Lately, I’ve been thinking a lot about support—not just who I offer it to, but who I ask it from.
This reflection started with a simple but challenging realization: my spouse can’t be the only one I lean on emotionally. As I’ve grown in my personal development and started “doing the work” more intentionally, I’ve come to understand just how important it is to have a circle—not a single point—of support. And not just for me. This is true for anyone trying to lead, grow, or navigate change.
So here’s the question I want to ask:
Who are your people?
Not your friends in general. Not your professional network. I mean the specific people who show up when you need to set a clear goal, face reality, weigh your options, or commit to next steps. The ones who help you make sense of things. The ones who bring clarity when things are foggy. The ones you let see what’s real.
Who’s in that circle?
Leadership often carries an unspoken assumption: that you have to do it on your own. That being a strong leader means being the one with the answers, the vision, the drive. I see this all the time in my work with organizational leaders, especially those who pride themselves on independence. They have an “I got it” stance. They rarely ask for help, and when they do, it’s often after they’ve already made the decision in isolation.
The problem? That stance is inherently limiting.
The leaders who thrive—not just succeed—are the ones who embrace interdependence. They know they don’t have all the answers. They believe in the value of perspective. They recognize that clarity, creativity, and accountability are all strengthened by having the right people in the room (or on the phone, or in the corner of your mind when you’re wrestling with a big choice).
But most of us don’t build this kind of support system intentionally. If we have one at all, it’s patchwork. It’s ad hoc. We lean on whoever happens to be around, often people a lot like us, and usually only in times of crisis or confusion.
That’s not enough.
Until recently, I would’ve told you I had a solid network. Lots of thoughtful, smart, creative folks in my orbit. People I genuinely like catching up with. But that was the problem, I kept it at catch-up. Which isn’t bad, but it can keep conversations on the surface.
What I hadn’t done was name who my people were, or why I might need them.
That shifted when I started wondering if I should grow my Thinking Partner practice more intentionally. I reached out to a friend who’s a skilled writer and asked for his thoughts on something I’d written. His feedback was clear, honest, and incredibly useful. He gave me confidence in my goals and challenged me on structure in a way I could hear.
It was one of the first moments I thought: “This is the kind of conversation I need more often.” Purposeful. Reflective. Held in trust.
So I’ve been building my list: asking who I already have around me, what roles they might play, and whether they know I see them that way.
Think about your own circle. If you were to map it out, could you name:
Who plays these roles for you?
Do you have multiple perspectives in each category, or are they mostly people who think like you?
Are you relying too heavily on one or two people for all of this?
And maybe even more importantly:
Do they know they’re on your list?
Have you asked them if they’re willing to play this role from time to time?
This is where a lot of us fall short. We expect support without ever naming the ask. We assume availability, without consent. That’s not a relationship. That’s a transaction.
And support systems should be built on care, not consumption.
There’s another side to this question: Whose list are you on?
Leadership isn’t just about getting what you need. It’s about being the kind of presence other people can count on, too. That doesn’t mean every relationship is 1:1 in reciprocity, but it does mean that overall, you are both held and holding. Giving and receiving. Supporting and being supported.
A few weeks ago, I had tea with an old friend. We had about an hour, and we spent most of it on casual chit-chat—nice, but light. Then, in the last 10 minutes, they brought up a major life decision and asked for some perspective.
And I thought, I wish I had known that’s what you needed from this time. We could’ve gone so much deeper, sooner.
Sometimes we need to be more explicit, with ourselves and others, about what kind of support we’re looking for. And what kind of support we’re offering.
Every support system, no matter how thoughtfully built, has its limits.
Some questions don’t fit neatly into anyone else’s category. Some opportunities are too complex or emotionally loaded to bring to a peer. Some challenges require focused, structured reflection—outside the rhythm of everyday life.
That’s where a Thinking Partner can be helpful.
A Thinking Partner isn’t a therapist or a coach, though there’s some overlap. They’re a trusted collaborator. Someone who helps you reflect, frame, and move forward. Someone who’s there for you, but not in it with you in the same way your friends or colleagues might be. Someone who listens without needing to fix. Who can ask the next question. And the next.
When I work with clients in this way, one of the first things we often do is talk through their support network. Who do they have? Who do they need? What’s missing? Where can we intentionally invite more diversity of perspective, more clarity of role?
And most importantly: how do we make space and time to use that support system, instead of just admiring it from a distance?
So here’s my invitation to you:
Leadership isn’t just about vision. It’s about connection. And clarity. And care.
You don’t have to do it alone. In fact, you can’t.
So again, I’ll ask:
Who are your people?