, noticing when I am steady and when that steadiness conceals fatigue, when I am open and when I have closed off to protect myself. The responsibility in this sense may mean attending to how I regulate myself so that the stance remains a resource for meaning and learning.

At this point, I will continue to learn how to take up these responsibilities with greater intention. I have long practised many of them intuitively, as I am beginning to see them more clearly and to hold them with awareness. This will include staying alert to how I am being used by the system, how I might inadvertently collude with it, and how I can offer what I observe back in a way that supports learning. The responsibility in this sense is not ‘new’ to me, however it is becoming more deliberate. My process now is to inhabit it consciously, bringing reflexivity, courage and care to how I use the stance in practice. This recognition informs my emerging understanding of what it means to take up my stance as both a methodological and ethical act within coaching practice.

6.4 My thesis as a container for my own learning

As I continue my research, I notice that this process itself is not simply a means to an end and that it has become a space of transformation for me as much as for the participants. What I initially set out to research in others, why insight so often fails to become action is becoming clearer as I am wrestling with the very same dynamic. While I generated insights through the interviews (with COACH1-6 and LEAD1-6), the literature and through reflective practice, I am also experiencing a hesitation. I have begun to name my stance; however, I have not yet acted on what I now know and because of that I sit in my own version of the gap.

It is helpful to think of my thesis as a kind of container. Much like the coaching space I offer to others, it holds my developing identity, my unresolved tensions and my deepening reflections. I now recognise that I am not standing apart from my research. I am inside it, shaped by it and increasingly aware that I am subject to the same systemic and psychodynamic forces I am researching in leaders and coaches.

6.4.1 Mirror effects and emotional resonance

While transcribing the baseline coaching engagements of Phase 1 of my research (Chapter 4) and coding interviews with experienced coaches and coached leaders of Phases 2 and 3 of my research (Chapter 5) I notice a resonance. The leaders speak about knowing what needs to change yet struggling to follow through. The coaches describe sessions full of insight and emotional depth, followed by behavioural stalling. These reflections do not land as distant data points instead they feel familiar and uncomfortably close.

When I heard CP1 worry that his efforts to appear confident might be seen as false, I think about my own internal debates about whether naming the ‘Other’ would be seen as legitimate in academic terms. When CP2 expressed a feeling of pushing cultural change alone, I am reminded of my own experience of holding a systemic lens that few around me recognise. These moments are deeply empathetic and emotionally resonant. I now understand this more deeply as a parallel process (Sarnat 2019). I am both coach and leader, container and contained. My internal world mirrors the dilemmas I am researching.

6.4.2 Reflexivity and afterwardness

To make sense of this resonance I began to journal more deliberately. My entries were mixed with some filled with doubt, others with flashes of clarity, some showing resistance to naming my stance, and others noting pride in my strengths. I noticed myself circling around something that and I was possibly experiencing that delayed arrival of meaning (Laplanche 1999; Larsen & Rosenbaum 2023; Freud et al. 2024). The comments and the irritations in my journal that once seemed minor took on a new significance when revisited by providing both discomfort and a sense of possibility.

Several weeks after a session with CP1, I returned to a journal entry I had written at the time and experienced it differently. What I had described then as “a steady session with little movement” now reads in a new light. Looking back, I could see that the steadiness was not a lack of progress but the work itself it was creating enough containment for CP1 to set down some of what he carried. The drawing he produced, with arms stretched to hold both sides and a jagged split across his body, gave form to what words alone had struggled to express. I recognised that what I had taken as stillness was in fact the necessary space CP1 needed to see his own patterns more clearly.

These moments indicated a transition from writing about my research to writing within it. I was documenting the field and participating in it. Although I was acknowledging my position, the significance of this stance became increasingly clear as my inquiry progressed. This recognition unfolded in layers, reinforcing that I was a subject embedded in the very system I was studying.

6.4.3 The parallel container and the act of bearing witness

As this insight deepened, I begin to see that my thesis itself is functioning as a parallel container. It is the medium that holds my research and, in turn, holds me, transforming my practice. Just as I offer my leaders a place to think out loud, test language and integrate unprocessed emotion, this writing process is doing the same for me.

I now also realise that I am reflecting and I am bearing witness to myself. As White (2011) suggests, bearing witness is a relational act, an active engagement with experience that creates the conditions for transformation. I am witnessing who I am and who I am becoming. I see how the ‘Other’ has been with me all along. I revisit my transcripts and journal notes for the way they reveal my own posture, my silence and my work of containment, the holding and transforming of raw experience into something that can be thought about. I realise these are qualities forming the stance I bring to my work.

6.4.4 Emotional labour

As I deepen my awareness of how I have been enacting this stance I also have felt its cost. Containing others’ anxiety, staying steady in the face of urgency and resisting the pressure to provide answers requires energy. It is a form of emotional labour that is invisible and often unrecognised (Hochschild 2003). The energy it takes to stay calm, to not mirror the reactivity of those around me and to carry projections without losing myself can be substantial.

Although I rarely feel marginalised when being ‘Othered’, I do feel the cumulative weight of this way of being, the anxiety it can stir in others and the delay before it is recognised for what it offers. At times, this unease seems to function as a kind of defence, allowing others to divert from the discomfort of learning or change. The feedback I have received over time from colleagues and peers, such as “You’re calm but I’m not sure if you care” or “You are helpful but you are annoying”, reflects this tension. The very posture that makes transformation possible is also what, at times, leaves me feeling misread in ways that protect others from the discomfort of change.

I begin to ask myself how I can sustain this stance without depleting myself and about the practices that could help me resource the emotional labour I require. The answers are not simple but they begin to emerge. Journalling. Movement. Peer debriefing. Space. Stillness. Gardening. These practices are my methods of my methodology. If I am to hold the ‘Other’ with clarity I must also hold myself with clarity.

6.4.5 Naming the stance as alignment

Naming the ‘Other’ now feels like an act of alignment. It allows me to recognise that I have been coaching in this way for some time. What has changed is my willingness to claim it, to structure my practice around it, to articulate it to leaders and to test it with rigour. My thesis becomes the bridge. It holds me long enough for language to emerge, for meaning to consolidate and for practice to become deliberate.

This represents both a methodological shift and a personal one. I am preparing to hold the stance with intention. It had begun with awareness and with allowing my insight to take shape in the service of others and in the service of self. I reflect deeply on what I see and stay with it. Through my process I come to understand more deeply how my thesis itself is my parallel container and within it I am creating the space where I am being coached into a new version of myself.

6.5 Personal transformation

As I hold the reflections emerging from the earlier chapters, I notice a subtle but powerful shift. What began as curiosity about a coaching phenomenon has become an exploration of my own identity. I am no longer theorising about the insight-to-action gap from a distance. I see how it lives in me, how I too hold insights longer than I sometimes realise, and how I hesitate to act when what I know has not yet settled into something I can trust.

I have become aware that I have been coaching from a specific stance all along, one that now has a name. Naming the ‘Other’ is a methodological threshold. It converts an implicit habit into a deliberate practice with testable implications for my coaching. I have been enacting a practice shaped by relational history, professional experience, behavioural preferences and a way of seeing and holding systems. What once felt intuitive now begins to take shape as deliberate. The shift from unconscious pattern to conscious posture feels incredibly meaningful.

I asked myself why I did not see it sooner. I have inhabited the ‘Other’ in my personal relationships, in organisational life and in moments where containment and distance were needed more than urgency or action. I have even named it in the moment with leaders. Yet I had not recognised it as the core of my coaching identity. There was a disconnection between what I was doing and how I made sense what I was doing.

This gap between action and awareness, between implicit practice and explicit stance, sits at the heart of my research. By naming the stance I mark the point at which I move from bearing witness to others to bearing witness to myself, and in doing so begin to bridge my own insight-to-action gap just as I seek to support that shift in the leaders I coach.

6.5.1 Naming the ‘Other’

Naming the ‘Other’ as my coaching stance brings coherence to a set of behaviours and values that have long shaped my work unconsciously. I now see that my tendency to observe rather than immediately intervening, to hold silence as a space for thinking, and to witness emotion with steadiness are expressions of a stance that stays close creates space and is connected and grounded.

In the coaching engagements explored in Phase 1 of my research (Chapter 4), looking back I can now notice how when leaders respond positively to this stance. CP1 says he appreciates that I “don’t try to fix it.” CP2 tells me that the work we do “doesn’t feel like coaching but it’s more helpful than anything else.” CP3 reflects that my calmness helps him “stay in the hard parts without checking out.” These reflections help me see that what I offer is a form of presence, a quality of attention that can allow something new to emerge.

That presence is the stance of bearing witness. As White (2011) describes, that bearing witness is an active and deeply ethical way of being with another, staying present to what unfolds with openness and care. In naming my stance now, I see that I have been bearing witness to others and, through my research process, also to myself. That witnessing has become a source of transformation, deepening my understanding of what it means to accompany, to stay alongside, and to hold space for growth.

At the same time, I now understand why this stance can be challenging for others to receive. Some leaders seek urgency and direction, hoping for answers that move things forward, while my way of working appears slower and not driven by visible urgency. It creates room for what lies beneath the surface to be noticed and explored. In that space when emotion can find voice reflection can becomes its own form of movement.

Naming the ‘Other’ becomes an act of self-definition, a way of gathering the many threads of how I have learned to be with others. It releases me from the expectation to emulate coaching models that sit outside my way of being, and affirms the integrity of working from who I am. It also brings a new responsibility to name this stance clearly, to hold it with care and intention, and to enter relationships in ways that honour both its possibilities and its demands.

6.6 Integrative framework

Having articulated the lived and reflexive development of the ‘Other’ stance in sections 6.4-6.5, this section synthesises the three theoretical lenses that inform it: systems psychodynamics (SP), neuroscience (NS), and action methodologies (AM). (SP) focuses on the unconscious emotional and relational processes that shape behaviour and highlights the importance of containment and the coach’s use of self. (NS) complements this by explaining the physiological and neural mechanisms that underlie emotional regulation and co-regulation, showing how safety, stress and reflective capacity are connected. (AM) adds the behavioural dimension, demonstrating how insight becomes transformation through cycles of experimentation and reflection. Together, these perspectives create a continuous process. (SP) helps illuminate the hidden emotional field, (NS) explains how regulation supports reflective thought, and (AM) translates reflection into meaningful behavioural change. This integrated framework positions the coach as both container and catalyst, able to hold complexity while enabling movement, and provides the conceptual foundation for the practices described later in this chapter.

6.6.1 Systems psychodynamics

Through my exploration of (SP), I have come to understand that unconscious emotional dynamics play a significant role in shaping behaviour, particularly in coaching and organisational settings. One of the most impactful concepts in (SP) for me is containment, which is based on Bion’s (1962) container-contained relationship. This dynamic describes how one person holds and processes another’s emotional content. In coaching, containment involves creating a space where emotional tension can be held allowing it to metabolise without the immediate pressure to resolve it. This approach allows the leader to explore and process their feelings at their own pace, which fosters deeper insight over time.

This concept resonates with the ‘Other’ stance I adopt in coaching. By maintaining a slight distance from the emotional intensity in the room, I create a reflective space that encourages the leader to engage with their own unconscious dynamics. Instead of rushing in to intervene, I hold space for the leader to process their emotions, which often reveals previously unconscious patterns, such as projections or defence mechanisms, that are influencing their behaviour.

In practice, this often shows up when leaders externalise their frustrations or blame others, as I observed in the case of CP2. During our session, CP2 exhibited projection by attributing their challenges to colleagues and systemic dysfunction. Rather than immediately providing a solution, I allowed the emotional tension to remain in the space. By asking reflective questions, such as, “What do you think might be the underlying fear or belief driving this projection?” I encouraged CP2 to explore the origins of their reaction and recognise how their defensiveness was hindering their progress.

Importantly, I also paid close attention to how these projections were directed toward me as the coach. At times, I sensed that CP2 was unconsciously positioning me as part of the problem, perhaps as someone who might judge them, disappoint them or pressure them to act. Rather than reacting defensively or over identifying with these roles, I used them as valuable data. Noticing my own countertransference, for example, subtle feelings of being blamed or the impulse to over function, helped me to reflect on how I was being located within their internal narrative. I brought this awareness into the coaching dialogue with gentle curiosity, saying, for example, “I’m noticing a sense that you might be experiencing me as critical or aligned with those pressures, could we pause and explore what’s happening between us here?”

By naming the dynamic without blame, I helped CP2 begin to see the relational pattern in action. This supported a shift from projection to reflection, enabling them to consider how similar dynamics might be unfolding in their leadership context. The containment involved metabolising the emotional charge, holding the projection without acting it out and offering it back in a form the leader could work with. This aligns with traditions that emphasise the coach’s ‘use of self’ as instrument (Bachkirova 2016), situating the ‘Other’ stance within reflective practitioner lineages.

In holding this space, I was engaging in a relational dynamic that facilitated insight. The leader was able to connect their defensive behaviour to previously unconscious patterns that had been playing out in both the coaching space and their work environment. This reflects a key feature of (SP), the parallel process, where unconscious relational patterns in coaching mirror broader systemic issues (Sarnat 2019).

The real benefit of this approach lies in the depth of insight that emerges when emotional tension is held long enough for unconscious patterns to surface. As Bion (1962) suggests, without containment, emotional experiences remain unprocessed and can lead to repressed or repeated behaviours. By resisting the urge to intervene too quickly, I allow leaders to sit with discomfort long enough to see what lies beneath it, which can open the way to deeper self-awareness and, at times, more sustainable transformation. The capacity to hold tension has both psychodynamic and neurobiological dimensions, opening into questions of how stress, regulation, and habit formation shape the durability of new insights.

6.6.2 Neuroscience

The limbic system, including the amygdala and hippocampus, plays a critical role in regulating emotional responses under stress. When the amygdala is triggered by perceived threats, it can hijack rational thinking, overriding the prefrontal cortex and triggering ‘fight or flight’ responses (LeDoux 1996; LeDoux et al. 2014). Research using functional neuroimaging shows that the prefrontal cortex (PFC) is involved in both emotion induction and regulation (Ochsner et al. 2002). Cognitive reappraisal, reinterpreting negative stimuli, reduces amygdala activation and increases PFC activation during emotion regulation.

Under stress, the PFC is highly sensitive. Mild stress can cause rapid loss of prefrontal cognitive abilities, while prolonged stress triggers structural changes in PFC dendrites (Arnsten 2009). When stress activates the amygdala and catecholamine pathways, attention shifts toward bottom-up processing, impairing rational thinking and strengthening habitual responses. This neurobiological understanding supports the need for co-regulation in coaching.

Co-regulation is the process by which one person’s presence helps downregulate another’s stress response, enabling them to regain emotional balance and re-enter a reflective mindset. A narrative review of emotional regulation interventions highlights that caregivers’ capacity to process emotional content and use adaptive strategies is critical for facilitating co-regulation and the development of emotional regulation skills (Easdale-Cheele et al. 2024). In coaching, this means that my steadiness can help leaders shift from emotional reactivity to reflection.

In my coaching practice, I know that co-regulation is an essential part of the work I do. I deliberately take up a role that supports this by creating a space where emotional intensity can be held and metabolised. By maintaining a slight distance, it seems to create a reflective environment. I experience this in how the leader engages their prefrontal cortex, the area of the brain responsible for higher level decision making and reflection, rather than being overwhelmed by stress responses.

When working with CP3 during particularly tense moments, I noticed when his emotional reactivity began to escalate. I resisted matching his emotional energy, instead, I maintained steadiness and slight detachment. While this initially caused tension, the tension dropped, and a space emerged where he was able to reflect on his thoughts without the added pressure of urgency or emotional overwhelm. This reflective pause allowed him to shift from emotional reactivity to more thoughtful engagement with the situation, creating the space for deeper insights.

I recognise that this ability to co-regulate is fundamental for helping the leader make shifts in their thinking and behaviour. It has always been something I am mindful about in the dynamic in noticing what is emerging. As I mentioned earlier, when I am in a coaching session time seems to stand still and it is almost as if nothing exists other than the moment we are in. I use my own emotional steadiness as a tool to help downregulate any heightened stress responses in the leader. By holding the space in this way, I can help guide them from emotional reactivity to a more reflective state. It is important to do this without rushing them, allowing the leader to find their rhythm and pace in their emotional processing.

While creating space for reflection is essential, as I have been exploring, it is not sufficient on its own to drive lasting change. Neuroplasticity, the brain’s ability to form new neural connections, requires repeated behavioural practice, not just insight. Insight alone does not rewire the brain; it is the integration of insight into real world actions that leads to transformation because neural change requires behavioural practice. (AM) show how reflection and experimentation work together to embed insight through cycles of practice.

In my coaching, I must find a balance between holding space for reflection and encouraging action. After creating a space for insight, I need to help leaders turn that insight into practical experimentation. This means encouraging them to test their newfound understanding in real world contexts, ensuring that learning is not just theoretical but grounded in lived experience. This balance is crucial to help the leader move from awareness to change. I need to be intentional of facilitating both reflection and action, ensuring that one doesn’t stall the other.

I also know that somatic cues, both from the leader and from myself, are powerful indicators of emotional states. Tension, discomfort or openness in the leaders body language can signal whether they are in a reflective or reactive state. When I observe these cues, I can gauge how the leader is engaging with their emotions and whether they are open to further exploration.

Similarly, I monitor my own body language and emotional state. I use my posture, breath and subtle movements to reinforce a sense of calm and stability. This creates a non-verbal environment that encourages the leader to feel safe and supported in exploring challenging or uncomfortable topics. By being mindful of the bodily responses that arise in both of us, I can regulate the emotional tone of the session and make it easier for the leader to remain grounded and engaged in the reflective process.

By intentionally applying the principles of emotional regulation and co-regulation, I facilitate a coaching environment that is grounded in reflective practice and action. I use my presence and somatic awareness to help guide the leader from emotional reactivity to insightful reflection and then support them in translating that insight into action. This approach is central to helping leaders move from awareness to sustained change.

6.6.3 Action methodologies

(AM) are grounded in theories such as Lewin’s (1946) plan, act, observe and reflect cycle, Kolb’s (1984) experiential learning model and Argyris’s (1976) double loop learning. These frameworks emphasise the importance of pairing reflection with action for true learning to occur. Lewin’s cycle outlines an iterative process of planning, acting, observing outcomes and reflecting on those outcomes to guide future action. Kolb’s experiential learning model builds on this by framing learning as a continuous cycle where direct experience is followed by reflective observation, abstract conceptualisation and active experimentation (Kolb 1984). Further work in leadership development confirms this pattern. For example, integrating action learning with Experiential Learning has been shown to facilitate translating insights into practice in professional and leadership contexts (Yeo & Marquardt 2015; Volz-Peacock et al. 2016). Argyris’s (1976) double loop learning adds depth by suggesting that effective learning requires not just correcting errors within a framework (single loop learning) but also questioning the underlying assumptions that guide behaviour.

A critical principle of (AM) is behavioural rehearsal and small experiments. This concept asserts that reflection alone is insufficient for change; it must be coupled with tangible, real world experimentation. By engaging in small, safe to fail experiments, individuals can translate abstract insights into practical actions. This shift from knowing to doing is essential for leaders and leaders who seek to embed their insights into sustained, effective change.

In my coaching practice, I see the challenge of moving from reflection to action. Reflection can be immensely powerful; however, without the right kind of structured experimentation, insights can remain theoretical and not lead to change. I know from experience that creating space for insight is only part of the equation. I must also provide opportunities for the leader to test their new insights through small experiments, applying what they have learned in their working environment.

The ‘Other’ stance I adopt is not just about holding space for reflection; it is about creating space for action as well. While I often encourage the leader to sit with discomfort and reflection, I also challenge them to translate that reflection into actionable steps. This requires me to introduce moments where the leader can test their insights in a real situation, turning abstract thinking into applied behaviour. I know that doing so is key to ensuring that their new understanding leads to lasting change, rather than staying confined to the theoretical domain.

For example, in my work in Phase 1 of my research (Chapter 4) with CP2 and CP3, there were many rich discussions where insights were gained but at times, there was a lack of follow through. While the leaders would leave sessions with clarity and insight, they struggled to turn those insights into specific steps. I learned that simply holding space for reflection was not enough. I needed to step in and guide them to identify practical next moves outside of the coaching session.

This realisation led me to intentionally integrate more structured, action-based steps in my coaching process. After each session, I now encourage leaders to experiment with new behaviours in their work environments. For example, in CP2’s case, we explored the need for more direct communication with their people leader. Rather than just talking about the issue, I invited them to try directness in a real situation, providing a clear action step that could lead to change. I then asked them to return to the next session and reflect on the outcome, which helps bridge the gap between insight and action.

I see that these three perspectives, (SP)’s focus on unconscious dynamics, (NS)’s account of stress and neuroplasticity, and (AM)’s emphasis on structured experimentation, provide a richer toolkit than any one approach alone. Through this integrated lens, I see how the ‘Other’ stance can both contain emotional complexity and actively support leaders in translating awareness into meaningful action.

One key realisation that guides my approach is the importance of ensuring that insights do not remain dormant. While insight is crucial, it is action that embeds these new understandings and leads to sustained change. Neuroplasticity, the brain’s ability to form new neural connections, requires repeated action, not just reflection, to rewire the brain. In my coaching, I intentionally focus on translating insights into doable steps, as I know that behaviour change occurs only when these new patterns are rehearsed in real life.

Along with the psychodynamic and behavioural elements of this process, I also pay close attention to somatic cues in myself and the leader. I know that the body communicates critical information that can inform the coaching process. Signs of tension, discomfort or openness in the leaders body language indicate where they may be resisting action or feeling uncertain. I am attuned to these cues and use them to guide the pacing of the coaching process, deciding when to encourage further reflection and when to prompt action.

When CP2 showed physical signs of hesitation and a tense posture, I paused and asked them about what was happening for them in that moment. By addressing these somatic responses, I was able to encourage CP2 to explore why they might be resisting action, which allowed for a deeper conversation about what narrative was holding action back and how it could be reframed.

The ‘Other’ stance is not just about reflection but about ensuring that reflection leads to action. I now deliberately integrate micro-experiments into my coaching process, providing leaders with specific practices they can take to apply their insights in real world scenarios. This not only helps them bridge theory to practice it also creates a direct link between coaching and the leaders work environment. This approach is not about fixing problems immediately it is about empowering leaders to actively engage in transforming their behaviours, one small experiment at a time.

6.7 Preparing to experiment with the stance

Having recognised the ‘Other’ as my coaching stance, I transitioned from intuitive, unconscious competence toward a more deliberate and enactable form of practice. Research on critical reflexivity in professional development highlights that systematically questioning one’s assumptions and positionality enhances practice and leads to greater self-awareness (Cunliffe 2003; Finlay 2002). The real test of this shift was applying it consistently and with intention, weaving together insights from (SP) (awareness of unconscious dynamics), (NS) (understanding of co-regulation and stress responses), and (AM) (experimentation) into a coherent approach.

This change in awareness enabled me to approach coaching with clearer intention. The stance was no longer a background trait that emerged only when the relational field evoked it. It became a lens through which I designed sessions, contracted with leaders, and evaluated my own reactions. Rather than remaining implicit, the stance became an active organising principle that informed each session.

As I prepared for Phase 4 of my research, working with CP4, CP5 and CP6 (Chapter 7), I consciously enacted the ‘Other’ stance within the structured six-session Phase 4 coaching format that integrates (SP), (NS) and (AM) lenses (see Chapter 3.4). My goal was to participate reflexively in the coaching relationship, attending to how leaders and I together experienced the integration of the ‘Other’ stance and its practices in real-world contexts. Recent meta-analyses highlight that executive coaching yields its most robust effects on behavioural and cognitive behavioural outcomes (Nicolau et al. 2023) and highlight the importance of goal planning and feedback in converting insight into action (Cannon-Bowers et al. 2023). These findings reinforce my belief that reflection and experimentation must go hand in hand.

Bringing (SP), (NS) and (AM) together, I aimed to bridge the very gap that sparked my research, the distance between knowing and doing. (SP) drew my attention to unconscious dynamics and the quality of the relational field. (NS) reminded me that co-regulation and stress reduction are preconditions for reflective thought (Coan et al. 2006; Koole & Tschacher 2016; Magni et al. 2025). (AM) encouraged me to design small, safe experiments that translate insight into practice (James & Stacey-Emile 2019). In the next section, I outline the seven practices that operationalise the ‘Other’ stance through these three lenses. Together they form a framework for helping me work more intentionally with the movement from awareness toward action in coaching practice.

As outlined in Chapter 3.4 (Table 3.9), Phase 4 followed a six session structure that operationalised this stance in practice. This included initial contracting, PRISM debrief, iterative relational sessions, and a final integration conversation, each shaped by real time responsiveness and micro- experimentation. Chapter 7 presents the Phase 4 findings, showing how the stance and practices were enacted across this sequence and what effects were observed.

6.7.1 Overview of the seven coaching practices

The following seven practices outline how I conceptualise and intend to operationalise the ‘Other’ stance in my coaching. They are presented as coach-facing orientations that describe the intentions, choices and processes that guide my practice, rather than as prescriptive techniques or outcomes. Each draws on insights from (SP), (NS) and (AM), illustrating how these perspectives inform the design of the stance. References to leaders within the descriptions serve to locate the stance within its applied context. The practices are articulated to clarify how the stance is proposed to function in use, with their practical application explored in the next chapter. These seven practices translate the conceptual integration of (SP), (NS) and (AM) into the practical mechanisms through which the stance was examined in Phase 4.

6.7.1.1 Practice No 1. 'Relational Field Awareness and Containment'

'Relational Field Awareness and Containment' focuses on attuning to the emotional atmosphere within the coaching space and holding it with care. Drawing on (SP), the coach adopts a containing presence that allows leaders to explore complex feelings without rushing to fix them. (NS) and process research show that nonverbal synchrony between coach and leader fosters trust, alliance, and reflective capacity (Erdos & Ramseyer 2021). (AM) reinforces the value of reflective pauses. By slowing down and creating space for insight before action, the coach enables the leader to process emotions and move toward deeper learning. Meta-analytic studies of workplace coaching find that the quality of the coaching alliance is a critical predictor of behavioural change and that supportive relationships combined with goal focused feedback enhance coaching outcomes (Grabmann et al. 2020; Nicolau et al. 2023; Cannon-Bowers et al. 2023).

6.7.1.2 Practice No 2. ‘Reflexive Use of Self’

‘Reflexive Use of Self’ draws from practitioner reflexivity traditions and systems psychodynamic practice, where the coach’s felt experience (including countertransference) is treated as relational data rather than personal noise (Prasko et al. 2022). ‘Reflexive Use of Self’ requires the coach to monitor their own emotional and somatic responses and treat them as data about the relational dynamic (Prasko et al. 2022). In (SP) terms, the coach’s feelings of tension, curiosity or relief may mirror unconscious processes in the leader or the wider system. Research on critical reflexivity emphasises that systematically questioning one’s assumptions and positionality enhances professional practice (Cunliffe 2003; Finlay 2002). Large scale coaching studies further show that the quality of the coaching alliance and perceived relationship, rather than simple personality match, are the strongest predictors of coaching outcomes (de Haan et al. 2013; de Haan et al. 2016). Research on interpersonal synchrony also reminds us to attend to embodied cues such as breath, posture or affective resonance, which can signal activation in the relational field and guide the coach’s interventions (Erdos & Ramseyer 2021). (AM) encourages the coach to cycle through planning, acting, observing and reflecting in order to understand how their stance shapes the coaching process.

6.7.1.3 Practice No 3. ‘Narrative Attunement’

‘Narrative Attunement’ is about listening for recurring themes, metaphors and conflicts in the leader’s narrative that reveal underlying beliefs and systemic patterns. It draws on narrative coaching and narrative identity research, which show how the stories leaders live by shape meaning, agency and behaviour, and how re-authoring can open new action possibilities (Adler 2012; Swart 2016). From an (SP) perspective, questioning these narratives helps leaders re-author their narratives and surface unexamined assumptions. Foundational work on narrative identity highlights that life stories which integrate past and future into a coherent whole support meaning, agency and wellbeing, while fragmented or incoherent narratives are associated with poorer adjustment (Adler et al. 2016; McAdams 2001).

More recent reviews extend this insight, showing that narrative disruption, such as in addictive disorders, is often linked with diminished self-efficacy and passivity (Deriu et al. 2024). (NS) reminds us that storytelling engages memory and emotion. Reframing a narrative engages neuroplastic processes like cognitive reappraisal, which neuroimaging meta-analyses show strengthens regulatory prefrontal pathways while reducing the dominance of older emotional responses (Buhle et al. 2014). In (AM), these new narratives are tested through small behavioural experiments so that leaders can experience themselves differently.

6.7.1.4 Practice No 4. ‘Somatic and Co-Regulation’

‘Somatic and Co-Regulation’ gives attention to the body as a source of information. (SP) explains that bodily sensations are often indicators of unconscious processes. Noticing a tight chest or relaxed shoulders, for example, can indicate where tension or ease lies in the system. Research shows that face to face interactions and synchrony in movement, physiology and affect can foster trust, empathy and co-regulation (Koole & Tschacher 2016; Erdos & Ramseyer 2021). Classic (NS) also demonstrates that supportive presence can down regulate neural threat responses (Coan et al. 2006). Coaches who use breath regulation, grounded posture and mindful presence help leaders down regulate stress and regain access to reflective thinking. (AM) integrates somatic awareness into action reflection cycles, encouraging leaders to notice how new behaviours feel in the body and using that data to inform subsequent actions.

6.7.1.5 Practice No 5. ‘Systemic Orientation’

‘Systemic Orientation’ is about encouraging leaders to view their challenges within the broader organisational context. Instead of attributing issues solely to their personal deficiencies, the coach helps the leader see how culture, power structures and team dynamics shape behaviour. (SP) suggests that patterns such as projection or scapegoating often reflect systemic anxieties. Leadership research argues that adaptive and distributed approaches are required to address complex problems, emphasising interdependencies and systemic awareness (Uhl-Bien & Arena 2017; Senge 2006). (NS) adds that stress and safety are influenced by environmental factors, workload, hierarchy and organisational culture, and that co-regulation can buffer systemic pressures. (AM) uses tools such as stakeholder mapping and system diagrams to design experiments that address issues at multiple levels.

6.7.1.6 Practice No 6. ‘‘Intentional Disruption’’

‘Intentional Disruption’ is about challenging habitual defences and assumptions that keep leaders from creating change. (SP) suggests that surfacing contradictions can provoke deeper reflection and help leaders recognise how they are protecting themselves from discomfort. (NS) informs us that novelty stimulates neural plasticity and that it can disrupt automatic responses. (AM) frames these disruptions as small, observable experiments, with the coach posing challenging questions or inviting the leader to test new mindsets and behaviours and then observing what happens. Research on adaptive leadership stresses the need to reject outdated mental models and embrace adaptive learning (Heifetz et al. 2009; Uhl-Bien & Arena 2017). Meta-analytic evidence shows that coaching interventions with explicit goal planning and feedback produce stronger cognitive behavioural outcomes (Cannon-Bowers et al. 2023; Nicolau et al. 2023).

6.7.1.7 Practice No 7. ‘Iterative Experimentation’

‘Iterative Experimentation’ is about acknowledging that insight alone rarely alters entrenched patterns and behavioural testing is necessary to embed new ways of working. (SP) advises that defensive routines must be worked through, not just understood. (NS) explains that repeated practice strengthens neural connections, whereas lack of practice leads to decline. (AM) operationalises this through small, ‘safe-to-fail’ experiments, with the coach and leader co-designing actions, carrying them out and then reflecting on what happened before deciding the next step. Action learning research shows that questioning, observation and practice help managers implement change and enhance teamwork (Raelin 1997; James & Stacey-Emile 2019), and recent meta-analyses demonstrate that coaching has moderate positive effects on behavioural outcomes and that planning and feedback are key mechanisms (Cannon-Bowers et al. 2023; Nicolau et al. 2023). These findings highlight the value of micro-experiments and iterative practice in embedding new behaviours. In this chapter, these practices are articulated to clarify the stance. Their application and effects will be examined in the next phase of my research.

Table 6.1 Integration of systems psychodynamics, neuroscience and action methodologies across the seven coaching practices and their supporting empirical evidence.

6.8 Tensions

As I prepare to consciously work with the ‘Other’ stance in the next phase of my research, I can now recognise the tensions that have long been part of inhabiting it unconsciously. These tensions are not new and they have been present in my practice, often unnamed, shaping how I work and how I am experienced. What is different now is my capacity to see and hold them with greater awareness as I ready myself to enact the stance more deliberately. They reflect the developmental stretch of bringing what has been intuitive into conscious embodiment. Each tension marks a live dynamic of authorisation, a point where awareness meets choice. They remind me that coaching, particularly when working systemically, emotionally and experientially, is not a clean or linear process. It is relational and human, and humans are messy.

This section names some of the key tensions I am now holding in view as I prepare to consciously test the ‘Other’ stance in practice during the next research phase. They arise from what I have lived, what I have heard in the empirical data and what I am beginning to integrate from the insights across Chapters 1 to 5. These tensions are not problems to solve, they are invitations to awareness and readiness as I move toward deliberate enactment, part of the ongoing work of authorising both self and stance in role. Bringing these tensions into awareness marks the final stage of preparation before consciously enacting the stance in the coaching practice explored in Chapter 7.

6.8.1 Being ‘Othered’ vs choosing the ‘Other’

I have spent much of my life being positioned as the ‘Other’ as the outsider or the observer. At times this positioning has been projected onto me, and at other times I have leaned into it unconsciously. To be ‘Othered’ in this way is to carry a kind of projection that defines difference before it is understood. It can create distance even as it invites reflection.

What feels different now is that I am beginning to recognise this stance as something I can inhabit with awareness and purpose. I am learning to name it as a professional posture that carries both agency and responsibility, and to sense how stepping back can create space for seeing more clearly and for holding what others may not yet be ready to name.

Even as I come to understand it more fully, this stance is still taking form. I am in the process of authorising both myself and the stance within the role I hold. It is one thing to live this position 126 intuitively and another to bring it forward consciously, to stand in it with legitimacy. That movement toward authorisation feels both grounding and exposing, as if what has always been present is now being seen in full light.

At times this way of working is difficult for others to interpret. In my coaching engagements, and particularly in organisational contexts, my stance is sometimes read as passivity, my reflective approach as disengagement. In one engagement (CP2), a leader questioned whether I “truly understood the urgency” of their role. She needed a solution quickly and my containment was unsettling because it interrupted her rhythm.

I am coming to see that part of working from this stance involves holding these projections as part of the process. From a (SP) perspective, this is expected. The one who notices often becomes the one who is noticed, sometimes in uncomfortable ways. The person who observes from the edge can easily become the focus of unease or projection. I am learning that this discomfort is integral to the coaching relationship and can serve as a source of understanding and connection. The task is to hold the stance with enough clarity and compassion that it becomes an intentional choice, consciously authorised in role and grounded in awareness rather than reaction.

6.8.2 Containment vs. inertia

The capacity to hold complexity can, if not enlivened, become stillness. CP3’s feedback that insight did not always become direction brought this into sharper awareness. Unlike CP2’s urgency about pace, CP3’s reflections focused on what happens after understanding, on how awareness is translated into movement. His question, “What next?”, illuminated the edge between containment that enables thinking and containment that begins to suspend action. It drew attention to the moment when thoughtful holding needs to give way to engagement. This connects with Argyris’s (1976) writing on defensive routines, where individuals and systems can sustain reflection as a way of avoiding the disturbance that change invites.

When I view it through this lens, containment becomes a transitional space where meaning is digested and new movement can take shape. Working with this tension involves staying close to that edge, sensing when reflection has matured enough to generate action. Holding complexity, then, is about allowing new patterns of thought and behaviour to emerge from stillness. In this way, the stance of the ‘Other’ begins to move beyond awareness, becoming a lived process that links insight with movement.

6.8.3 Empathy vs. distance

A further tension arises in the space between empathy and distance. Relational attunement has long shaped my way of working. I listen for what is unspoken and sense when something shifts within the room. Empathy, however, is received through the lens of another’s expectations. In one engagement, a leader said, “You’re incredibly present but sometimes I wonder if you care.” The comment revealed how the expression of empathy is shaped by desire and perception. It reflected a wish for reassurance and an invitation to meet an expected version of care. In that moment, the question turned toward what the exchange itself was communicating and what emotional need was emerging in the space between us.

From a neurobiological perspective, this interplay is also understood as a form of mutual regulation. People respond to one another’s cues through subtle physiological and emotional signals that shape connection before words are exchanged. A composed presence can help steady this field of experience and create the conditions for thinking, yet too little visible resonance may leave the other uncertain of connection.

Through this lens, empathy becomes an active process of inquiry within the relationship rather than an emotional signal. Working with this tension involves paying attention to how care and perspective circulate within the relationship and how both can be held in a way that supports meaning to emerge.

The stance of the ‘Other’ lives within this balance, attuned while maintaining perspective, connected while preserving thoughtfulness. Empathy, held in this way, becomes part of the wider reflective field, an invitation to explore what is taking shape in the space we share.

6.8.4 Reflexivity vs. urgency

Another tension emerges between reflexivity and urgency. Many of the systems I work within move quickly and place high value on action. Leaders want clarity and visible progress. Coaching invites a slower and more reflective rhythm that allows awareness to develop in the moment. This shift in tempo can create friction by bringing together two orientations, the organisational drive for pace and the reflexive attention that transformation requires.

Reflexivity is a way of staying in relationship with experience as it unfolds. Slowing down allows the coach and the leader to think together and to notice patterns that movement alone may not reveal. When reflexivity is connected to movement, it becomes a generative process that supports change. CP3’s reflections illustrated this process. He valued the space to think and also recognised moments of uncertainty about what to do next. His feedback brought into focus how awareness gains significance when it begins to shape what happens next.

Working with this tension involves sensing when inquiry has reached its point of readiness and when movement is needed to translate awareness into action. Authorising the ‘Other’ stance means holding this rhythm consciously so that insight and experimentation remain intertwined. Argyris and Schön’s work on double loop learning reminds me that learning deepens through cycles of action and reflection, not through separation between them. Holding this rhythm allows reflexivity to generate movement and urgency to become inquiry.

Through this lens, reflexivity becomes an active stance, a way of engaging with complexity while remaining connected to direction. The ‘Other’ stance lives in this rhythm, present enough to see what is unfolding and deliberate enough to support what comes next.

6.9 Preparing to translate insights into action

As this chapter closes, I notice the transition from reflection to readiness. What began as a practice- led exploration of my coaching has become the articulation of a stance I can now name with confidence, the ‘Other’. This stance has been shaped by my early experiences of standing at the edge, by years of being trusted with others’ stories, and by the ways leaders and colleagues have come to experience my presence. It allows me to hold space, attend to emotion, and see the system in action while remaining steady within it.

This chapter has gathered and integrated the learning from earlier stages of my research, weaving together (SP), (NS) and (AM) into a coherent coaching stance. It has deepened my understanding of the coach’s role as one who notices, holds, and supports the disciplined practice of turning reflection into action. Through this work I have recognised that my way of being is not separate from the coaching process, it is part of it. This realisation marks a moment of alignment between who I am and how I work.

Chapter 7 presents the Phase 4 findings, showing how the ‘Other’ stance and its seven practices were enacted across the six-session sequence and what effects were observed. In that phase, I consciously took this stance forward with intention. I contracted for it, designedstance represents a significant moment in my professional identity, an intentional and grounded way of supporting transformation. Through the practice described in Chapter 7, I explore, test, and refine how this stance translates insight into action in the lived reality of coaching.

Chapter 7 Implementing the enhanced approach

7.0 Testing new practices

When insight needs to act, testing small changes in practice is essential because waiting to know more or waiting for the perfect conditions will never arrive. It is taking the first step, it may be a different kind of posture in a meeting, a boundary set with less apology, a conversation approached with greater presence or a decision made with greater integrity. It is in translating the insights generated into action that creates valuable data. It is what happens within these actions that reveals how learning behaves under pressure. What worked? What didn’t? What learning emerged?

As I build on my reflective inquiry of Chapter 6, this chapter examines how my insights were translated into action through my live experimentation. This was made possible by my reflective analysis of my coaching practice in Phase 1 (Chapter 4), through broadening my perspective with the leaders and coaches in Phases 2 and 3 (Chapter 5) and my exploration of my ‘self’ in Chapter 6 that led to my self-identification with my ‘Other’ stance.

As I intentionally engaged my ‘Other’ stance, throughout these sessions, I made subtle and deliberate adjustments. I did this by altering my presence and pacing conversations differently and by making conscious choices about when to name an observation and when to hold back. Each of these moments became an opportunity for me to learn in action and they revealed how my insights translated into real-time relational practice.

This chapter follows what I did, what it felt like to practise differently, and I felt it influenced the coaching alliance. I placed a stronger emphasis was on noticing what became possible and what remained challenging when my insights shaped my evolving coaching approach. As I engaged more critically with the data from the coaching sessions with CP4, CP5 and CP6 I noticed complementary patterns emerging in the leaders’ behaviour. Their growing agency and experimentation came together into what I now define as the ‘Self’ stance.

I have structured the analysis around the seven developmental practices of the ‘Self’ stance, each illustrating how the leaders’ ‘Self’ stance interconnected with my enactment of the ‘Other’ stance. It was ‘within’ the coaching dynamic, created through these practices, that I experienced the relational arc between reflection and action, which I now believe is the process that enables sustainable transformation

7.1 Introducing the ‘Self’ stance

As I moved into Phase 4 of my research, working with the final three leaders, CP4, CP5 and CP6, I noticed a new pattern of engagement taking shape within the coaching process. This chapter traces the emergence of what I came to call the ‘Self’ stance. I experienced the ‘Self’ stance evolving in relationship with the ‘Other’ stance which represents my integrated coaching approach drawing on systems psychodynamics (SP), neuroscience (NS), and action methodologies (AM).

As I was reviewing the transcripts, audio and video recordings, artefacts and journals from these sessions, a recurring pattern became evident. The leaders were not simply being recipients of my coaching; they were active participants in their own (and our) development. Together we were experimenting, reflecting, challenging and recalibrating new ways of engaging with our experiences. What emerged was a complimentary relational posture to my ‘Other’ stance that I am conceptualising as the ‘Self’ stance.

The ‘Self’ stance consists of seven core developmental practices:

Practice No. 1 ‘Sit with the Tension’: Remaining present with discomfort long enough to generate insight.

Practice No. 2 ‘Map the Loop’: Tracing recurring triggers, behaviours and outcomes to reveal the patterns that sustain current realities.

Practice No. 3 ‘Own and Rewrite Your Narrative’: Recognising and re-authoring personal narratives that limit agency or reinforce defensive patterns.

Practice No. 4 ‘Breathe Before You Act’: Regulating stress responses through embodied awareness to enhance reflective choice under pressure.

Practice No. 5 ‘Invite Real Challenge’: Welcoming feedback, difference and tension as developmental methods.

Practice No. 6 ‘Run Micro-Experiments’: Testing new behaviours through small, purposeful experiments that translate learning into daily work and life.

Practice No. 7 ‘Reflect, Refine, Repeat’: Embedding an ongoing cycle of reflection and adjustment that sustains growth beyond the coaching engagement.

In the sections that follow, I trace how these practices emerged through the developmental arcs of CP4, CP5 and CP6. At key moments, such as resisting CP4’s wish for reassurance or naming my own tension with CP6, I describe how I practised the ‘Other’ stance in real time through intentional choices. Although the primary narrative follows the leaders’ growth, I interweave short reflexive commentaries to illustrate how our relational work contributed to that growth. Each vignette is written from a mutual stance, showing how the leaders and I co-constructed insight in the moment. These commentaries demonstrate how sustainable change emerged through what we did together, not from what I did to them as coach.

This chapter also responds to the five research questions that guided the study:

RQ1: How does the coaching alliance shape whether leaders translate insight into action, and what specific interventions enhance behavioural transferability?

RQ2: What unconscious defence mechanisms sustain habitual leadership behaviours, and how can coaching surface and disrupt these patterns?

RQ3: How do neural habit formation, stress responses and cognitive constraints affect leadership transformation, and how can coaching engage these forces to foster sustainable change?

RQ4: What are the comparative benefits and limitations of integrating (SP), (NS) and (AM) in coaching practice?

RQ5: How does the researcher-coach’s positioning, both personal and theoretical, influence the effectiveness of interventions aimed at bridging the insight-to-action gap?

By the close of this chapter, the reciprocal nature of the ‘Self’ and ‘Other’ stances becomes clear. Chapter 8 will then build on this foundation through introducing the Relational Arc Framework, which helped me conceptualise the dynamic interplay between coach and leader as a matrix of mutual influence to co-created learning.

7.2 Introducing the three leaders

Before reviewing the seven practices that constitute the ‘Self’ stance, it is important to introduce the three leaders who participated with me. CP4, CP5 and CP6 each entered coaching from different sectors and roles and carrying distinct challenges shaped by personal histories and organisational environments. As we worked together, each came to inhabit the ‘Self’ stance in ways that reflected both their uniqueness and our shared capacity for change. Their PRISM Brain Mapping profiles offered a reflective layer to these narratives, helping to surface patterns of preference and adaptation that shaped their coaching work which sometimes revealed tensions that participants later came to articulate more consciously.

CP4 was a senior manager in a midsized organisation undergoing extensive restructuring. Her leadership identity had long been anchored in harmony, collaboration and relational stewardship. She openly described herself as a “people pleaser” and found it difficult to assert her values when they clashed with her colleagues perspectives. Beneath her professionalism and warmth sat a deeper pattern of conflict avoidance and a tightly held fear of disapproval.

CP4’s PRISM profile offered a noticeable window into this tension (see Figure 7.2.1 CP4 PRISM Brain Mapping underlying [red] and adapted [purple] maps). CP4’s underlying map revealed high preferences for relational (Blue), with engaging and creative behaviours that suggest a natural orientation toward connection, collaboration and optimism for the collective good. However, her adapted map told a different narrative. In response to how she was perceiving her current environment, she was adapting her behaviour by suppressing her relational energy and becoming more assertive, less patient and increasingly task driven. This behavioural shift mirrored what surfaced in coaching as a sense of emotional withdrawal, increased urgency and an emerging single mindedness that appeared to conflict with her natural style. These patterns laid the groundwork for later explorations of burnout, boundary setting and the reframing of her leadership identity. At times, I sensed her wanting me to reassure her or ease the tension, however, I consciously enacted a holding space without softening the challenge to support her in learning to stay with discomfort.

CP5, by contrast, was a co-founder of a fast-growing start-up. He was intellectually sharp and strategically minded, he initially presented as confident and articulate. However, beneath this professional ease was a tension between his natural preference for relational depth and the high visibility that his role demanded. As a co-founder, he was often required to be the face of the business. The investor pitches, public talks and client presentations placed him at the centre of attention, an experience he found anxiety provoking and exhausting. He later reflected, “I can perform it when I need to, but it takes everything out of me.” The constant need to appear magnetic and spontaneous left him depleted and, at times, emotionally distant from his team.

CP5’s PRISM Brain Mapping profile captured this contradiction (see Figure 7.2.2 CP5 PRISM Brain Mapping underlying [red] and adapted [purple] maps). His underlying map revealed strong preferences for relational and supportive behaviours (Blue), indicating a genuine wish to belong, contribute and maintain harmony within a team. In contrast, his adapted map showed a withdrawal of this relational energy and an amplification of Green (influencing) energy. Under pressure, he became more outwardly assertive and persuasive, performing confidence to maintain credibility while privately feeling uncertain and drained. This pattern reflected the impact of an early career experience of public failure that had left him acutely sensitive to error. His fear of “not getting it right” drove a tendency toward over-involvement and control to minimise any public shame.

CP6’s PRISM profile reinforced this experience (see Figure 7.2.3 CP6 PRISM Brain Mapping underlying (red) and adapted (purple) maps). Her underlying map revealed high preferences for Blue (relational), Red (driven) and Gold (analytical) behaviours suggesting she was naturally oriented toward service, achievement and clarity. However, her adapted profile showed a marked suppression of relational traits and a sharp amplification of assertiveness. This shift indicated a defensive posture when she was operating in survival mode, pushing harder while feeling increasingly disconnected. The stress evident in her PRISM map closely aligned with her drawing in our first session; an image of herself inside a leaking bucket, frantically plugging holes while others looked on. The sense of being over responsible, unseen and unsupported was present in both the maps and in our exploration.

These three leaders engaged in coaching at a time when their natural leadership styles were being compromised by systemic demands and internalised defences. While each brought different narratives to the room, they shared a willingness to reflect, test and evolve. In the sections that follow, I trace this emergence through the seven practices that defined their developmental arc.

7.3 Practice No.1 ‘Sit with the Tension’

The first practice of the ‘Self’ stance is the capacity to remain present with discomfort, what I call ‘Sit with the Tension’. This involves tolerating unpleasant emotions, relational tensions or internal uncertainties long enough to generate insight through experiencing rather than avoiding the tension. From a coaching perspective, this practice requires the leader to suspend habitual avoidance mechanisms and lean into the emotional intensity of difficult moments. (NS) research affirms that emotional labelling can reduce limbic system reactivity and support prefrontal regulation (Lieberman et al. 2007; Torre & Lieberman 2018), while (SP) invites attention to the defences and transferences that often underpin discomfort. Across the cases of CP4, CP5 and CP6, the development of this practice was a critical turning point in their leadership journeys.

For CP4, the discomfort she habitually avoided was interpersonal conflict. She often masked disagreement with humour or compliance, even when her ethical values were at stake. In an early session, CP4 described an incident where a colleague took credit for her work. She recounted the event with a forced laugh, yet her posture (rigid shoulders, avoiding eye contact) told a different story. I reflected back the incongruence I was experiencing, saying, “I notice you’re laughing, but your posture looks like this really bothered you.” Her eyes welled with tears, and she took a shaky breath before admitting, “I feel so uncomfortable, like I’m betraying people if I stand up for myself.” From a (SP) lens, this moment revealed a defensive strategy of humour masking unexpressed anger, a mechanism that helped her avoid the perceived relational risk of assertion. My practice was to engage ‘Relational Field Awareness and Containment’, holding the affective charge in the room. From a (NS) lens, naming the emotion appeared to engage her prefrontal cortex and restore reflective awareness. As the sessions progressed, she became more willing to stay with discomfort. This shift led to deeper insight into how her people-pleasing stemmed from a fear of being perceived as “the bad guy”, a core narrative we later reframed together.

CP4’s pattern of conflict avoidance and her tightly held fear of disapproval was an example of unconscious resistance (RQ2) that sustained her habitual behaviour. When I reflected back the incongruence between her laughter and visible tension, we explored whether it was a defensive pattern. In that shared noticing it created the first shift from insight to embodied awareness. Our mutual engagement, my containment and her willingness to stay present, co-produced the movement from avoidance toward assertion, demonstrating the early arc of relational change.

CP5 entered a later session flat and distant. He spoke briefly about a successful investor pitch but offered little detail. His body was still, his voice quiet, his usual fluency absent. The space between us felt lethargic. I noticed an awkward feeling rising in me, it was as though I did not know what to do. As I sat with this discomfort, I said, “I’m wondering why I’m feeling awkward in this moment. Part of me wants to engage you, and part of me wants to go do something else.” He looked up, surprised. “That’s kind of how I feel,” he said. “After these big weeks, I just shut off. I go quiet.” The silence that followed made me feel more alert and connected. I remained present, holding the space and letting it be. This was a deliberate use of ‘Relational Field Awareness and Containment’, naming my own embodied response and staying in the moment. After a pause, he said, “I think this must be what happens with my team.” What had begun as emotional absence became a moment of shared presence. It was the quality of the dynamic between us that made what had been felt named and in that process a new insight had been generated.

For CP6, the tension manifested as suppressed anger. As a CEO working under a powerful founder, she minimised frustration to maintain harmony. “I guess I just want everyone to like me,” she said. While describing yet another incident of bypassed authority, I noticed her hands clenched tightly. “I see your knuckles turning white. What’s happening?” I asked. This came from ‘Narrative Attunement’ and ‘Reflexive Use of Self’. Feeling my own bodily tension in response to her story, I used it as a prompt to explore what may be happening. After a pause, she said, “I’m angry, but I feel guilty about being angry.” From a (SP) lens, her guilt reflected an internalised belief that anger toward authority was illegitimate or dangerous. Somatically, the clenched fists were her body holding the emotion her words were suppressing. When we named these signs and stayed with them together, she began to legitimise anger as a boundary signal rather than a threat. She later described the moment as “oddly relieving”, marking what would be the beginning of a more assertive and self-authorised leadership stance. In that shared attention to embodied emotion, frustration was transformed into agency, illustrating how the relational field can turn tension into change and mutual learning.

Across all three cases, the practice of ‘Sitting with the Tension’ proved foundational. It enabled each leader to stay with emotional cues that had once triggered avoidance, defence or overcompensation. This capacity to remain with discomfort became a gateway to deeper insight into personal and systemic patterns. My use of the ‘Other’ stance in these moments, through containment, co- regulation and emotional mirroring, was not about directing insight but holding the space in which it could emerge. The repeated appearance of this practice across sessions suggests that creating psychodynamic conditions for staying with tension is crucial throughout the developmental process to support deeper insight and change.

7.4 Practice No.2 ‘Map the Loop’

The second practice of the ‘Self’ stance, ‘Map the Loop’, invites leaders to become researchers of their own habitual responses. This practice involves tracing the sequence of trigger, behaviour and outcome, and observing the patterns that keep recurring in their leadership. By approaching these loops with curiosity rather than judgement, leaders can unearth the hidden beliefs and emotional drivers that sustain them. From a (SP) perspective, mapping externalises unconscious habits so they can be seen and worked with, directly addressing RQ2. Action methodologies support this work by treating behaviours as testable hypotheses and cycles to observe, adjust and evolve. In practice, the safety of the coaching alliance enables this examination without shame or defensiveness, which speaks to RQ1 as a developmental container for pattern discovery. Through this lens, CP4, CP5 and CP6 each began to identify the structures of their self-limiting loops, providing essential groundwork for rewriting their leadership narratives.

For CP4, the pattern of conflict avoidance crystallised only after she developed enough capacity to remain with the discomfort. Previously, she brushed over interpersonal tension by taking on extra work or deferring to others, often at the cost of her wellbeing. In one session she named a realisation, “I keep ending up with everyone’s leftover work. Why do I never say no?” Rather than reassure, I leaned into ‘Intentional Disruption’ and invited her to pause, rewind and track the sequence together. We mapped the events. The pattern typically began with a colleague or manager asking for a favour framed as a minor request. Her immediate response, “Sure, no problem,” emerged automatically without internal consultation. The outcome was a growing sense of resentment masked by outward agreeableness and a creeping fatigue that undermined performance and confidence. In unpacking this loop, CP4 saw how a fear of disapproval and a need not to be seen as “the bad guy” drove the reflex, an instance of unconscious resistance (RQ2). Framed through an action-method lens, mapping transformed the loop into something external, observable and therefore modifiable. “I guess I am trying to keep the peace at my own expense,” she concluded, “and ironically, it does not prevent conflict, it just delays it.” My move was to slow the moment and create a reflective frame that invited thoughtfulness and perspective. Doing this work together relied on the strength of the alliance and the ability to hold discomfort while thinking, which evidences RQ1.

For CP5, the loop centred on a well-practised form of micromanagement. Deeply invested in the success of his start-up and marked by a fear of public failure, his instinct under stress was to control outcomes directly. Minor errors or looming deadlines triggered anxiety, prompting him to step in and redo his team’s work. Although this provided short-term relief and ensured deliverables met his standards, it created both dependency and disengagement among his staff. Sensing defensiveness rising in one session, I adopted ‘Relational Field Awareness and Containment’ and invited him into a shared whiteboard exercise to map the behaviour loop. As we diagrammed the cycle together, he experienced a moment of clarity, “It is a self-fulfilling prophecy. If I never let them learn, of course they will not get better.” From a (NS) perspective, this revealed a habitual stress circuit, limbic activation in response to perceived risk followed by a controlling behaviour that soothed his discomfort. We explored how this linked to earlier professional experiences where failure was met with public shaming. The action-method framing helped him see the behaviour not as a flaw but as a testable loop. Together we co-designed a series of micro-experiments that balanced psychodynamic challenge with emotional safety. This collaboration made it explicit how the coaching alliance functioned as a developmental container, speaking to RQ1, because each joint experiment strengthened his capacity to act on insight. By acknowledging the control pattern as a protective defence and naming it openly, we jointly disrupted its hold, addressing RQ2 in action.

Through these experiments, CP5 learned to delegate, tolerate uncertainty and remain reflective under pressure. The process showed how iterative cycles of shared experimentation and reflection built relational trust and translated awareness into new behaviour. This unfolding collaboration is an example of the emerging relational arc in which coach and leader co-create the conditions for sustained change.

In CP6’s case, the loop revealed itself as a repeated surrendering of authority. Despite holding the formal role of CEO, she often found herself overshadowed by the founder, who maintained informal control through direct communication with her team. These moments left her feeling bypassed and resentful, yet she routinely chose to remain silent through the tension to preserve harmony. During a mapping exercise I noticed her language flatten, “It is fine, it is just how things work,” and paused to ask, “What is not fine underneath that?” We charted the pattern of when the founder stepped into her role. CP6 would say nothing, hoping not to appear ungrateful for earlier opportunities. The outcome was a reinforced power imbalance that left her feeling both invisible and complicit. The turning point came when she named a deeper truth, “I learned early in my career to never upset the boss.” Viewed through a (SP) lens, this illuminated a previously unconscious belief (RQ2) that asserting authority risked rejection or retaliation. Mapping provided clarity and agency as she began to see her silence as a conditioned reflex, not a requirement. My practice was to disrupt the narrative lightly while keeping her authorship at the centre, and the stability of our alliance made that disruption thinkable and safe, which again reflects RQ1.

Across all three cases, the practice of mapping offered a structured way to interpret recurring patterns. The leaders came to see their loops as adaptive responses shaped by past experience and maintained by previously unconscious fears (RQ2) rather than as personal shortcomings. My role through the ‘Other’ stance was to create a reflective frame in which loops could be named and explored, and to ensure the alliance remained a secure base for that examination, directly supporting RQ1.

7.5 Practice No.3 ‘Own and Rewrite Your Narrative’

The third practice in the ‘Self’ stance framework, ‘Own and Rewrite Your Narrative’, invites leaders to reframe and re-author the personal and cultural narratives that shape their leadership identity. These narratives, often formed through early family roles or formative professional experiences, operate as internal scripts that continue to influence behaviour long after they have ceased to be useful. By surfacing and reframing these stories, leaders can shift from automatic, constrained responses to more intentional and empowered ones. From a (SP) perspective this process brings unconscious identifications and defences into awareness, addressing RQ2. (NS) supports the value of re-labelling and re-authoring in modulating emotional responses and shifting neural patterns, while (AM) provide a pragmatic lens through which language functions as both symbol and strategy, enabling behavioural change through real-time rehearsal of new narratives. The stability of the coaching alliance created the conditions for this exploration without shame or defensiveness, directly supporting RQ1.

For CP4, the narrative in need of rewriting had early family foundations. She described herself as the “peacekeeper” in her childhood home, the one who soothed conflict and kept others calm. This identity followed her into leadership, where she unconsciously equated disagreement with moral failure. In one session she said tearfully, “If I cause friction, I feel I’m failing my ‘good-person’ identity.” Later she re-interpreted conflict through its etymology, con (“with”) and flict(“difference”), and began to see engaging with difference as an act of leadership rather than opposition. I maintained ‘Relational Field Awareness and Containment’, allowing the grief in her voice to be held without interruption. Naming the narrative aloud marked a turning point. We collaboratively reframed it as “I can act with integrity and challenge unethical or problematic decisions” and “sometimes challenging is the most responsible act of leadership.” Through a (SP) lens this intervention surfaced a previously unconscious defence, the belief that asserting herself meant harming her relationships (RQ2). As she distinguished assertiveness from aggression she reclaimed a fuller sense of integrity. In a later meeting she drew on this revised narrative to oppose a cost-cutting proposal that compromised team wellbeing. Afterwards she said, “Being honest is being respectful.” Our dialogue provided the scaffold for her to re-author the narrative. The steadiness of the alliance enabled this reframing to unfold safely, evidencing RQ1 as a developmental container.

For CP5, rewriting began by linking his micromanagement loop to an unspoken fear established early in his career. He recalled a humiliating incident in his first role where a small error led to public criticism. From this he internalised the belief “Any slip equals failure and that equals shame.” When asked how this belief shaped his current leadership he said, “I guess I do everything myself. It’s exhausting.” Using ‘Narrative Attunement’, I slowed the moment and stayed present, allowing the emotion behind the words to surface. This pause created space for a new narrative to emerge where mistakes could be reframed not as proof of inadequacy but as opportunities for learning. Together we articulated, “Mistakes are experiments, and we learn together.” He began using this phrase in team meetings to describe setbacks. From a (SP) lens, this disrupted an identity anchored in fear of exposure (RQ2). From a (NS) view, re-labelling the emotional event redirected his defensive response toward reflective processing. From an (AM) perspective, changing the language catalysed behavioural change. When a junior developer made a mistake, CP5 responded with curiosity he shared that he said “Interesting experiment, what do we learn here?” This co-designed moment of ‘Iterative Experimentation’ became embedded in his narrative. His anxiety began to diminish and his team grew more open about disclosing mistakes. The alliance’s balance of challenge and containment provided the trust required for this re-authoring (RQ1).

CP6’s narrative centred on authority and legitimacy. Despite holding the title of CEO, she frequently deferred to the company’s founder, who retained informal control and influence. She joked, “Sometimes I feel I should say ‘thank you’ for letting me be CEO.” Hearing this, I reflected, “When you say that, I hear you asking for permission. Why do you feel you need to thank him when you are the role?” This reflection was offered as my associations to what she had shared. I asked her if she felt that I should thank her for being her coach? To which she replied “No. But sometimes I do feel that I should thank you.” This provided us with the opportunity to explore out dynamic in that reframed her belief that being open and transparent causes conflict. The intention was to surface an unconscious identification with subordination and invite her to inhabit her authority more completely (RQ2).

This moment of ‘Intentional Disruption’ was carefully calibrated and delivered to unsettle a narrative that no longer served her. In a later session she wrote an unsent letter to the founder beginning, “I’m not a guest. I’m the captain. I run this ship.” The act was deeply resonant and prepared her for a subsequent conversation in which they redefined how authority and decision-making were shared. The meeting was collaborative and confident, she also shared that the founder was unaware how she was feeling which provided her with further data to reinforce an earlier insight of her responsibility of leadership to raise concerns directly. The new narrative, “I earned this role,” became both cognitive and embodied. She reported feeling physically lighter, saying, “My back literally felt better.” This connection between story and body aligned with (NS) findings on the somatic release of stored tension. From a (SP) lens the moment represented the dissolution of the gratitude-permission defence (RQ2). From an (AM) lens the conversation itself became a live experiment turning reflection into relational action. The reliability of the coaching alliance made this disruption possible and safe (RQ1).

Across these three cases, the practice of ‘Own and Rewrite Your Narrative’ became a gateway to behavioural transformation. My use of the ‘Other’ stance, particularly ‘Narrative Attunement’, ‘Relational Field Awareness and Containment’, and ‘Intentional Disruption’, was central to enabling this re-authoring without overriding the leaders’ agency. Yet the power of narrative alone is insufficient when leaders face real-time pressure. In such moments old stories can reassert themselves unless supported by in-the-moment regulatory strategies, which the next section explores.

7.6 Practice No.4: ‘Breathe Before You Act’

The fourth ‘Self’ stance practice, ‘Breathe Before You Act’, represents a turning point where insight and identity work begin to translate into in-the-moment behavioural regulation. It is one thing to understand the origins of a reactive habit or to articulate a new narrative, but quite another to enact that understanding under pressure. This practice addresses the knowing-doing gap by equipping leaders with somatic and mindfulness-based strategies to pause, self-regulate and act in ways consistent with their developmental goals. (NS) highlights how stress activates the amygdala and narrows cognitive flexibility, while embodied awareness stimulates the parasympathetic system, reducing cortisol and re-engaging the prefrontal cortex (RQ3). (AM) reinforce this by framing self- regulation as an intentional and repeatable experiment. The coaching alliance created a holding environment in which these techniques could be safely tested, making this work inherently relational (RQ1).

For CP6, this practice was crucial in managing the physiological manifestations of anxiety she experienced before board meetings or difficult conversations with the founder. She described a tightening back, clenched jaw and shallow breath that signalled her stress response escalating. Drawing on ‘Somatic and Co-Regulation’, we named these embodied indicators and normalised them as data rather than dysfunction. Together we introduced a ‘four-six’ breathing technique (inhale for four counts, exhale for six) to activate the body’s relaxation response. Alongside this, she adopted the phrase “It’s about the idea” as a cognitive anchor to separate her self-worth from performance outcomes. The effect was both immediate and cumulative. After a key board meeting she reflected, “I stayed calmer, I didn’t ramble and I felt in control. It was actually empowering.” CP6 began to use the practice daily to remind her of the practice enabling her to activate it more readily when tense moments arose. This gradual integration evidenced RQ3, as repetition helped rewire her stress response, shifting from panic to agency. Intentionally undertaking breathing together within the sessions normalised and embedded the new habit and reinforced the alliance as a co-regulatory container (RQ1).

For CP5, ‘Breathe Before You Act’ evolved into what he called his ‘thirty-second reset.’ He recognised that investor scrutiny and deadlines triggered his “confidence performance” mode, leaving little room for others’ input. When he felt his heart racing or breath shorten, we practised a physical lean- back combined with a deep exhale to reset posture and attention. He also used “drink breaks” as socially acceptable pauses to slow the pace. These simple behavioural anchors, drawn from ‘Intentional Disruption’, helped interrupt his habitual urge to control. From a (NS) perspective this intervention started to break the stress cascade and reactivated reflective awareness (RQ3). From an (AM) view, each reset became an if-then plan: “If I feel the urge to jump in, then I take a sip of water and breathe.” CP5 later remarked, “It’s almost comedic how sipping water stops me from taking over.” These embodied resets reduced his reactivity and modelled composure for his team. The alliance provided a safe space to practise these micro-pauses before applying them in real settings (RQ1).

For CP4, the practice took the form of “name it to tame it” (Siegel 2010; Siegel & Bryson 2011), based on research showing that emotion labelling reduces amygdala activation (Lieberman et al. 2007; Torre & Lieberman 2018). In emotionally charged meetings, such as when peers criticised her work, CP4 often froze or appeased. Her heart raced, her mind went blank, and she lost her voice. We practised silently naming emotions, “I feel nervous,” “I feel attacked”, to bring awareness to her inner state and re-engage cognitive control. Together we used ‘Somatic and Co-Regulation’, attending to posture and breath to restore presence. In one instance, after labelling her emotion, she calmly replied, “I hear your concerns. Let’s problem-solve.” Later she said, “Usually I’d crumble, but naming how I felt kept me grounded.” This illustrated how co-regulation in the coaching space translated into self-regulation in real life (RQ3, RQ1).

Across all three cases, ‘Breathe Before You Act’ helped leaders to stay present in high-pressure moments and enact their new narratives. These somatic and cognitive strategies appeared to transform their reactivity into intentional choice. My practice through ‘Somatic and Co-Regulation’ helped to scaffold their learning by modelling calm containment. The safety of our dynamics allowed experimentation without judgement. It seemed to strengthen our emotional resilience and maintaining access to higher-order thinking (RQ1, RQ3). This practice marked a critical bridge between internal insight and external action by helping translate inner awareness into outward experimentation.

7.7 Practice No.5: ‘Invite Real Challenge’

The fifth ‘Self’ stance practice, ‘Invite Real Challenge’, was a significant in the developmental process. It transformed the leader’s relationship with discomfort, from something to be avoided or endured to something to be actively sought as a catalyst for learning. This practice builds directly on the capacity for regulation developed in ‘Breathe Before You Act’, enabling leaders to welcome feedback, difference and tension without defensiveness. Through this, challenge becomes a developmental force rather than a threat to identity or competence. From an (SP) lens, this work exposes and re- patterns defensive structures (RQ2), while the coaching alliance provides the safety required for genuine confrontation and experimentation (RQ1).

For CP4, ‘Inviting Challenge’ helped redefine her leadership identity. Earlier in coaching, she had avoided disagreement to preserve harmony, equating conflict with relational damage. After reframing her narrative and practising self-regulation, she experimented with vulnerability in a new way. In one session, she recounted inviting her team to challenge her: “If you disagree with me, please tell me.” For CP4, this was a profound departure from her pattern of appeasement. When I asked how it felt to request dissent, she admitted, “Terrifying at first, but once they spoke up, I felt relieved.” Her fear that challenge would fracture trust gave way to the insight that respectful disagreement deepens it. From a (SP) perspective, she was loosening the “good person” defence and integrating a more authentic leadership stance (RQ2). From an (AM) lens, she was testing a new interactional pattern through real-world feedback. My stance of ‘Relational Field Awareness and Containment’ allowed the discomfort to settle before affirmation, letting her discovery consolidate within the alliance (RQ1).

For CP5, this practice evolved from guarded resistance to active engagement. Early in our work, he deflected feedback, often justifying decisions to maintain control. A turning point came when I said, “Your team might feel demotivated if you keep redoing their work. What do you think?” I offered this as an ‘Intentional Disruption’, direct but grounded in care, to invite self-reflection rather than compliance. Though he initially bristled, we explored his reaction together. He later reframed the experience as an act of respect: “You weren’t criticising me; you were trusting me to face it.” This moment illuminated how defensive control protected him from the shame of failure (RQ2). Gradually, he began inviting similar challenges from his team, telling them, “If I start taking over, call me out.” He described this as “liberating,” noting how it strengthened rather than threatened credibility. From a (NS) perspective, repeated exposure to manageable challenge reduced the emotional threat response, expanding his tolerance for discomfort (RQ3, secondary). The relational safety of our alliance made this recalibration possible (RQ1).

For CP6, ‘Inviting Challenge’ culminated in a long-postponed conversation with the founder. For months, she had rationalised avoidance by citing poor timing or potential backlash. In a session, I asked, “What if the tension you feel is giving you a signal that the conversation needs to happen?” When she leaned forward and exhaled I sensed it was time. She resolved to meet with the founder that week. The conversation, once unthinkable, was calm and decisive. She had reasserted her role and established clear decision boundaries. This act represented the dismantling of a long-standing submission defence (RQ2) and embodied the alliance’s purpose as a secure base for real-world experimentation (RQ1). Later, she reflected, “I realised the risk of not speaking was greater than the risk of conflict.”

Across all three leaders, ‘Inviting Challenge’ marked the integration of earlier practices, sitting with discomfort, mapping old loops, and rewriting narratives, into outward relational behaviour. It represented both a test and confirmation of development. The coaching alliance functioned as the holding environment that made risk-taking tolerable and learning sustainable (RQ1). The practice revealed that defences are most effectively re-patterned not through analysis alone but through lived experience within a trusted relational field (RQ2). ‘Inviting Challenge’ became both evidence and expression of the relational arc with growth co-created through the dynamics of containment, courage, and connection.

7.8 Practice No.6 ‘Run Micro-Experiments’

The sixth ‘Self’ stance practice, ‘Run Micro-Experiments’, is when internal insight becomes external action. Anchored in (AM), this practice invites leaders to trial new behaviours in the real world through low-stakes, deliberate experiments. These small, structured actions test the assumptions and narratives previously surfaced and re-authored, allowing learning through feedback and lived experience. Crucially, these experiments serve as embodied counterpoints to entrenched beliefs and defence patterns, helping leaders move from conceptual understanding to behavioural fluency. The experiments are not designed for perfect outcomes but to stretch habitual responses just far enough to open up new relational and systemic possibilities. The work draws directly on (SP), (NS) and (AM) integration (RQ4) and depends on the safety and containment of the coaching alliance (RQ1) for experimentation to succeed.

For CP4, experimenting with assertiveness was both delicate and defining. Having reframed her long- standing script around being agreeable, she began testing new responses in live leadership contexts. She practised bringing forward perspectives she had previously withheld, contributing more fully to shared decision-making and organisational purpose. In meetings, she voiced one thoughtful observation or alternative view each week, aligning discussion with collective goals rather than her own comfort. She also delegated a budget presentation to a team member and resisted the urge to refine the work herself. These acts tested her previously unconscious belief that asserting herself or relinquishing control would result in rejection or diminished respect, an instance of unconscious resistance (RQ2). The results surprised her when colleagues responded positively, and one expressed appreciation for the opportunity to lead. She also noted that she actually felt greater respect from her team. From a (SP) perspective, these experiments disconfirmed the internalised association between dissent and rejection. Viewed through an (AM) lens, they created a feedback loop that replaced anxious anticipation with real-world evidence that contribution and candour could deepen trust. “The world didn’t end,” she said. “In fact, people stepped up.” The cumulative effect of these experiments began to rewrite both her behaviour and her sense of efficacy. My coaching stance involved intentionally withholding immediate affirmation, allowing her to process outcomes herself. This act of containment supported her growing confidence and exemplified the alliance as a developmental container (RQ1).

CP5’s micro-experiments focused on loosening the grip of his micromanagement reflex. Having surfaced the link between early professional humiliation and his compulsion for control, and after practising somatic regulation under stress, he turned to behavioural experimentation. His first experiment was deceptively simple in choosing to speak last in team meetings. “It was pretty challenging to be honest,” he confessed, describing the urge to lead with direction. The experiment created space for others to contribute first, challenging his assumption that leadership required being the first and most certain voice in the room. Importantly, he invited his team into the change, explaining what he was trying to do and why. A second experiment involved allowing a colleague to take the lead on a client pitch deck without his usual last-minute edits. Despite discomfort, he reflected, “When I stepped back, their creativity surprised me.” From a (NS) perspective, these experiences retrained his stress response, reducing the automatic flight into control when uncertainty arose (RQ3). From an (AM) standpoint, his experiments were framed as if-then strategies: “If I feel the itch to jump in, I’ll ask a question or take a sip of water.” These cognitive anchors reinforced the new identity he was constructing, one grounded in trust, collaboration and resilience. We co-designed several of these experiments together, balancing psychodynamic stretch with emotional safety and mirroring his language to reinforce authorship. Each trial drew on the alliance’s capacity for reflection and co-regulation (RQ1).

For CP6, whose habitual stance was to over-function outside her role to feel “useful” when she felt de-authorised, micro-experimentation became the means to reclaim agency and authority. Her first behavioural shift involved implementing a deliberate ninety-second pause, taking a few steady breaths before agreeing to any request. Instead of reflexively saying “yes,” she began responding with, “Let me understand what you’re asking me to do,” followed by one of several boundary statements depending on the situation. This short pause slowed the pace of interaction and helped settle the physiological urgency that previously drove automatic agreement. It created space for discernment and shifted the relational dynamic that had long constrained her authority. Sometimes she said, “I can see why that feels urgent, but I’m not the right person to take it forward. Who else can support you?” In others, she replied, “That doesn’t fit my current priorities, so I’ll need to decline.” And when the request clearly belonged elsewhere, she added, “This sits within your area of responsibility, so I’ll leave it with you.”

A more substantial experiment followed when she scheduled recurring one-to-one meetings with the founder and explicitly requested that operational decisions be channelled through her. These structural changes reasserted her role as CEO not only in title but in practice. Initially, she feared that setting boundaries would be perceived as indifference. “At first, I worried they’d think I didn’t care,” she said. “But they actually valued the clarity. My deputy was thrilled to take the meetings I turned down.” These outcomes reinforced a new leadership narrative grounded in discernment rather than deference. Each of these experiments was framed collaboratively in coaching sessions where I practised ‘Narrative Attunement’, helping her reframe these small acts as expressions of responsibility, not resistance.

The symbolic arc of CP6’s transformation was vividly captured in two projective drawings completed during our work. In her first session, she drew herself inside a large leaking bucket, surrounded by disconnected onlookers (see Figure 7.8.1, CP6 initial drawing). The image conveyed a powerful (SP) metaphor, she was the lone container trying to plug systemic leaks and shouldering responsibility in whilst everyone else watched on. This paralleled her PRISM Brain Mapping adapted profile, which showed amplified assertiveness and suppressed relational traits, indicators of stress, over- functioning and reduced support. The drawing embodied her sense of being de-authorised and emotionally disconnected in a system that demanded too much while recognising too little.

By our final session, the imagery had completely changed. She drew herself at the helm of a boat, navigating both calm and rough seas under a steady beam of light (see Figure 7.8.2, CP6 final drawing). “I know now that the seas will be rough sometimes,” she said, “but I have the skills to navigate them.” This second image represented more than competence it captured containment, direction and restored authority. From an (SP) lens, it symbolised the re-integration of her agency within the organisational field. From an (AM) perspective, it illustrated the iterative learning cycle of test, observe, reflect, adapt (RQ4). My practice of ‘Relational Field Awareness and Containment’ enabled her to see and feel the contrast between the two drawings rather than just describe it. The alliance’s stability made that realisation possible (RQ1).

Across all three leaders, ‘Run Micro-Experiments’ demonstrated how small, deliberate actions translate internal learning into external change. These experiments stretched each leader’s comfort zone without overwhelming their capacity, providing the ‘safe-to-fail’ conditions necessary for growth. Within the alliance, experiments were co-designed, enacted and debriefed, turning the coaching relationship into a relational laboratory where insight became embodied practice (RQ1, RQ4). The process revealed that transformation is sustained not through isolated breakthroughs but through iterative cycles of action, reflection and relational feedback. In this sense, Run Micro- Experiments embodies the essence of the relational arc, where coach and leader co-create the conditions for enduring, self-directed development.

7.9 Practice No.7 ‘Reflect, Refine, Repeat’

The seventh practice in the ‘Self’ stance is characterised by the leader’s capacity to independently sustain and evolve their development beyond the formal coaching engagement. ‘Reflect, Refine, Repeat’ describes an internalised cycle of research, experimentation and adjustment. While presented here as the seventh practice, it does not suggest a linear progression, rather, it represents a recursive dynamic through which earlier practices continue to interact and evolve. Leaders move fluidly among sitting with tension, mapping patterns, rewriting narratives, regulating under pressure, inviting challenge and running micro-experiments, returning to each as context and awareness shift. In this sense, ‘Reflect, Refine, Repeat’ signifies the integration of any or all prior practices into an ongoing rhythm of self-directed learning. This adaptive movement aligns directly with RQ1 and RQ5, demonstrating both the behavioural transfer enabled by the coaching alliance and the influence of my researcher-coach’s positioning on long-term transformation.

CP5 offered one of the clearest examples of this internalisation. In early sessions, he often sought guidance in a dependent tone, asking, “What do I do about this employee?” as though the authority to act resided with me. Over time his stance changed and in later sessions, he brought his own ideas, saying, “I’ve been working through some challenges and thinking, and I want to explore your insights.” This subtle but significant transition, from coached to self-coaching, signalled the internalisation of reflective capacity. CP5 also began tackling development areas that had not arisen in our sessions, such as recognising his micromanagement tendencies at home. He initiated delegation there too and began using journaling as a self-reflective tool. His comment, “Coaching helped, but I’m the one who must keep practising’. This highlighted the action-learning mindset. From an (AM) perspective, this demonstrated full engagement with the experiential cycle plan, act, observe, reflect and adjust. My role at this stage shifted deliberately into the background. I held back from directing, mirrored his language, and reinforced his ownership. This intentional restraint, holding a supportive but less directive space, helped consolidate his autonomy and evidenced the alliance’s role as a developmental container (RQ1, RQ5).

CP4’s journey showed a similar evolution. Early in the engagement, she often sought permission to raise topics, “Is it okay if we talk about this?”, a reflection of her earlier people-pleasing and conflict- avoidant patterns. By the later stages, her approach had transformed. She entered sessions with confidence and clarity “I’ve got three things to handle, my tough talk with my manager, a pattern I noticed in myself, and whether to apply for a director role.” This assertive structuring marked a decisive shift from seeking reassurance to asserting authorship. Her decision to apply for the director role, regardless of outcome, symbolised her new independence: “Just applying is a sign I’ve grown.” In our final sessions, I noticed myself becoming quieter, functioning as a mirror and amplifier rather than a guide. Allowing silence to hold the space was an intentional act of containment that acknowledged her authorship (RQ5). The alliance had become internalised she was now using our dynamic as a reflective surface rather than as a source of validation (RQ1).

CP6 embodied this practice through a moment of mindful restraint. Following a tense interaction with a senior leader, she had to reach for her phone to bring our session forward, then paused. “I knew I had the tools, so I journalled it instead,” she explained. Later, during our final session, she reflected, “I guess I don’t need the floaties anymore.” This statement encapsulated her transition from dependence on the coaching space to autonomous self-coaching. She also demonstrated systemic influence, initiating a board-level conversation to clarify her decision-making authority, a step previously unthinkable for her. This act revealed that she was not only regulating internal states but actively reshaping her external environment. From a (SP) perspective, she had rewritten a previously unconscious relational script (RQ2) that equated deference with safety. From an (AM) lens, she was initiating experiments of her own design and from a (NS) lens, she had established new patterns of embodied regulation that replaced old reactivity (RQ4). My stance, once containing and occasionally disruptive, had evolved into quiet endorsement. By trusting her to lead her own learning, I modelled the reflexivity and relational trust that underpinned our entire process (RQ5).

Across all three leaders, ‘Reflect, Refine, Repeat’ represented the culmination of the relational and developmental arc. Each leader demonstrated the ability to hold their own learning process, showing that insight had translated into sustained, self-directed action (RQ1). The alliance, once a structure that held the learning, had been internalised as a reflective model for continued growth. For me as researcher-coach, this practice illuminated the reciprocal nature of transformation: my containment, pacing and willingness to release control directly influenced whether autonomy could embed (RQ5). Reflect, Refine, Repeat thus signifies not the end of coaching, but its success, the point at which the relational field has equipped the leader to continue evolving through the same iterative rhythm of reflection, refinement and action that shaped our work together.

7.10 Cross case summary seven practices in action

Having explored each of the seven ‘Self’ stance practices, this section synthesises how they manifested across the journeys of CP4, CP5 and CP6. Although the leaders did not use the term ‘Self’ stance, I continue to apply it here to interpret the mutual learning that unfolded between us and to trace how both coach and leader evolved through our shared practice. These patterns resonate with themes from earlier coaching work in Chapter 4, align with relational dynamics described by interview participants in Chapter 5 and are reinforced by the theoretical lenses outlined in Chapter 2.

The ‘Self’ stance grew out of our work together. It developed through the back-and-forth rhythm of discomfort, insight, experimentation and reflection that shaped both the leaders and me. Our development unfolded relationally, enabled by the complementary ‘Self’ and ‘Other’ stances that together created the conditions for change. This reciprocal process also reflected the operationalising the coaching alliance described in RQ1.

CP4’s development began with the courage to remain present in the discomfort of conflict. Her long- held avoidance pattern gradually gave way to a more assertive presence in meetings where she allowed herself to speak up and tolerate disagreement. Through mapping her reactive loop and noticing how she absorbed extra work to avoid disappointing others, she identified the unconscious resistance described in RQ2 that had sustained her people-pleasing. Naming this pattern enabled her to re-author her leadership story from “I must keep everyone happy” to “I can be caring and assertive, and sometimes the most respectful act is to challenge.” From this new position CP4 experimented with saying no, delegating and inviting dissent. In high-pressure moments she used self-talk and breathing to regulate intensity, creating space for genuine dialogue with her team. As these micro-behaviours accumulated, she became self-directed in her learning, eventually leading her own coaching agenda and applying for a senior role. Throughout our work the shared practice of ‘Narrative Attunement’ and ‘Relational Field Awareness and Containment’ was central. My steadiness mirrored her emerging capacity to hold discomfort, and together we transformed avoidance into courage through a co-created alliance that turned insight into action.

CP5’s trajectory followed a parallel but distinct path. An early career failure had shaped the internal rule “I must never fail,” which drove patterns of micromanaging and over-control. Sitting together in the vulnerability of uncertainty became the pivotal relational moment that loosened this rule. From that point CP5 could see how his fear of failure maintained his habitual loop. Rewriting his story from perfectionism to learning allowed him to experiment safely and to treat mistakes as data. Through breathwork, brief resets and ‘if-then’ plans he developed physiological regulation that prevented stress escalation, directly addressing RQ3. Together we designed small experiments such as delegating tasks, inviting feedback and resisting the urge to fix others’ work. Each success deepened trust in the alliance and built his self-coaching capacity. My stance combined ‘Intentional Disruption’ with reflective restraint, offering challenge and then stepping back to return agency. By the end of the engagement CP5 was framing his own strategies and using coaching principles with his team and family. Our mutual exploration of vulnerability created the psychological safety that made experimentation possible and showed how the alliance itself can rewire both cognitive and embodied habits.

CP6 entered coaching feeling like a guest in her own organisation and overshadowed by a dominant founder. Her suppressed anger revealed a long-standing defensive pattern of deference, another form of unconscious resistance. Naming and staying with this anger allowed us to trace a cycle of compliance that undermined her authority. Through our shared attention to these embodied emotions and the underlying power dynamics, frustration began to transform into agency. As CP6 integrated somatic techniques such as breathwork she developed the regulation needed to stay grounded during tense board interactions. Grounded in this centred stance she reframed her story to “I am not a guest, I earned this role,” and from there initiated systemic changes that clarified decision authority and empowered her deputy. When she later journalled through a leadership challenge unaided, she demonstrated the autonomy that marks the internalisation of the ‘Other’ stance. My work with CP6 balanced ‘Narrative Attunement’ and ‘Systemic Orientation’, noticing organisational projections while managing my own countertransference. The quality of our mutual containment turned emotional tension into purposeful action and revealed how relational presence can enable systemic transformation.

Across CP4, CP5 and CP6, the seven ‘Self’ stance practices proved mutually reinforcing. Sitting in discomfort deepened awareness of behavioural patterns, while reflection and iteration strengthened capacity for discomfort. Regulation, reframing, inviting challenge and experimenting in action interacted dynamically, each amplifying the others at different points. Throughout this developmental interplay my ‘Other’ stance acted as a stabiliser, adjusting the rhythm of challenge and reflection in response to each leader’s readiness. The process was inherently co-constructed, a shared field of learning in which both coach and leader evolved, addressing the relational dimensions outlined in Research Questions 1 and 5.

This design draws together the three theoretical foundations of the study. (SP) surfaces and disrupts unconscious defence mechanisms. (NS) supports emotional and cognitive regulation. (AM) provide the structure for experimentation and iterative action. Together they demonstrate that insight alone is insufficient for transformation. Leaders enact meaningful change when emotional courage, pattern recognition, narrative reframing, regulation, experimentation and reflection occur within a relationally held coaching field. The ‘Self’ stance therefore represents a disciplined way of relating to one’s own growth that becomes possible through the reflective and attuned presence of a coach holding the ‘Other’ stance. This synthesis leads directly into section 7.11, which links these findings to the five research questions and clarifies how the coaching alliance, unconscious processes and integrative practice collectively bridge the insight-to-action gap.

7.11 Linking back to my research questions

Having traced each leaders engagement with the seven ‘Self’ stance practices, it is now possible to re-engage my research questions through an integrated, evidence-based lens. The journeys of CP4, CP5 and CP6 illuminate how the insight-to-action gap was narrowed not through insight alone but through relational and embodied practice. Their growth arcs also affirm the value of an integrative coaching methodology that draws on (SP), (NS) and (AM), while reinforcing the co-constructed nature of behavioural transformation. The chapter also reveals how my own use of the ‘Other’ stance through reflexive containment, challenge, disruption and narrative mirroring co-created the conditions for each leaders shift.

In relation to RQ1, which asked how the coaching alliance shapes whether leaders translate insight into action and what specific interventions enhance behavioural transfer, it is clear that the strength and safety of the alliance were foundational. My stance of containment offering emotional steadiness, psychological safety and space for unedited expression enabled each leader to tolerate discomfort, surface defences and take emotional risks. The strategic interventions such as ‘Intentional Disruption’ and co-designed micro-experiments helped translate cognitive awareness into embodied behaviour. With each leader, I intentionally tempered the challenge with care that co- created a dynamic where risk taking felt possible. These interventions scaffolded each leaders ability to engage with discomfort, to test new behaviours and to refine their leadership stance over time.

In RQ2, that was concerned with the unconscious defences that sustain habitual leadership behaviours and the ways coaching might disrupt them the data provided compelling insight. For CP4, conflict avoidance masked a fear of rejection enmeshed in her identity as a peacekeeper. CP5’s micromanagement was driven by a deeply internalised narrative about failure and exposure. CP6’s deference to the founder was shaped by a longstanding pattern of people pleasing, linked to early professional conditioning. Through the ‘Self’ stance practices of ‘Sit with the Tension’, ‘Map the loop’ and ‘Owning and Rewriting your Narrative’, these unconscious dynamics were surfaced, explored and gradually loosened. My coaching work in these moments involved ‘Reflective Use of Self’, for instance, resisting CP4’s desire to reassure her or naming countertransference when working with CP6. (SP) techniques such as working with projection identification and narrative reframing was essential in helping the leaders confront these ingrained patterns with compassion and agency.

RQ3 which asked how neural habit formation, stress responses and cognitive constraints affect leadership transformation and how coaching might engage with these forces. The fourth ‘Self’ stance practice, ‘Breathe Before You Act’, emerged as central. All three leaders learned to recognise physiological stress cues and employ somatic techniques, such as breathwork, skilful self-talk and bodily grounding, to interrupt automatic responses. Grounded in the (NS) of stress and autonomic regulation and supported by research on neuroplasticity, these practices enabled them to remain in a reflective state under pressure. In my role, I acted as a co-regulator, offering presence, pacing and a calm affect when their nervous systems indicated overload. Over time, my containment may have become internalised. Through repetition across sessions and real-world situations, they gradually rewired reactive habits into more intentional responses, validating (NS) informed approaches as a powerful ally in leadership development.

In considering RQ4, which probed the comparative benefits and limitations of integrating (SP), (NS) and (AM) in coaching, the evidence across these cases strongly supports the utility of an integrative approach. (SP) provided access to the narratives, roles and projections that had previously operated unconsciously. (NS) offered not only explanations but practical tools for managing emotional reactivity and enabling learning under stress. (AM) ensured that insight was consistently translated into practice through real time experimentation, reflection and adjustment. In each case, I moved fluidly across these three domains, adapting in real time to the leaders cues and capacity. My challenge was to stay conceptually grounded while remaining open to what emerged in the room. The synergy of these three domains enabled more durable change than any one alone could have achieved. At the same time, the limitations of integration became visible. It demanded ongoing reflexivity on my part when to hold back, when to challenge, when to co-create structure. This complexity demands a high level of training and may not be easily replicable without significant practitioner development.

Finally, RQ5 explored how my researcher-coach’s own positioning influenced the effectiveness of interventions. Across all three cases my reflexive posture of the 'Other' Stance was critical. I had to navigate my own emotional responses, including noticing and resisting the pull to rescue CP4 from discomfort, managing the temptation to challenge CP5 prematurely and working with the subtle countertransference with CP6 that mirrored her organisational dynamics. I tracked my internal reactions as data, using them to inform my stance rather than unconsciously enact them. By staying attuned to these inner signals and using them as material in the coaching field, I was able to model a way of being that invited the leaders into their own reflexive practice. My active containment of emotional tension, together with my challenge and willingness to sit in uncertainty, directly influenced the emergence of the 'Self' Stance. These findings affirm that coaching is not a neutral technique but a relational craft, shaped as much by the coach’s inner stance as by their technical interventions.

7.12 The ‘Self’ stance as complement to the ‘Other’ stance

In Chapter 6 I introduced the ‘Other’ stance, an intentionally adopted coaching stance that draws together (SP), (NS) and (AM) into seven integrative moves. These include ‘Relational Field Awareness and Containment’, ‘Reflexive Use of Self’, ‘Narrative Attunement’, ‘Somatic and Co-Regulation’, ‘Systemic Orientation’, ‘Intentional Disruption’ and ‘Iterative Experimentation’. These coaching practices represent my relational infrastructure that scaffolds the transformational learning articulated in my thesis.

As this chapter has shown, these practices do not occur in a vacuum. Their effectiveness is profoundly shaped by the leaders reciprocal stance, their readiness to engage, reflect and act. This complementary stance, which I term the ‘Self’ stance, is constituted by seven developmental practices, ‘Sit with the Tension’, ‘Map the Loop’, ‘Own and Rewrite Your Narrative’, ‘Breathe Before You Act’, ‘Invite Real Challenge’, ‘Run Micro-Experiments’ and ‘Reflect, Refine, Repeat’.

These ‘Self’ stance practices are not simply outcomes of the coach’s work, they are active responses that co-create the coaching field. At times my intentional containment enabled the leader to stay with discomfort long enough for insight to emerge. At other moments a deliberately timed disruption helped loosen entrenched narratives. These were not isolated techniques they were relational gestures shaped in real time by the leaders responses and readiness.

Each practice is most effective when held in relation to complementary practices in the coach’s stance, yet these relationships are not fixed pairs. For instance, the coach’s capacity to create a psychologically safe environment in which emotion and ambiguity can be held without premature resolution can enable the leader to ‘Sit with the Tension’, staying present with discomfort long enough for new awareness to emerge. Without such containment, the discomfort may be overwhelming. In CP4’s case resisting my urge to soothe was itself a containing coaching intervention (Alford 2001) allowing her to stay in the discomfort long enough to glimpse its function.

Similarly, the coach’s practice of ‘Intentional Disruption’, deliberately surfacing contradictions, challenging narratives or inviting stretch, may invite the leaders capacity to welcome and work with real challenge. The coach’s challenge only becomes developmental if the leader experiences it as an opportunity for growth rather than as threat or judgement. With CP5, for example, I had to time the challenge carefully, just enough to provoke reflection without triggering shame. These micro-choices, made in the moment, activated his emerging capacity to test his beliefs and stay open under pressure.

Perhaps most tangibly, ‘Iterative Experimentation’ on the part of the coach, designing small, actionable and safe to fail experiments, can coincide with the leaders willingness to ‘Run Micro- Experiments’. We see the action methodological foundation of the framework. Experimentation only becomes meaningful if it is enacted, observed and refined in real world contexts. Many of the experiments described in section 7.8 were co-designed live in session, sometimes as a scribbled flowchart, sometimes as a verbal rehearsal. My role was to hold the structure lightly, leaving room for the leader to adapt or reshape it once in practice.

Each of the seven ‘Self’ stance practices reflects a leaders willingness to engage in their own transformation not simply by acquiring new knowledge but by enacting new behaviours, inhabiting new mindsets and reflecting with increasing autonomy. Yet none of these practices arose in isolation from the coaching relationship. My presence, stance and timing formed the backdrop, sometimes the catalyst, for these moves to emerge.

What emerges is not a hierarchical model of coach doing to leader it is a relational model of doing with. The interplay between ‘Other’ and ‘Self’ becomes a kind of developmental dynamic in which mutual awareness, responsiveness and experimentation form the rhythm of sustainable change. This reciprocity is at the heart of what I believe coaching can become as a shared field of research and transformation rather than a delivery mechanism for expertise or solutions.

7.13 Reflexive commentary my role as researcher coach

Working with CP4, CP5 and CP6 required continuous attention to my own internal processes as much as to theirs. Each coaching relationship surfaced moments where my emotional responses risked subtly influencing the alliance through over-identification, avoidance or unconscious enactment. These instances became key sites of reflexive inquiry, directly engaging RQ5, which explores how my positioning as researcher-coach shapes the effectiveness of interventions aimed at bridging the insight-to-action gap. In practice this meant exploring not only what I did but how I was present in the room, what I held, challenged or withheld, moment by moment.

With CP4, I sensed a pull in the relational field, a wish for me to ease the tension whenever she struggled to stay with discomfort during emotionally charged conversations. Her conflict-avoidant pattern invited me toward the role of rescuer, projecting an expectation that I would reassure her that she was acceptable and the “good one” in the situation. Recognising this dynamic became a test of containment. I chose to stay with the tension and remain fully present rather than collude with her avoidance or step in to make things easier. This was an act of ‘Relational Field Awareness and Containment’, holding space for her emerging awareness while regulating her desire for me to rescue or soothe her. By withholding comfort and trusting her capacity to face discomfort, I created developmental stretch that allowed her to strengthen her own ability to remain in tension rather than rely on me for emotional regulation.

My work with CP5 surfaced a different reflex. At times I noticed a flicker of impatience when he rationalised controlling behaviours or deflected responsibility with polished justifications. Instead of suppressing this feeling I practised ‘Reflexive Use of Self’, bringing my embodied response into the coaching field as data. I interpreted the tension as possible counter-transference linked to his early experiences of authority. During one session I said, “I notice a tension in me, and I’m wondering if your team might be feeling something similar.” Naming this response enabled him to reflect on his impact without defensiveness and allowed me to move from reactivity to deliberate relational use of the moment. It was not a confrontation but an instance of ‘Narrative Attunement’, mirroring the dissonance he had not yet articulated in a way that opened, rather than defended, the space between us.

With CP6, her presence and strategic intellect occasionally left me feeling peripheral in the conversation, echoing the dynamic she experienced with the founder who routinely bypassed her authority. This was an example of ‘Systemic Orientation’ in practice, noticing how organisational power dynamics were being replayed live between us. Recognising the parallel, I explored my own sense of being overshadowed and resisted the impulse to assert control or withdraw. Instead, I named the experience lightly, saying, “I’m finding it difficult to find the purpose of my role today,” as a way of modelling reflexive transparency and inviting her to notice the live relational dynamic. This openness created a moment of shared vulnerability that allowed her to reflect on the processes of de-authorisation operating both within the organisation and within our relationship. It shifted the emotional field and deepened the work.

Across these engagements I came to understand that the ‘Other’ stance is not a set of techniques to be applied to a leader but a relational discipline, an embodied practice of awareness, containment and attuned intervention. Through this ongoing reflexive process I recognised that the ‘Self’ stance emerged not as something consciously enacted by the leaders but as a lens for understanding the developmental movements we co-created. My effectiveness as a coach was inseparable from my willingness to remain open to learning in the moment, to notice when I was drawn into enactments and to use those responses in service of the work. Moments of discomfort or reactivity became doorways, not only into their development but also into mine.

Rather than seeking detached neutrality I aimed to be an engaged, reflexive participant in a co- created field of transformation. In this way, the relational quality of the coaching alliance, shaped as much by my presence as by my practice, became a central mechanism for enabling shifts from insight to action. The Self stance did not arise in spite of me or as a theoretical construct, but in complement to how I showed up; present, fallible and with a willingness to work in the unknown.

7.14 Path to the Relational Arc Framework

This chapter has demonstrated that bridging the insight-to-action gap depends on a co-created interplay between the coach’s ‘Other’ stance and the leaders’ emerging ‘Self’ stance. The analysis provides evidence for RQ1 and RQ2, showing that transformation arises from a shared relational practice. Across these cases learning occurred through mutual influence as coach and leader worked within the relational field. The leaders were active co-creators, experimenting with new behaviours, confronting long-standing defences and internalising change within the safety of our alliance. My stance as researcher-coach both influenced and was influenced by these processes, confirming that developmental movement is reciprocal and relational. Together these insights establish the foundation of the Relational Arc Framework, which formalises how learning emerges through the ongoing interplay of both stances.

These findings prepare the way for Chapter 8, where the Relational Arc Framework is introduced and explored. In that chapter I introduce theample to show how this dynamic interplay unfolded in practice and how transformation arose within the relational field. This synthesis brings together the conceptual threads of my thesis into a coherent model of transformational leadership coaching that demonstrates how mutual learning and co-authored change can be sustained across diverse organisational contexts.

Chapter 8 Discussion and conclusion

8.0 Seeing differently from within

At the close of a coaching journey, it is natural to want to press for final answers, to reach a sense of resolution as though the learning were complete. However, the work of coaching rarely ends in this way. Instead, the closing conversation creates space for sense making, a chance to integrate insights while also recognising what remains to be explored. My final chapter serves as my synthesis. I bring together the iterative practices and insights explored throughout my thesis into a co-creative framework, the Relational Arc. When the leaders (in phase 4) and I engaged through integrative and complementary practices what emerged is a framework that illustrates how each of my acts of holding, disruption or experimentation enabled a corresponding shift in the leaders stance and vice versa. I experienced that with each new insight, each experiment and each reflective moment in the coaching process, something changes, nothing ever remains the same. The learning that occurred is a result of what happened within this Relational Arc.

As a I am nearing the end of my research, a different kind of reflection has emerged. I am asking myself, not only what has been happening but, what does it all add up to? What have I learned about myself and the systems I am part of? How have the patterns that shape both insight and action become clearer? This chapter marks the close of my research as an opportunity for me to make and articulate the meaning of all of this.

As I look across the arc of my research and I return to my research questions through the lens of my experience, drawing together what the literature helped me to clarify, how the methods guided me, what I observed in my own coaching practice, how I listened to the experienced coaches and leaders through the interviews and what they shared with me and what I discovered by experiencing a new way of coaching. My aim is to triangulate all that I have collected to surface the shifts that meant something, the tensions that endured and the points at which new understanding emerged. Some changes were subtle, some were insightful, and others still feel incomplete. Much like the end of a coaching engagement, this chapter does not tie everything up neatly. Instead, it invites me, as researcher-coach, to reflect on what feels true now, to name the questions that remain and to recognise this moment not as a definitive conclusion but as a transition from one cycle of research to the next.

This final chapter does not resolve the insight-to-action gap outright. However, it does make a significant shift in how I have come to understand that gap, how I have consciously experienced it in practice and how I might continue working with it. In closing this cycle of research, I feel that I am opening up new opportunities with more clarity, with new questions and a deeper commitment to staying with whatever unfolds next.

This chapter discusses the findings in relation to the refined research questions and situates the study’s contribution within the broader coaching literature. Through synthesising findings across the research questions, the study generated a set of higher-order insights that were subsequently formalised as the Relational Arc framework, which is introduced and elaborated in this chapter.

8.1 The relational arc of coaching led change

With these reflections in mind, I return to the central question that shaped my research: why do leaders, despite gaining meaningful insights through coaching, often struggle to translate those realisations into sustained behavioural change?

Across the preceding chapters, I have explored what I term the insight-to-action gap, the recurring pattern in leadership development where heightened self-awareness does not consistently lead to new behaviours. This concept is related to, but distinct from, the knowing-doing gap described by Pfeffer and Sutton (1999) and, more recently, to the leadership knowing-doing gap identified by Ahmadi and Vogel (2023). My framing emphasises the relational, biological, and action-oriented processes that influence how personal insights gained in coaching are, or are not, embedded in everyday leadership practice.

In practice, leaders continue to face the reality of a knowing-doing gap that is rarely straightforward. It stretches across thinking, feeling, relating, and acting (Ahmadi & Vogel 2023). In coaching conversations, this tension is visible in the struggle to turn awareness into behaviour, to move from reflection to new action (Jarosz & Cartor 2025). Research across leadership and coaching suggests that closing this gap requires more than motivation or skill; it calls for approaches that engage leaders as whole people, working across cognition, emotion, and context (Ahmadi & Vogel 2023; Jarosz & Cartor 2025; Gerhat 2025).

Drawing on insights from systems psychodynamics (SP), neuroscience (NS) and action methodologies (AM), I evolved through my research a coaching stance that is both reflexive and pragmatic, one that aims to meet leaders in the complexity of their lived experience and supports them in enacting change under real-world conditions. Contemporary empirical studies have provided further evidence for the effectiveness of such integrative practice-led approaches (Gerhat 2025).

• (SP) surfaces unconscious defences, emotional patterns and relational dynamics that resist change and perpetuate the status quo (Cilliers & Henning 2021; Mayer & Oosthuizen 2022; McComb & Barnard 2024). This aligns with Kegan and Lahey’s theory of immunity to change, which argues that leaders often harbour hidden, competing commitments that counteract their explicit goals (Kegan & Lahey 2009). Making these implicit narratives explicit through coaching, as demonstrated in recent (SP) research, helps challenge the psychological attachments that impede behavioural transformation (Mayer & Oosthuizen 2022; Cilliers & Henning 2021; McComb & Barnard 2024). By uncovering and working through these unconscious dynamics in a reflective coaching relationship, leaders are better able to move beyond entrenched patterns, paving the way for genuine and lasting behavioural change. As we have been uncovering, insight alone is not sufficient. The ability to translate new awareness into different behaviour requires more than recognition of hidden dynamics. This is where the (NS) of habits becomes crucial.
• (NS) reveals how entrenched neural habits and stress responses can override even the best intentions. Under stress, the brain tends to revert to habitual, familiar responses, prioritising psychological safety over embracing the unknown (Ochsner et al. 2002; Graybiel 2008). From a (NS) lens insight must be embodied. Without methods to retrain neural pathways, such as techniques to down-regulate amygdala reactivity or create new associations, even leaders who intellectually understand what to change may revert to old habits in practice. The mind may aspire to new behaviours, but the brain can operate on autopilot in the absence of conscious intervention (Graybiel 2008; Goleman et al. 2009; Ruiz Rodriguez et al. 2023). As we have also seen, even when leaders gain insight and become aware of their neural patterns, change is not guaranteed. To consolidate learning and make it durable, leaders must have opportunities to practise new behaviours in real contexts. This is where the (AM) lens becomes essential.
• (AM) provide structured experimentation and learning through action. This approach challenges the notion that insight necessarily precedes change, suggesting that action itself can generate insight and that enduring change arises through iterative experiments. Revans’ principle, “There can be no learning without action and no action without learning” (2011 p. 12), underpins this orientation. Recent empirical findings affirm the efficacy of action-based coaching. For instance, Nicolau et al. (2023) demonstrated that coaching had the greatest behavioural impact when leaders were supported to experiment with new actions between sessions (Gerhat 2025). The contribution of (AM) therefore sits alongside the insights of (SP) and (NS). While (SP) surfaces the hidden dynamics that hold leaders back and (NS) explains the pull of ingrained habits, (AM) provides the practice ground where new patterns can take hold. Lasting change depends on all three working together.

By bringing these frameworks together, I refined and applied an integrated coaching stance that holds the tension between psychological safety and purposeful challenge and between reflection and activation. This integrative stance first took shape in my reflexivity (Chapter 6), where I stepped back from the initial cases and recognised the need for a different approach. In response to earlier findings, such as leaders gaining insight during Phase 1 of my research (Chapter 4) with limited transfer and interviewees in Phases 2 and 3 of my research (Chapter 5) voicing similar struggles, I consciously evolved the ‘Other’ stance. This stance, introduced in section 6.5.1, was my evolved coaching practice, an approach deliberately designed to bridge the gap by integrating (SP), (NS) and (AM) in practice. It meant:

• contracting with leaders at the outset that our coaching would involve deeper exploration and active experimentation,
• holding a safe emotional space while also disrupting comfortable patterns,
• introducing simple (NS) explanations to normalise their experiences, • actively working with the coach-leader relationship (using transference dynamics as a mirror to their leadership patterns), and
• maintaining a reflexive awareness of my own influence in the process.

Through these practices, I aimed to create a coaching environment where insight would not only remain a meaningful idea but would translate into embodied action.

When I experimented with the ‘Other’ stance with three new leaders in Phase 4 of my research (Chapter 7), I observed something equally important emerge on the leader side, what I now term the ‘Self’ stance. As I deliberately held the tension between holding and challenge and between insight and action, the leaders themselves became more active participants in their development. They were not passive recipients of coaching. They began to demonstrate an empowered, engaged stance toward their own growth, reflecting deeply, experimenting with new behaviours, even resisting or debating with me at times (which I associated with their agency) and adapting their approaches. In hindsight, each coaching move I made invited a corresponding move from the leader. The coach- leader relationship became a dynamic exchange. The ‘Other’ (coach) and the ‘Self’ (leader) working in relation to produce change. Together, they formed two halves of what I now conceptualise as the ‘Relational Arc’ of coaching-led change.

This represents the conceptual synthesis of my research. The Relational Arc Framework brings together the two stances developed through my research, the coach’s ‘Other’ stance and the leaders ‘Self’ stance, to show how transformation emerges in the space between them and through their interaction. Each stance contributes a distinct yet interdependent set of practices that, when held in relation, create the conditions for genuine behavioural change. Table 8.1 presents seven illustrative coach-leader interactions (examples only) drawn from the broader conceptual 7 × 7 Relational Arc matrix. These examples demonstrate how a coach practice from the ‘Other’ stance can invite a corresponding practice from the leader’s ‘Self’ stance through the relational dynamic between them.

Table 8.1 The Relational Arc Framework: illustrating dynamic interactions between the ‘Other’ and ‘Self’ stances

Each of the following thematic domains explores one research question in detail, drawing on evidence from case studies, interviews, and reflexive analysis:

● Thematic Domain 1 (RQ1): The coaching alliance and its impact on behavioural transfer

● Thematic Domain 2 (RQ2): The role of unconscious defence mechanisms in sustaining habitual behaviours

● Thematic Domain 3 (RQ3): The effect of neural habit loops and stress responses on transformation

● Thematic Domain 4 (RQ4): The value and limitations of integrating (SP), (NS) and (AM) in coaching

● Thematic Domain 5 (RQ5): The influence of the coach’s positioning on bridging insight and action

Each domain is examined below, with supporting evidence drawn from the full spectrum of research data.

8.2.1 The coaching alliance and behavioural transfer

One central finding is that the quality of the coaching alliance significantly shapes whether insight is carried into sustained action. A strong coaching alliance, characterised by trust, rapport and a shared commitment to the work, creates conditions for the leader to explore deep issues while also being stretched to test new behaviours. From a (SP) lens, the alliance offers a holding environment that contains anxieties and supports exploration. (NS) shows that a trusting relational bond reduces threat responses in the brain, enabling leaders to stay open and reflective. (AM) highlights the importance of purposeful challenge and structured follow through, without it the alliance can slide into a comfortable holding pattern where insight accumulates but behaviour remains unchanged. In other words, the coaching relationship is not just a benign container for growth, it can also become a space where coach and leader unconsciously collude in staying with insight (talk) and avoiding the discomfort of change (action). Empirical research has shown that the coaching alliance can either disrupt habitual patterns or inadvertently stabilise them depending on how the coach manages the balance between support and challenge (Baron & Morin 2010; Gessnitzer & Kauffeld 2015; de Haan et al. 2016).

My findings strongly reinforce this dynamic tension. In the early coaching cases of Phase 1 of my research (Chapter 4), I provided a predominantly reflective space. While this facilitated candid self- awareness for the leader (a positive outcome), the resulting insights did not consistently translate into sustained behaviour change in practice. For example, CP2 articulated meaningful insights about her leadership style and achieved a new level of self-awareness, however for most of our engagement she struggled to act on these realisations, frequently revisiting the same organisational frustrations without building momentum beyond the coaching room. It was only toward the end of coaching that she reframed her narrative and recognised that leaving the organisation was necessary for her to lead differently.

By contrast, in the later integrative engagements of Phase 4 (Chapter 7), I consciously calibrated my stance to pair empathy and holding with gentle provocation and structured follow up. With CP4, for instance, we co-designed a small experiment in which she agreed to hold a team member accountable for an underperformance issue she had been avoiding. This tested an insight gained in session (“I avoid difficult conversations to maintain harmony”) by bringing it directly into a live workplace context.

With CP5, we co-created a challenge to try a new behaviour (letting a team member make a decision without his input) in a stressful situation between sessions and added accountability check-ins at the start of each meeting. Crucially, CP5 developed an implementation intention to support this challenge when he said “If I feel the itch to jump in…. I’ll have a sip of water.” This was paired with a thirty second reset practice in which he would lean back, release his shoulders and exhale before responding when he felt pressure to control. These specific cognitive and somatic anchors provided him with an embodied ‘pause point’ that helped interrupt the micromanagement reflex and re- engage reflective choice. CP5 responded positively to these challenges, and they helped him translate reflection into tangible shifts in behaviour. Both leaders later reported that the combination of safety and stretch in our alliance enabled them to act with more confidence and consistency between sessions.

The interview data supported these observations. Several participants noted that an overly supportive coach, if they never nudged the leader toward action, could lead to insight fatigue, an accumulation of “aha” moments with little change to show for it. As one coach interviewee admitted, “I realised I had created such a safe space that my leader felt too comfortable staying in exploration mode. I had to start pushing him out of the nest.” Similarly, a leader interviewee recalled a previous coach who was “very understanding” but did not help translate that understanding into plans, “Nothing much actually changed, I just understood myself better.” These descriptions affirm that the coaching alliance is most effective when it functions as both a holding space and a catalyst, supporting leaders through vulnerability while also encouraging and scaffolding experimentation (Gessnitzer & Kauffeld 2015; de Haan et al. 2016).

The alliance must allow difficult emotions and fears to be aired, so they do not remain unspoken barriers, and insist on forward movement so that insight finds expression in new practice. In my integrated approach, I achieved this by explicitly contracting with leaders that we would move to action and by making our relationship one of active co-creation and not just analysis. As a result, the alliance itself became a vehicle for change, a safe base from which the leader could test new behaviours, drawing on (SP) for holding, (NS) for reducing fear-based reactivity and (AM) for scaffolding practical experiments, knowing I was there to support and challenge in equal measure (Baron & Morin 2010; de Haan et al. 2016).

8.2.2 Unconscious defence mechanisms and habitual behaviours

My research confirms that unconscious defences and internalised narratives significantly influence how leaders respond to coaching, especially when a prospective behaviour change threatens some aspect of their identity or sense of security. This interpretation is triangulated across the Phase 1 and Phase 4 coaching cases (Chapters 4 and 7), the coach and leader interviews (Chapter 5), and my reflexive journal (Chapter 6), where comparable defensive moves and relational patterns recur when change touches belonging, competence, or safety. This phenomenon is well documented in (SP) coaching literature, which demonstrates how unconscious processes sustain entrenched patterns until surfaced and explored in a coaching context (Cilliers 2005; Motsoaledi & Cilliers 2012).

Across multiple cases, leaders unknowingly maintained behaviours that protected them from psychodynamic risks, even when those behaviours ran counter to their stated goals. For example, in CP5’s coaching, he repeatedly defaulted to micromanaging his team. On the surface, he justified this as “being thorough”; however, through a (SP) lens it became clear this was partly a defence against the fear of being judged by others. By keeping control, he shielded himself from the anxiety that someone else’s mistakes would reflect poorly on him, a fear deeply grounded in early work experiences (Motsoaledi & Cilliers 2012).

Similarly, CP4 initially avoided difficult performance conversations with her direct reports. She had internalised an early narrative equating conflict with personal rejection, so her habit of staying excessively ‘nice’ was a defence against the anxiety of being disliked, a pattern consistent with unconscious defences described in executive coaching research (Cilliers 2005).

(SP) provided a valuable lens for identifying and working with such defences. Empirical studies have shown that techniques such as symbolic drawing exercises, guided reflections on formative experiences, and exploring parallel processes in the coach-leader relationship are effective for surfacing the emotional logic that rational analysis alone cannot reach (Motsoaledi & Cilliers 2012; Cilliers 2005). In many cases, leaders were only able to experiment with new behaviours after the previously unconscious attachments underpinning their current behaviours were acknowledged.

They first needed to recognise what function their old habit was serving before being able to release it.

This finding aligns with Kegan and Lahey’s (2001) work on competing commitments, which suggests that many failed change efforts stem from unconscious commitments that make individuals ‘immune to change.’ For example, a leader may consciously want to delegate more but unconsciously avoid delegation to protect themselves from feelings of inadequacy (Kegan & Lahey 2001). My data highlighted that maintaining ‘stuck’ behaviours (like CP4’s conflict avoidance or CP5’s over control) served psychodynamic needs, such as feeling safe, competent or accepted, and that unless those needs were surfaced and addressed, efforts at behavioural change were likely to falter.

Importantly, this awareness also applied to my own practice as coach. Reflexive analysis revealed moments where I colluded with leader defences, for instance, softening or avoiding uncomfortable challenges based on my assessment of the leaders or organisations readiness for change, which inadvertently reinforced avoidance (Passmore & Sinclair 2024). A parallel process (where the coach’s responses mirror the leaders patterns) is a recognised feature in (SP) coaching and calls for the coach’s willingness to engage in reflexivity and real time adjustment during the process (Motsoaledi & Cilliers 2012). In learning to recognise and disrupt these moments, for example, by naming the tension, pausing or choosing not to collude, I was able to encourage leaders to confront and move beyond their habitual scripts.

Unconscious defences therefore emerged as a major factor in the insight-to-action gap. Leaders may know cognitively what needs to change but still feel (often implicitly) that new behaviours threaten their self-image or emotional equilibrium. Bringing to light those hidden fears and narratives was often the necessary precondition for sustainable change (Cilliers 2005). These findings answer RQ2 by demonstrating that tackling the insight-to-action gap requires working at the level of unconscious meaning and not just with conscious strategies (Kegan & Lahey 2001; Motsoaledi & Cilliers 2012; Passmore & Sinclair 2024).

8.2.3 Neural habit formation and stress responses

Integrating a (NS) perspective added further depth to the findings by showing that even when a leader has insight and emotional readiness, deeply embedded habit loops and acute stress triggers can still override their best intentions (Schwabe & Wolf 2013; Graybiel & Grafton 2015). In other words, the mind may be willing, but the brain may have its own autopilot (Graybiel & Grafton 2015). This pattern was especially evident with CP4. Despite her clear intellectual commitment to setting better boundaries (she knew she needed to say “no” more often), she found herself repeatedly reverting to people pleasing behaviours in moments of stress. These regressions were not due to lack of motivation or sincerity. Rather, under perceived threat, her brain was quickly defaulting to well- worn circuits that had been forged by years of prior experience (Graybiel & Grafton 2015). In CP4’s case, early life lessons taught her that being accommodating earned approval and that challenging others led to punishment or conflict. That learning lived not just in her mind but in her nervous system. When a high stakes situation triggered anxiety her amygdala and related neural pathways tend to respond faster than reflective processes, pulling her back into the familiar appeasing response before deliberate choice could intervene (Schwabe & Wolf 2013; LeDoux & Pine 2016).

To engage with these biological forces, I introduced stress regulation tools and habit interruption practices into the coaching. With CP6 for example I suggested a simple somatic practice so that when she felt the impulse to immediately accommodate a request, she would take a deliberate ninety second pause and do a few deep breaths before responding. Research shows that such a pause can allow the acute stress response to peak and begin to subside which supports the re-engagement of prefrontal regulation (LeDoux & Pine 2016). This principle has been demonstrated in meditation research (Lutz et al. 2008) and discussed in more recent neurophenomenological reviews (Lutz et al. 2025). LeDoux and Pine (2016) also indicate that most intense emotional reactions last around ninety seconds unless they are sustained through continued rumination. CP6 found that if she slowed her breath and counted to ninety before saying “yes” to a last-minute demand she could interrupt her reflex and make a more conscious choice.

Alongside this we implemented ‘if-then’ plans which are based on the principle of implementation intentions to install new responses in place of the old habit. For example, CP6 decided that “If I feel pressured to take on more work, then I will politely explain what I have on my plate and suggest an alternative timeline.” Similarly, CP5’s earlier use of an ‘if-then’ plan (“If I feel the itch to jump in…. I’ll have a sip of water instead”) paired with his ‘30 second’ reset routine demonstrated how cognitive and somatic strategies can work together to bridge insight and action. His practice of leaning back and exhaling served as a physical interrupt to the stress impulse, allowing the reflective brain time to re-engage. These ‘if-then’ plans gave her a pre-prepared alternative behaviour when the trigger arrived rather than leaving her to rely on willpower in the tension of the moment (Gollwitzer & Oettingen 2011).

Other interventions that blended (NS) and (SP) was also effective. In CP6’s case her ability to experiment improved when we shifted the framing of her goal from a negative “stop over accommodating others” to a positive “create a culture of candour.” This reframing tapped into her aspirational self and reduced the sense of threat in the change. Boyatzis et al. (2015) report that focusing on an inspiring ideal self-activates brain activity associated with openness and learning whereas a deficit focus can elicit defensiveness. Practically, by encouraging CP6 to see boundary setting not as denying others but as an expression of authentic leadership we helped her experience the new behaviour as rewarding and aligned with her growth. While neural change was not measured these shifts are consistent with neuroplasticity descriptions of habit formation under conditions of reduced threat and enhanced approach motivation.

Importantly these (NS) informed techniques did not operate in isolation they reinforced the psychodynamic work already underway. By normalising the physiological aspect “it is not just that you are failing to change, your brain is wired this way and can be retrained” some of CP6’s self-blame and shame was alleviated. The interviews reiterated the value of this approach. Both a coach interviewee and a leader interviewee in Phases 2 and 3 of my research (Chapter 5) noted that stress often caused regression into old behaviours which reinforced the need for tools that support nervous system regulation in coaching. As one coach put it “When things got heated all our coaching plans went out the window until we addressed how she calmed herself.” The (NS) lens in this context helps demystify why regression happens. It provides a grounded explanation that makes the experience of ‘choking under pressure’ more understandable by showing that under acute stress the prefrontal cortex which supports reasoning can be temporarily impaired as the amygdala drives defensive responses (Schwabe & Wolf 2013; LeDoux & Pine 2016).

This understanding supports the design of what I frame as repatterning practices such as ‘if-then’ plans, mindfulness pauses, or biofeedback exercises that leaders can apply at the moment of choice (Lutz et al. 2008; Gollwitzer & Oettingen 2011; Lutz et al. 2025). By the end of CP6’s coaching she had developed a suite of practical habits which included pausing and breathing before responding, checking her assumptions and using prepared phrases to say “no” constructively. She was applying these during stressful interactions. Over time these responses began to feel easier and more automatic which is consistent with descriptions of habit reinforcement and neuroplasticity in the literature (Lally et al. 2010; Graybiel & Grafton 2015; Boyatzis et al. 2015).

Triangulation across phases reinforced this pattern. In the earlier Phase 1 cases (CP1-CP3), insight into emotional and relational patterns often remained conceptual; without explicit self-regulation tools, behavioural change faltered when stress re-emerged. Interview data from Chapter 5 reinforced this, with both coaches and leaders noting that stress narrowed reflective capacity and that simple embodied anchors, a breath, a pause, or an ‘if-then’ cue, helped sustain agency in demanding moments. These neurobiological insights gained traction only when paired with (SP) awareness and ‘Iterative Experimentation’, confirming that neural repatterning is not an isolated process but one interwoven with narrative and behavioural practice. This directly addresses RQ3 by showing that coaching interventions incorporating (NS)-informed stress regulation and implementation intentions increase behavioural sustainability.

Engaging with the biology of habits therefore added a crucial layer to bridging the insight-to-action gap by addressing the practical question of “How do I stop myself from reflexively doing the old thing when I am under pressure.”

8.2.4 Comparative benefits and limitations of integrating (SP), (NS) and (AM)

A major insight of my research is that each theoretical framework, (SP), (NS), and (AM), addresses different yet overlapping barriers to change, and their combined use is more effective than employing any one exclusively. The strength of an integrative approach lies not in choosing between them but in weaving them together so limitations in one area are offset by contributions from another. This integration strengthens the conditions for insight to be transformed into action (Boyatzis et al. 2015; Passmore & Sinclair 2024). By exploring their interplay in practice, I observed unique strengths and challenges in each approach.

(SP) can illuminate the unconscious emotional and relational dynamics that keep leadership patterns entrenched and, when (SP) is sufficiently engaged it can release the energy for new behaviour (Cilliers 2005; Cilliers & Shongwe 2020; Cilliers & Henning 2021). In the (Phase 1) coaching sessions, however, I noticed that insight alone did not always move leaders into action. I realise now that when I remained primarily at the level of interpretation and meaning making behaviour changes did not occur (de Haan et al. 2020; Ahmadi & Vogel 2023). This reflects how I applied (SP) at that stage in two ways. First it was doing to the leader and not with the leader and second it prompted me to work with the leader to incorporate more co-creation of action design alongside (SP) techniques. My experience showed that (SP) insights were strengthened when combined with the biological grounding provided by (NS) and the structured practice encouraged by (AM).

(NS) explains habit persistence and stress effects in a tangible way, grounding the change process in biological processes (Graybiel & Grafton 2015; LeDoux & Pine 2016). Using (NS) principles helped design techniques (as described earlier) to shift ingrained responses. On its own, a purely neuroscientific or behavioural approach risks becoming mechanistic, reducing leadership growth to conditioned triggers and routines while overlooking the personal meaning and emotional significance behind those behaviours (LeDoux & Pine 2016). Without understanding the leaders narrative (the ‘why’), rewiring habits alone risks missing purpose. Therefore, (NS) requires the human contextualisation that (SP) provides, and the repeated practice fostered by (AM) to ensure biological shifts are reinforced in meaningful ways.

(AM) contributes energy, structure, and real-world behavioural practice. It ensures coaching produces tangible experiments and behavioural rehearsal essential for skill transfer (Cho & Egan 2009; James & Stacey-Emile 2019). This reflects the broader action learning literature, which emphasises that doing is a critical driver of learning (Marquardt 2004). In my coaching, explicitly assigning and reviewing real-world experiments operationalised this principle. However, an (AM) heavy approach alone can overlook emotional undercurrents or deeper resistance. It can impose a flurry of tasks, “try this, now try that”, that a leader may undertake without internalising them or may push a leader to act before addressing inner barriers, leading to superficial compliance. Without integrating insight from (SP) on why certain actions feel difficult and without (NS)-informed tools to regulate automatic stress responses, action for action’s sake can miss the mark (Cho & Egan 2009; Michie et al. 2011).

In the integrated Phase 4 coaching (CP4-CP6), layering these lenses produced a more responsive and flexible approach. For example, (SP) work helped identify how CP4’s desire to maintain relational harmony led her to avoid conflict and hold onto tasks, a defence pattern consistent with (SP) research showing how conflict avoidance and over-accommodation often operate as unconscious strategies to preserve belonging in organisational systems (Cilliers 2005; Cilliers & Shongwe 2020). (NS) highlighted how her heart rate and muscle tension spiked when she anticipated publicly disagreeing, illustrating social threat’s activation of limbic arousal and reduction of cognitive flexibility under stress (Graybiel & Grafton 2015; LeDoux & Pine 2016). Using affect labelling to name her emotional state helped down-regulate amygdala activity and restore reflective capacity (Lieberman et al. 2007; Torre & Lieberman 2018). (AM) then introduced low-stakes behavioural experiments, such as initiating one ‘mini-conflict- per week by voicing a respectful alternative view in meetings, facilitating her practice of assertiveness in psychologically safe increments (Marquardt 2004; Cho & Egan 2009). This combination, surfacing relational fear, calming nervous system triggers, and rehearsing new behaviours in real-world experiments, enabled genuine, sustained movement from insight-to-action.

Similarly, CP5’s breakthroughs did not emerge from any single lens in isolation but from the interplay of emotional insight, physiological regulation, and structured experimentation (Boyatzis et al. 2015; Passmore & Sinclair 2024). (SP) work helped uncover early professional experiences that shaped his unconscious association between failure and shame, a dynamic frequently described in (SP) coaching as a defensive pattern driving overcontrol and perfectionism (Cilliers & May 2010). (NS) principles supported the introduction of breath and somatic regulation techniques, helping him recognise and interrupt the physiological stress cascade triggering his impulse to micromanage (Davidson & McEwen 2012; LeDoux & Pine 2016). (AM) methods translated insights into practice through low- stakes behavioural experiments, such as speaking last in meetings or allowing a colleague to present without his edits, reinforcing new habits through repeated real-world rehearsal (Marquardt 2004; Cho & Egan 2009). The integration of these approaches, linking awareness of unconscious drivers with physiological regulation and deliberate experimentation, created conditions for sustainable change unlikely through any single modality alone.

Overall, the integrative stance enabled me to work across multiple layers of resistance, helping leaders not only see differently but also feel and act differently under pressure. The shift from insight-to-action became more consistent when interventions addressed psychodynamic, physiological, and behavioural dimensions in combination. In the integrated cases, leaders made sustained changes by attending simultaneously to their inner dramas, stress responses, and behavioural patterns. This directly addresses RQ4 by demonstrating the comparative value of an integrated approach. While (SP), (NS), and (AM) each added important contributions, their synthesis in practice most reliably narrowed the insight-action gap. At the same time, this approach posed challenges, requiring coaches to be conversant in multiple paradigms and agile in transitioning between them. Nonetheless, findings suggest such effort increases the likelihood of lasting change, aligning with prior evidence that behavioural shifts are most sustainable when psychodynamic, physiological, and practical dimensions are addressed together (Michie et al. 2011; Boyatzis et al. 2015; Passmore & Sinclair 2024).

8.2.5 Influence of researcher-coach positionality

This research highlights how my own positioning and reflexivity as a coach shaped the conditions through which insight could become action (Bachkirova & Smith 2015; Hullinger et al. 2019; Lawrence 2021; Yip 2024). RQ5 explored how the researcher-coach’s personal and theoretical stance influenced the effectiveness of interventions aimed at bridging the gap. Through the reflexive inquiry in Chapter 6, I recognised that my personal narrative, particularly an early experience of ‘Other’ness, influenced how I engaged in the coaching relationship (Yip 2024). This perspective allowed me to notice subtle dynamics and surface underlying patterns that were shaping the work. I often shared these observations and invited leaders to explore and test them in dialogue. Over time, I learned to bring these interventions with greater attention to timing and follow-through, ensuring that emerging insight was supported by structure and practice so that it could take hold in action (de Haan et al. 2020).

As my research progressed, I worked with greater intentionality in how I adjusted my stance within and across sessions. I became more fluid in moving between holding space for deep emotional work and inviting movement toward action and accountability (de Haan et al. 2020; Erdos & Ramseyer 2021). My coaching evolved from being primarily reflective, encouraging the leaders self-inquiry, to being reflexive, with continuous attention to how my own presence, assumptions and choices were interacting with the leaders process (Bachkirova & Smith 2015; Hullinger et al. 2019; Lawrence 2021). In one case, I recognised that a focus on exploring meaning could be strengthened by translating emerging awareness into practical experimentation. For that leader, I introduced more action- oriented approaches to help embed new understanding in daily practice. In another instance, I gave greater attention to timing feedback so that it could land when the leader was most receptive and ready to integrate it (de Haan 2019; Yip 2024).

Earlier in my thesis in Chapter 6 I questioned my own practice, now I can more confidently articulate it as a deliberate ‘Other’ stance. Being reflexive about my own patterns allowed me to refine what I term the ‘Other’ stance, a coaching stance that holds difference and depth while actively inviting movement (Yip 2024). Leaders, I found, responded not only to what I did, the tools or techniques, but to how I was being in the relationship. When I embodied an authentic stance that modelled both self-examination and willingness to experiment it invited them to do the same. For example, at one point I shared a brief story of how I personally had to practise delegating a critical task in my own life, thus modelling vulnerability and action. The leader CP5 later said that made him realise, “This is not just homework for me, even my coach does this work.” The authenticity of bringing my reflexive self, appropriately, into the coaching enhanced the credibility of the process in the leaders eyes, it was not just theory, it was lived (Stelter 2014).

It appeared that my shift in stance, holding both readiness and stretch, contributed to these leaders’ progress. These outcomes may also have been influenced by factors such as the leaders’ readiness, the organisational context, or the level of support available to them from their wider system. However, the contrast with earlier cases suggests that the integrative ‘Other’ stance was an important enabler of change. This aligns with de Haan’s (2019) finding that coaching outcomes are co-created through the coach leader relationship, not the coach’s actions alone. In other words, the way I was being with the leader, authentically balancing support and challenge, mattered as much as what I was doing.

These five domains show that leadership transformation is shaped by a complex interplay of emotional history, biological constraint, behavioural design and relational process (Erdos & Ramseyer 2021). Sustained change occurs not by addressing just one of these elements, but by holding them in conscious integration through a coaching stance that is psychodynamicly attuned, biologically informed and behaviourally scaffolded (Bachkirova & Smith 2015; Yip 2024). By applying such an integrative stance across multiple cases and triangulating with interviews and my own reflections, my research demonstrates that insight, while essential, is not enough. What matters is how insight is held, unlocked, reinforced and enacted through the coaching process (Bachkirova & Smith 2015; de Haan et al. 2020). For the leaders I coached in my research, meaningful change was co-created. It emerged from a relational arc between the coach’s stance and the leaders stance rather than from either party’s efforts alone (de Haan 2019; Erdos & Ramseyer 2021). Each coaching intervention I made invited a complementary response from the leader. When the coach and leader were both fully engaged, the coach providing both safety and stretch and the leader bringing openness and agency, meaningful change became possible in practice.

In working through my research questions, I can see that my findings carry broader implications. I now reflect on how they contribute to coaching knowledge, inform practice in organisations, and suggest opportunities for future research.

8.3 Conceptual and methodological contributions

In this section, the core insights from this practice-led research are synthesised to articulate both the conceptual and methodological contributions of an integrated (SP), (NS) and (AM) approach to leadership coaching. Earlier chapters illustrated how each framework addresses a specific dimension of the insight-to-action gap. I discuss how their synergy contributes to a richer understanding of why leaders so often struggle and how they can succeed in translating reflective clarity into sustained behavioural change.

8.3.1 Conceptual contributions

As shown in section 8.2.4, leaders were more likely to sustain change when psychodynamic, neural and behavioural dimensions were addressed in relation. Conceptually, this finding reframes the persistent knowing-doing gap. Rather than a simple deficit of willpower or discipline, it emerges from a dynamic interplay of forces (Pfeffer & Sutton 1999; Ahmadi & Vogel 2023). Prior literature often treated the gap as a problem of insufficient effort or poor implementation on the leaders part, the implication being that if people just tried harder or had clearer goals, they would change (Pfeffer & Sutton 1999). In contrast, my research demonstrates that leaders’ capacity to enact new behaviours can be undermined by three interlocking factors, the unconscious defences (SP), deeply wired habit loops (NS) and insufficient real time practice (AM) (Cilliers 2005; Cho & Egan 2009; Graybiel & Grafton 2015).

This reframing moves beyond blaming leaders for “not trying hard enough” and instead positions the gap as a multi layered phenomenon (Schwabe & Wolf 2013; Boyatzis et al. 2015; Erdos & Ramseyer 2021). For instance, even when participants were aware of their need to delegate, stress triggered defensive routines and ingrained neural responses, requiring structured practice to establish new patterns. These insights suggest that the stubbornness of old behaviours is upheld by a convergence of psychodynamic, neural and practical forces, and only by addressing all three can we expect consistent change. This shifts the guiding question from “Why don’t leaders just apply what they learn?” to “How do unconscious fears, brain habits and real-world pressures jointly sustain the status quo, and how can coaching loosen their grip?” (Ahmadi & Vogel 2023; Boyatzis et al. 2015).

A second key conceptual contribution concerns the role of personal narrative, both the leaders and the coach’s, in either bridging or reinforcing the insight-to-action gap (Bachkirova & Smith 2015; de Haan et al. 2020). My reflexive self-research (Chapter 6) illuminated how my own formative experiences shaped a predisposition to empathise deeply and hold space for others, while sometimes inhibiting direct challenge (Bachkirova & Smith 2015). I labelled this stance the ‘Other’, reflecting my feeling of being slightly outside the mainstream, which made me acutely aware of unspoken tensions and willing to give voice to them. Initially, this stance was semi-conscious, I coached in ways that felt natural, for example focusing on the leaders narrative and highlighting undercurrents, without fully realising how my own narrative was influencing my approach. By explicitly naming and exploring this stance, I was able to reclaim it as a strength while moderating its downsides (Yip 2024). Conceptually, my thesis shows that when coaches acknowledge their own lens and how it influences the coaching process, it can transform coaching from a purely reflective dialogue into a more powerful catalyst for action (Bachkirova & Smith 2015).

In my case, acknowledging my narrative as someone who has often felt like an ‘Other’ helped me hold the tension between holding and disruption and between reflection and activation. Rather than stepping back out of concern for the leaders or system’s readiness for change, a temptation that sometimes arose when I sensed emotional or systemic fragility, I learned to engage leaders in micro- experiments that tested the validity of their old self scripts. For example, if a leader voiced a belief like “speaking up will backfire,” rather than staying only in reflection I might ask, “What would it be like to test that assumption in a small, safe way this week?” Together we designed a micro- experiment that allowed the leader to try a new behaviour in a controlled setting, observe the results and reflect on what it revealed (Yip 2024). In this way, insight was paired with action in a relational and developmentally attuned manner.

The conceptual contribution is recognising the coach’s stance itself as an instrument of change. By coining the ’Other’ to describe a coaching stance that emerges from one’s personal narrative of otherness, intentionally harnessed to bridge insight and action, I extend coaching theory to link the coach’s personal development with leader outcomes (de Haan et al. 2020). This suggests that coaches who pinpoint the origins of their own biases and tendencies, as I did in my research, can better calibrate their approach, for example an overly empathic coach learning to push more, or a highly goal driven coach learning to pause and explore meaning (Bachkirova & Smith 2015). Leaders also benefit from pinpointing the origins of their defensive patterns. This research showed that when a leader realises that a long-standing fear or identity, for example “I must be perfect or I’ll be unworthy,” originated in an old narrative, and when we pair that insight with tangible practice, the leader can finally start to shift it. This highlights a broader conceptual point that personal narratives are not just background context, they are active ingredients in whether insight translates to action (de Haan et al. 2020; Yip 2024).

Emerging from my research, my thesis introduces the concept of a Relational Arc in coaching-led transformation. This idea situates the integrative approach within the context of complexity and contemporary leadership challenges (Uhl Bien & Arena 2017). Today’s leadership issues often involve volatile, uncertain environments that demand continual learning and adaptation rather than one off solutions. By combining (SP), (NS) and (AM), the approach developed is uniquely suited to help leaders navigate such complexity. It simultaneously addresses relational webs and systemic defences (SP), provides tools for recalibrating stress and habit (NS) and ensures that insight is tested and refined in real time (AM). In doing so, the model aligns with perspectives in adaptive leadership (Heifetz et al. 2009) and complexity science (Uhl Bien & Arena 2017), which hold that transformation arises from continuous, iterative sense making in context and not from applying a single formula.

In essence, the Relational Arc unfolded in each of my integrative coaching engagements. We began by establishing safety and surfacing awareness, moved through periods of tension and active experimentation, and ended in a new equilibrium of growth, with insight in action. The leaders and I engaged in an evolving exchange through multiple integrative moves and complementary practices. Each act of holding, interpretation or challenge by the ‘Other’ invited a corresponding shift in the ‘Self’ stance, such as openness, self-honesty or courage to try something new, and vice versa.

My thesis formalises this insight by introducing a conceptual 7×7 matrix that maps seven key coach practices (the ‘Other’ stance) and seven leader practices (the ‘Self’ stance) as interacting dimensions within a dynamic relational field. The following examples illustrate some of the possible interactions in this field, rather than representing any fixed one-to-one pairings. For example, when the coach provides a holding environment, the leader is able to engage in vulnerable self-exploration; when the coach delivers a gentle confrontation or challenge, the leader is prompted to face discomfort and reconsider their assumptions; when the coach offers a new frame or insight, such as a simple (NS) explanation, the leader can normalise their experience and harness that knowledge, for example by practising a stress regulation technique; when the coach models reflexivity by sharing observations or personal insights, the leader is encouraged to practise openness and self-reflection; and when the coach scaffolds an experiment or action step, the leader actively tries a new behaviour and learns from it. These reciprocal interactions create a continuous feedback loop. The Relational Arc framework illustrates that every significant coach intervention invites a corresponding relational response from the leader, and lasting change emerges through this interactive flow (de Haan et al. 2020; Yip 2024).

By explicitly naming the ’Self’ stance of the leader as the complement to the coach’s ’Other’ stance, I highlight that coaching success hinges on the interdependence of coach and leader efforts. This idea adds nuance to coaching theory by moving beyond coach centric or leader centric views, instead presenting transformation as co-created (Yip 2024). This was reinforced in interviewee feedback and illustrated through narrative cases in Chapter 7, where both coaches and leaders described coaching as most effective when the leader was actively engaged rather than a passive recipient. Chapter 8 builds on these observations by conceptualising this mutual engagement as the Relational Arc.

The Relational Arc directly addresses the insight-to-action gap by ensuring that each new realisation, the “aha,” is linked to an embodied action or experiment, co-designed within the coaching relationship. This dynamic helped prevent insights from remaining abstract or inert; instead, coach and leader consistently translated understanding into tangible behavioural shifts (Boyatzis et al. 2015; Ahmadi & Vogel 2023). As the baseline cases in Chapter 4 and several interviewees in Chapter 5 reminded us, a leaders ability to enact change also depends on their surrounding environment. The Relational Arc framework operates within a larger organisational system; therefore, part of bridging the gap includes preparing the leader to navigate or reshape those external forces. In other words, while coach and leader co-create the conditions for change, lasting success also requires alignment, or at least awareness, of the organisational context to which the leader returns. As seen in CP1 and CP2, even powerful insights met resistance when their workplace cultures rewarded the status quo. Recognising these systemic constraints keeps the framework grounded in realism and acknowledges that relational transformation and systemic readiness must evolve together.

Linking back to my research questions overall, these conceptual contributions tie directly to my thesis’s central inquiry about how coaching processes, relational dynamics and systemic forces influence the persistence or disruption of the insight-to-action gap (de Haan et al. 2020; Ahmadi & Vogel 2023). The data consistently showed that integration, rather than any single framework approach, enables a deeper theoretical understanding of why behavioural shifts stall and how they can be sustained (Erdos et al. 2021). By reframing the gap as multi determined, highlighting the role of the coach’s stance, the ‘Other’, and the leaders stance, the ‘Self’, in relation, and situating this work in the complexity of modern leadership contexts, I propose a more nuanced lens for researchers, coaches and organisations seeking durable change (Uhl Bien & Arena 2017). Importantly, the Relational Arc framework is presented as a conceptual model that maps a field of potential interactions rather than a set of prescribed pairings. It offers a foundation that others might test and refine through future research and practice, consistent with my thesis’s stance of open inquiry and ongoing development.

8.3.2 Methodological contributions

A second methodological contribution is in demonstrating how reflexive practice can be explicitly integrated into practice-led coaching research. By being an insider in the coaching process and stepping out to analyse it, I captured nuances (like subtle shifts in tone or immediate emotional undercurrents) that are often lost in more detached research designs (Ellis et al. 2011). It also helped bridge a common gap in coaching research, namely the divide between rich qualitative insight and actionable knowledge. The narrative approach turned subjective experiences into analysable data. I drew on guidance from de Haan et al. (2020) about exploring relational dynamics, their work suggested that much of what happens in coaching is beneath the surface, which validated my decision to include those ‘beneath the surface’ narratives as part of the analysis. In doing so, my thesis provides an example of how to rigorously research the subjective, co-constructed aspects of coaching without relying solely on post hoc interviews or surveys. It shows that coach reflexivity can be systematised as part of the method, generating insights into the coaching process (like spotting collusion patterns) that standard methods might miss (Ellis et al. 2011).

A third methodological contribution lies in the implications for future researchers. My experience suggests that integrating multiple frameworks (SP), (NS), (AM) requires a holistic, flexible stance, one that can track psychodynamic shifts, neural states and behavioural experiments all at once (Cilliers 2005; Graybiel & Grafton 2015). This is challenging but feasible. Future studies might expand on this design by incorporating innovative tools, such as wearable devices to monitor stress or longitudinal follow ups to see how new habits persist or decay over time. Additionally, including a reflexive, element was valuable in revealing how the (my) coach’s personal narrative and biases shape outcomes (Ellis et al. 2011). There is opportunity in coaching research for similarly practice-led, multi layered methodologies. For example, one could conduct collaborative research with multiple coaches all employing an integrative approach, comparing how different personalities or contexts influence effectiveness, or combine physiological data with qualitative journals to correlate internal states with coaching moves. The broader implication is that to research a phenomenon as complex as the insight-to-action gap, embracing methodological pluralism and depth is advantageous (Erdos et al. 2021).

In linking back to my research questions, the adaptive cycles and narrative depth built into my design were crucial for answering my thesis’s central concerns. It addresses the question of how we can avoid superficial measures of coaching ‘success’ and instead capture the ongoing, dynamic shifts that are essential for bridging insight and action. The approach developed in my research, allowing my inquiry process to unfold in relation with leaders’ development, provided an authentic sense of how defences are dismantled, how neural patterns are reshaped and how experimental behaviours become anchored over time (Cilliers 2005; Graybiel & Grafton 2015). The reflexive, multi framework approach not only enriched the data, it illustrated in real time the very integration it proposes conceptually. This synergy between method and content is a key contribution of my thesis. It demonstrates a way to research coaching that is itself transformative, and it paves the way for more nuanced and impactful coaching studies that do justice to the lived complexity of change.

Collectively, these conceptual and methodological contributions deepen our understanding of why leadership coaching so often stops at insight, and how it can be guided toward genuine, sustained action (Pfeffer & Sutton 1999; Erdos & Ramseyer 2021; Ahmadi & Vogel 2023). My thesis argues that the insight-to-action gap is best viewed as a complex interplay among unconscious dynamics, neural habit loops, and the structures of real-time practice (Boyatzis et al. 2015; Ahmadi & Vogel 2023). Methodologically, it demonstrates how a reflexive, practice-led approach integrating (SP), (NS), and (AM) can surface deeper drivers of resistance and systematically reinforce new behaviours (Cilliers 2005; Ellis et al. 2011).

8.4 Practical implications for leadership coaching

The findings of my research carry practical implications at two levels. The first concerns individual coaching practice, focusing on how coaches can more effectively help leaders move from insight-to- action. The second relates to broader organisational environments, focusing on how organisations can support and sustain the behaviour changes initiated through coaching. While transformative change often begins within the relational space of a single coach-leader dyad, it is ultimately sustained (or stymied) by the leaders wider context. The recommendations below draw directly on the data and reflections from Chapters 4 - 7, especially the applied coaching with leaders in Phase 4 of my research (CP4, CP5, CP6), and my evolving understanding of how personal narratives, neural habit loops and structured experimentation interweave to foster lasting behaviour change.

8.4.1 Recommendations for coaching practice

I offer practical guidance for coaches seeking to move leaders from reflective insight into sustainable behavioural changes. These recommendations highlight three core domains of practice that reflect the theoretical foundations of my research. They are surfacing and re-authoring personal and relational narratives shaped by unconscious dynamics (SP), drawing on (NS) to understand and reshape stress responses, habits and emotional regulation (NS), and using action learning approaches to test insights, disrupt patterns and embed new routines through experimentation (AM). Although each domain makes a distinct contribution, they work together and reinforce one another in practice.

One of three core domains for coaching practice is surfacing and re-authoring personal and relational narratives shaped by unconscious dynamics. This narrative work provides a foundation for change and also shows how strongly stress and habit can reinforce old narratives, which is where (NS) offers complementary tools.

Coaches can actively help leaders bring into awareness the formative narratives and deeper dynamics that shape their responses to stress, authority and conflict. My research data illustrate that many leaders unconsciously cling to family of origin scripts or early career myths that continue to influence their present behaviour. For example, a leader who learned as a child that it is risky to be wrong might habitually avoid bold decisions. These deep narratives often underpin what on the surface looks like resistance or personality.

Techniques to draw these narratives out include brief reflective prompts, asking “When did you first learn that doing X was dangerous or that you had to do Y to succeed” and projective exercises such as sketching a timeline of pivotal moments in life or career. In CP5’s case, mapping his early experiences of constant evaluation by a critical parent helped him see why he micromanaged his team because he feared that anything less than perfect work would reflect badly on him.

Once he recognised this origin story, we co-created a re-authoring exercise where he rewrote the narrative of failure, reframing mistakes as opportunities to learn with his team rather than as personal indictments. This kind of narrative work draws on (SP) coaching insights which suggest that when leaders alter their internal narrative their behaviour can change more organically (Cilliers 2005; Kets de Vries 2014; Sarnat 2019). The practical guidance is to approach narrative as biography and as a point of entry into unconscious processes, transferences and relational patterns that may otherwise derail change.

A second domain involves drawing on (NS) to understand and reshape stress responses, habits and emotional regulation. These techniques provide leaders with practical ways to regulate the very triggers that often reactivate old narratives, allowing (SP) insights to be applied rather than lost in the heat of stress.

Coaches can equip leaders with straightforward (NS) informed techniques to manage stress triggers, interrupt unwanted habits and strengthen new behavioural pathways. (NS) research shows that under pressure people often default to ingrained neural pathways and automatic responses that the brain uses for protection. For example, deeply embedded habit loops can take over without much conscious thought (Graybiel & Grafton 2015; Wood & Runger 2016) and fear circuits may prompt a rapid safety-first reflex (LeDoux & Pine 2016).

By anticipating these responses and developing specific counter measures leaders can improve their ability to choose new behaviours even in high pressure moments. Two categories of tools are particularly useful which are somatic stress regulation and implementation intentions. (Lutz et al. 2008; Lally et al. 2010; Gollwitzer & Oettingen 2011; Lutz et al. 2025).

On the somatic side, instructing leaders in a brief ninety second pause or a steady breathing practice such as inhaling for four counts and exhaling for six can be effective. Such practices engage the body’s calming pathways and can reset the nervous system enough to support the re-engagement of prefrontal regulation which enables more thoughtful decision making instead of knee jerk reactions (LeDoux & Pine 2016).

Alongside this, coaches can introduce habit disruption tactics such as ‘if-then’ plans. For example, “If I start to feel X then I will do Y.” These plans, known as implementation intentions, effectively program a new response to a known trigger and research shows that they increase the likelihood of behaviour change (Gollwitzer & Oettingen 2011). In Phase 4 of my research described in Chapter 7 CP6’s consistent practice of pausing before automatically saying yes to new requests was reinforced by her ‘if-then’ plan: “If I am asked to take on more then I will first review my current commitments.” This was essential in weakening her reflex of automatic compliance.

The broader point is that (NS) helps normalise the difficulty of change by showing leaders that stress reactions and habits are embodied processes and that with practice the brain can be retrained to support new patterns. Even so, greater awareness and regulation remain fragile unless tested and reinforced through real experience, which highlights the role of (AM).

A third domain is using action learning approaches to test insights, disrupt patterns and embed new routines through experimentation. These cycles of practice not only consolidate new behaviours but also feed back into the leaders evolving narrative and reinforce the neural pathways supported by stress regulation practices.

Coaches can approach each coaching engagement as a structured space for experimentation and reflection. This means encouraging leaders to design micro-experiments in their work between sessions and then debriefing those experiments in the next session. The experiments should be small and specific actions directly linked to an insight the leader has gained.

For example, if a leader realises “I need to listen more and not dominate meetings” an experiment could be to deliberately speak last in the next team meeting and then observe what happens. In Phase Four of my research, I often co-created such tasks. CP5 agreed to delegate the agenda setting of one weekly meeting to a team member as a trial. CP4 agreed to initiate a difficult feedback conversation with a peer that she had been avoiding.

In the following sessions we discussed what happened, what they felt, what worked or did not, and what could be learned. Through these iterative cycles of trying, learning and adjusting, insights gradually evolved into practical competencies. Over time this approach can reshape both mindset and behaviour. The leader not only thinks differently about delegation or giving feedback but also gains repeated practice so that the new action starts to feel natural.

Recent coaching literature supports the idea that repeated action and reflection embed new habits more effectively than insight alone (Cho & Egan 2009; Lally et al. 2010; Gollwitzer & Oettingen 2011; Graybiel & Grafton 2015; LeDoux & Pine 2016; Wood & Runger 2016; James & Stacey-Emile 2019). (AM) highlight that insight must be enacted to become learning and that cycles of experimentation create the conditions for habits and mindsets to consolidate in practice. This approach anchors behavioural change while also reinforcing the self-narratives explored through (SP) work and the neural pathways supported by (NS).

As such, sustainable change requires attending to the (SP) narrative, the neurobiological drivers of habit and stress, and the translation into behavioural action. Linking back to my research questions all three of these domains which are narrative work, stress regulation and iterative action speak directly to the conditions under which leaders move from knowing what needs to shift to consistently doing it. Together they operate less as separate streams and more as an interdependent cycle where narrative, regulation and action continually reinforce one another. My reflexive notes indicate that as a coach I must remain attuned at once to a leaders individual narrative, their neural triggers and their everyday context. By aligning these elements in a coaching process that is safe, and action oriented we reduced the risk of relapse into old habits and increased the likelihood of genuine and lasting transformation (Cilliers 2005; Lally et al. 2010; Gollwitzer & Oettingen 2011; Graybiel & Grafton 2015; LeDoux & Pine 2016; Wood & Runger 2016; James & Stacey-Emile 2019; Sarnat 2019).

8.4.2 Organisational implications

While one on one coaching can initiate change, leadership development does not occur in isolation. Even the most self-aware and committed leader can be undermined if their organisation’s culture or systems devalue experimentation or inadvertently reinforce old norms. Consequently, it’s essential to extend the above insights to the organisational level. This section discusses how organisation structures and cultural practices can either support or obstruct leaders who are striving to translate insight into action (Edmondson & Lei 2014; Petriglieri & Petriglieri 2020).

It is important to note that my thesis deliberately narrowed its focus to the psychodynamic, neural and action learning dimensions of change. Many broader factors, such as power dynamics, industry context and societal culture, also affect whether a leader can change behaviour. Those factors merit substantial exploration. These suggestions are not meant to replace wider systemic considerations but to complement them by demonstrating how an integrative (SP), (NS) and (AM) stance might be embedded in organisational practice.

8.4.2.1 Create practice fields and peer support mechanisms.

Organisations can consider establishing ‘safe zones’ for leaders to try new behaviours without fear of immediate negative repercussions. Just as athletes have scrimmages or pilots use simulators, leaders need practice fields. This could take the form of pilot programs, innovation labs or temporary project teams where experimentation is explicitly encouraged (Senge 2006; Senge et al. 2015). For example, some companies designate certain meetings or innovation sprints where leaders are expected to test different approaches (say, a normally top-down manager deliberately uses a facilitative style) and then share what they learned. Coupled with this, setting up peer coaching or support groups can reinforce new habits. Research by Bozer and Jones (2018) suggests that when managers discuss their developmental experiments with peers, it normalises the effort and provides mutual accountability. In Phase 4 of my research (Chapter 7), CP5’s progress with delegation was partly sustained because his organisation had a structured peer forum where he met with fellow managers monthly to discuss leadership challenges. In those meetings, CP5 received supportive feedback on his delegation attempts and gentle pressure to continue, which kept him accountable beyond our coaching.

From an implementation standpoint, Human Resources or Learning and Development departments could formalise such peer learning circles or after-action review sessions. The message to leaders can be that the organisation values learning and will not punish thoughtful risk taking (Edmondson 2019). By embedding these practice fields and peer supports, the organisation in effect extends the coaching alliance into the workplace, where colleagues become partners in learning rather than only evaluators of performance.

8.4.2.2 Foster a culture of experimentation

Organisational culture plays a pivotal role in either enabling or stifling behavioural change. Cultures that value reflection and reward constructive risk taking tend to see more leadership growth (Carmeli & Gittell 2009; Edmondson 2019). If senior leaders consistently demonstrate that ‘safe-to-fail’ experiments are part of how they do business, individuals lower in the hierarchy feel freer to challenge their own habits (Senge 2006; Edmondson & Lei 2014; Senge et al. 2015). In contrast, high- pressure, zero-error cultures almost guarantee that employees will revert to known safe behaviours (Tushman & O’Reilly 1996).

One practical implication is that organisations can celebrate not just successes but also learning from failures. For example, I have a leader organisation that holds a short ritual in team meetings where managers share one experiment that did not work and what they learned, demonstrating that trying and failing is valued.

In my research, CP4’s ability to embrace new leadership behaviours accelerated as she gained explicit support to experiment without fear of penalty. After she shared with her manager that she was working on being more assertive, he responded with empathy and encouragement, essentially saying that he supported her efforts to try new approaches even if not all of them worked immediately. This built on the progress already under way through her coaching experiments, giving her confidence to take further behavioural risks such as holding people accountable and addressing issues sooner. Her early micro-experiments had shown that small acts of assertion could strengthen trust, and the addition of explicit managerial backing reinforced that sense of safety, allowing her to continue stretching herself in practice.

The broader recommendation is that organisations, through their leaders and HR policies, should explicitly encourage experimentation as integral to development (Carmeli & Gittell 2009; Edmondson 2019). This can include integrating learning goals into performance reviews, inviting reflection on lessons learned rather than focusing solely on static performance metrics, and encouraging leaders to share their development goals publicly. As Petriglieri and Petriglieri (2020) observe, if coaching is framed only as fixing individual deficits to improve performance, it can inadvertently reinforce the status quo. If coaching and development are instead embedded within a culture of continuous learning, they can help challenge existing norms and expand what is possible.

Therefore, to genuinely support the movement from insight-to-action, an organisation needs to examine what behaviours it implicitly rewards or punishes and make it explicitly safe for leaders to step outside their comfort zones. A visible commitment to learning through experimentation signals that growth is valued over perfection, creating the conditions where new behaviours can embed and sustain.

8.4.2.3 Individualise development and respect personal narratives.

Just as a coach tailors the process to a leaders unique narrative, organisations should avoid one size fits all development mandates (Ibarra et al. 2013; Gormley & van Nieuwerburgh 2014). If a leadership program or change initiative ignores the individual’s background and identity, it risks superficial compliance rather than deep change. One implication is that managers (especially those managing leaders who are being coached) should be brought into the loop at an appropriate level. Without breaching coaching confidentiality, companies can encourage a dialogue where leaders feel comfortable sharing some of their development focus with their supervisor, and supervisors are trained to respond supportively (Gormley & van Nieuwerburgh 2014). For example, if a leader discovers that a fear of conflict is holding her back (as with CP4), it helps enormously if her manager is aware that this is a growth edge and creates an environment to practice. In CP4’s case, when she opened up to her manager about her historical fear of conflict, her manager responded with understanding and even shared some of his own development challenges. This significantly reduced the shame CP4 felt about needing help and about making mistakes while learning. It also meant her manager didn’t misinterpret her initial awkward attempts at being more assertive, he knew it was part of her growth.

The practical recommendation is for organisations to cultivate psychological safety up the chain so that leaders know it is acceptable to say, “I’m working on X aspect of my leadership,” to their own leaders (Edmondson & Lei 2014). This could involve training managers in coach like skills for their direct reports (so they don’t accidentally undo the coaching by expecting immediate perfection) and integrating personal development check ins into regular manager - employee conversations. Additionally, any corporate leadership training might allow room for reflection on one’s life history and values, not just teach generic skills. The integrative approach of (SP), (NS) and (AM) could inform program design. For example, a workshop might include a segment on understanding your leadership narrative (SP), a segment on managing stress triggers (NS) and an action experiment in a practice setting (AM) to apply a new skill.

These organisational level considerations reinforce the idea that leadership transformation is co- created by the individual and their environment. A coach can scaffold insight and help design experiments, but the leaders everyday setting either nurtures those experiments or negates them. By creating practice fields, fostering a culture of psychological safety for trial and error, and respecting diverse personal narratives, organisations play a pivotal role in ensuring that insight can truly translate into action (Edmondson 2019; Gormley & van Nieuwerburgh 2014; Petriglieri & Petriglieri 2020). In essence, to close the gap at scale, the principles applied in one-on-one coaching need to be mirrored and supported in the surrounding system. This alignment, individual and organisational, offers the best chance for lasting change.

8.5 Limitations and future research

8.5.1 Research limitations

In the spirit of critical reflection, I acknowledge several key limitations of my research that affect the transferability and scope of the findings. These limitations relate to the scope and scale of the sample, the cultural context of my research, and the narrative focused approach adopted.

Scope and Scale. This thesis relied on a relatively small cohort of six leadership coaching cases (three in the Phase 1 baseline phase, CP1-CP3, and three in the Phase 4 integrative phase, CP4-CP6) and, in Phases 2 and 3 of my research (Chapter 5), a total of twelve interview participants (six coaches and six leaders). This sample allowed for in depth, practice-led understanding of how (SP), (NS) and (AM) can converge to bridge the insight-to- action gap; however, the modest size and specific organisational contexts mean caution should be taken about generalising too broadly. In research terms, the findings have strong validity for these participants and contexts; however, further research with larger or more varied samples might reveal additional factors or boundary conditions. For example, it is possible that certain personality types or industries might interact differently with an integrative approach. All participants in Phase 1 and Phase 4 of my research were senior level leaders in organisations that, while challenging, were generally supportive of coaching. Leaders in more extreme environments (say, a very high stakes military or trading floor context) might face different challenges in applying these techniques. While the depth of inquiry is a strength, the lack of breadth is a limitation, a common trade off in qualitative research (Creswell & Poth 2025). Future studies using quantitative or mixed method approaches could test the prevalence of some patterns (e.g. how common is the insight/action gap across a larger population) and examine generalisability, parallels recent calls in the coaching field to build on intensive qualitative studies with broader surveys (Athanasopoulou & Dopson 2018).

Cultural Context. The participants in my research worked in somewhat similar organisational cultures, companies that emphasised performance metrics and had traditional hierarchical structures (even if they espoused modern values). This context illuminated how deep-seated habits persist under pressure, in environments where results were prized and failure frowned upon, which tended to exacerbate reversion to old behaviours when anxious. However, this context may not reflect more egalitarian or experimental workplaces. In a highly innovative, flat organisation, for example, a leader might experience different kinds of resistance or might have more latitude to play with new behaviours. Additionally, all the coaching was done in an Australian context, with the cultural backdrop that entails, and I as the researcher-coach brought my own cultural lens. In different regional or cultural settings, the way defences manifest or the receptivity to (SP) and/or neuroscientific framing might differ. Thus, care would be needed in applying these findings wholesale to markedly different cultures or industries. As noted by Petriglieri and Petriglieri (2020) and others, leadership development is entwined with culture, what is considered ‘good’ leadership behaviour in one culture might be viewed differently in another (Javidan et al. 2006; Petriglieri & Petriglieri 2020). The focus in my research was not on cross cultural differences, so that remains an open frontier. The situational specificity (while providing rich texture) limits broader claims. Researchers and practitioners would need to consider how these insights translate (or don’t) into their unique setting and adjust accordingly.

Narrative Focus and Subjectivity. My research approach was reflexive and narrative centred, prioritising deep exploration of individual histories and emotional undercurrents. This produced rich insights into unconscious defences and habit loops; however, it also means the outcomes are interpretive. I did not, for example, use quantitative measures of coaching effectiveness (such as standardised 360° feedback or performance metrics) as a primary data source. Such measures may have added another layer of validation but were beyond my chosen scope. As a result, one could argue that evidence of behavioural change in my research relies largely on self-report and my researcher’s observation, rather than ‘objective’ metrics. This is a fair critique; however, I would counter that much of leadership transformation is inherently qualitative and subjective (e.g. shifts in confidence, interpersonal ease, narrative coherence) (Tracy 2010; Ellis et al. 2011). Still, organisations or researchers looking for numeric outcomes (e.g. ROI of coaching) may find the approach of my research less directly applicable. Another limitation tied to the narrative methodology is potential bias, as the coach and researcher, I was deeply involved. This raises questions about objectivity. I mitigated this by maintaining a reflexive journal to catch when my needs or assumptions might colour the analysis, and by triangulating with interview data for external perspectives. Nonetheless, the very strength of my research, being insider research, is also a limitation under traditional notions of generalisable evidence. The interpretive depth came at the expense of breadth and certain forms of ‘objectivity’ (Tracy 2010; Ellis et al. 2011).

These limitations suggest that while my thesis provides a compelling integrated model and set of observations, they should be seen as provisional and context dependent. The aim was to open up new understanding and provoke further inquiry, not to offer a final, universally applicable formula. Below, I outline future research directions that can address some of these limitations and build on this work.

8.5.2 Recommendations for future research

My reflections and limitations of this research open several possibilities for continued exploration. My inquiry focused on an integrated approach that brought together (SP), (NS) and (AM), yet many other coaching traditions such as existential, solution-focused and positive psychology approaches could offer different ways of understanding the insight-to-action gap. The integrative model presented here is one contribution among many, and there is value in others testing and extending it across different contexts and perspectives.

Exploring change over time and across contexts. One area of curiosity concerns how leadership behaviour evolves after coaching ends. In this study I was able to follow participants for several months, yet it remains unknown how these behavioural shifts hold, regress or transform over longer periods of time. Following leaders over one or more years could reveal when and how new habits stabilise, and what circumstances cause them to falter. It would also be valuable to examine how these dynamics unfold in different cultural or organisational contexts. Exploring how relational, systemic and cultural factors influence the way leaders sustain or modify their learning could provide deeper insight into how the integrative model adapts across settings.

Expanding from individual to collective work. Another important avenue is extending the work from individual coaching to collective forms such as team coaching, action learning or peer-based leadership groups. Leadership rarely occurs in isolation, and it would be worthwhile to explore how the principles of the ‘Self’ and ‘Other’ stances operate in group contexts. Such research might investigate how shared reflection, collective containment and peer accountability influence behavioural change. Understanding how teams engage with emotional, systemic and experimental learning together could help integrate coaching practices more fully into organisational life and culture.

Deepening the narrative dimension. A third direction lies in deepening understanding of how personal and family narratives shape a leader’s capacity for change. This research revealed that these stories often underlie the patterns that sustain or inhibit action. Future practice- led studies could trace how these narratives evolve through coaching, exploring how reframing identity stories relates to behavioural or developmental shifts. Linking narrative change to adult development theory could strengthen the conceptual foundation of integrative coaching and lead to the creation of new reflective tools to support practitioners.

Investigating the practice of coaching itself. A further inquiry concerns the field of coaching as a practice. Despite a substantial body of research, there remains a gap between what is known and what is routinely enacted in practice. This reflects a parallel to the very phenomenon examined in this thesis: the challenge of turning insight into action. It would be valuable to explore how coaches integrate theoretical knowledge into their lived practice, and what conditions help research ideas become embodied ways of working. Practice-based inquiry could examine how coaches interpret, test and refine concepts such as containment, reflexivity and systemic awareness in their own sessions, and how this influences both their stance and professional development. Such research would view the evolution of coaching itself as a collective process of learning within the profession.

In summary, these directions suggest possibilities for extending inquiry across time, context, collective experience, narrative depth and the continuing evolution of coaching practice. Each represents an opportunity to deepen understanding of how insight becomes action, not only for leaders but for the field of coaching as a whole.

8.6 Final reflections and conclusion

8.6.1 Revisiting the personal journey

Throughout my thesis, my ongoing sense of being the ‘Other’, a feeling cultivated in childhood as someone slightly on the outside, was both helpful and a guiding asset. It helped shape the central inquiry of why leaders, even after moments of meaningful awareness, remain unable to shift entrenched behaviours. In many ways, my journey of uncovering my own ‘Other’ narrative paralleled the journeys of the leaders I coached. Both they and I had to navigate family of origin narratives and professional histories that silently influenced how we responded to challenges. Recognising this shared vulnerability between coach and leader highlights a crucial insight in that revealing and confronting old narratives is often uncomfortable and it is that very discomfort that can create momentum for change.

Importantly, my research process itself became a container for my transformation from insight-to- action in coaching practice. In the earlier chapters I noticed a reluctance to challenge that stemmed from my own assessment of a leaders readiness and of the organisational support available to them. I would often hold back if I thought pushing further might overwhelm them or leave them without backing, and at times that meant unintentionally colluding with their avoidance when it resonated with my own. This required recalibration. Through the iterative cycles of reflection and experiment documented I learned to preserve the relational depth and psychodynamic mindfulness that (SP) advocates, while introducing more action-based accountability and gentle provocation into my coaching. This thesis has not been simply an academic product; it has been an evolving practice ground. I continuously tested, reflected on and refined interventions aimed at bridging the gap between insight and action for the leaders I coached and for myself. The very act of researching my practice altered that practice. By the end I was coaching from a different internal stance, still supportive and attuned to psychological safety, but far more willing to challenge and to design actionable experiments as a natural part of the process. I became living evidence of my thesis’s core claim, that insight (in my case, into my ‘Other’ stance and its effects) became transformative only when enacted in practice.

8.6.2 Central insights on complexity and integration

From the beginning, I positioned that bridging the insight-to-action gap demands more than cognitive understanding. The reflexive work and case analyses have shown why unconscious narratives, deeply wired neural loops and practice-based enactment each hold a critical piece of the dilemma. Coaching conversations alone can illuminate self-defeating patterns, however, unless I also (a) face the unspoken fears sustaining those patterns (the [SP] dimension), (b) rewire the stress- induced points of reversion (the [NS] dimension), and (c) systematically practise new responses (the [AM] dimension), sustainable transformation can remain elusive.

This research demonstrated that integration requires a flexible movement across psychodynamic depth, neurological conditioning and pragmatic experimentation as the situation demands. Leaders’ defences rarely unravel in a neat linear fashion, biological stress triggers certainly do not wait politely for reflective analysis to finish, and repeated micro-experiments inevitably surface new emotional anxieties that loop us back to the need for holding. A fluid coaching approach that can address these complexities holistically is therefore essential. Otherwise, a coach might solve the wrong problem, for example, focus on behaviour change without realising the person is inwardly unconvinced, or focus on feelings without testing if the new insight actually works in practice. The integrative approach ensures that neither emotional depth nor practical follow-through is neglected. I saw that when I attended to all these layers, the likelihood that a leaders insight would become genuinely embedded beyond the coaching sessions improved. The complexity in the leaders challenge demanded complexity in the coaching response. This integration, while demanding for the coach, appears to provide a more resilient path for change, one that mirrors the multifaceted reality of personal development in organisational life.

I can visualise this through the ‘Relational Arc’ framework introduced earlier. It captures the idea that effective coaching is an ever-adjusting dynamic between the practices of the coach and the leader. When done well, it does not feel like a disjointed set of techniques but rather like an evolving conversation where both parties are learning and adapting. The coach might start by building trust and insight, then shift to catalysing action. The leader might start by introspecting, then shift to experimenting, and then new experiments generate new insights, which require further emotional processing, and so on. The arc of development bends through these stages rather than following a straight line. Embracing this as a coach means being comfortable with not having a fixed script but instead reading what the process needs next. The outcome in my research was that insight was continually converted into action and then back into deeper insight, in a reinforcing loop.

8.6.3 Future hopes and influences

I close this work with a sense of hope and vision for the future of coaching. I hope that my integrated, relationally informed framework proposed contributes to advancing coaching theory and practice towards greater authenticity and effectiveness. By illuminating personal and family-of-origin narratives, the leaders and I were supported through my research to recognise and gradually loosen the hidden attachments that kept us recycling old behaviours. At the same time, by grounding coaching interventions in neurobiological principles and by engaging in cycles of reflection, experimentation and practice, this work highlighted why repeated learning and stress regulation must be embedded in the process if change is to endure. I would like to see coaches and organisations become aware of, test and embed these integrative lenses, moving beyond debates about which single approach is best and instead embracing the richness that comes from layered perspectives. Coaching as a profession has at times suffered from siloed camps such as cognitive behavioural, psychodynamic and performance coaching. In service of our own and the leader’s growth, I encourage coaches to continuously challenge their paradigms by engaging with alternative methods to broaden their perspective and become more informed about the choices they make.

There is also vast potential for further research and application in emerging contexts. Leadership continues to evolve, with developments such as remote teams, cross-cultural collaboration, and rapid industry disruption requiring ongoing behavioural adaptation. I hope to see coaches, human resources practitioners, and researchers testing, challenging, and extending the ideas presented here. For example, how might this approach translate into a remote team coaching context where subtle physical cues are absent? Or how might it support leaders dealing with unprecedented levels of uncertainty, such as during global crises? The integrative framework may need adaptation for these contexts, perhaps bringing new dimensions to light. My hope is that by applying the Relational Arc Framework in diverse settings, it can continue to be validated and refined.

Ultimately, my thesis offers a relational and integrative view of coaching for change. It suggests that closing the insight-to-action gap is not about finding a missing ingredient out there but about co- ordinating and aligning the ingredients we already have, within the leader, within the coach, and within the system around them. Change is a relational exchange. It is within the evolving dynamic of ‘Self’ and ‘Other’ that the possibility and potential of change take shape.

In the prelude, I invited the reader to hold the image of two mirrors reflecting both the leader and the coach in the process of change. Now, to end where my thesis began, I return to that image (Figure 8.1). Those mirrors reveal a shared transformation where a coaching relationship meets insight with action, each shaping and being shaped by the process.

The question that started, drove, and shaped my research, “Why do some leaders struggle to enact their insights?” has moved much closer to being answered. My belief is that from the moment an insight is generated, it is dependent on the integration of emotional, biological, and relational dynamics to transform into action. When coaching encourages insight to be explored, strengthened, and practised, it supports meaningful and sustained development. Through this relational exchange, leaders are better able to translate awareness into action and maintain change over time.

The Relational Arc framework emerging from my research represents the core contribution of my thesis. It is both a conceptual model and a practical guide that links insight to action through the contributions of both the coach and the leader. Learning is not always straightforward or easy, and it is never complete. It takes courage and effort to continue learning, and I hope that the Relational Arc framework, by intentionally integrating psychodynamic insight, neurobiological understanding, and real-world experimentation, and by recognising the co-active roles of both coach and leader, enhances both the process and the outcomes of coaching for all involved. I hope that this work will inspire coaches to see themselves as partners in a developmental exchange, to bring both compassion and courage to their practice, and to help leaders write new narratives of change that endure long after the coaching ends.

I end with gratitude for the leaders and coaches who agreed to participate in my research. I sincerely hope that their experience was beneficial and that they gained something meaningful from their involvement. I also hold optimism that the coaching field will continue to evolve in ways that turn insights into lived realities.

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