The Hidden Cost of High-Achievement
What one C-Suite leader discovered when success was no longer enough—and how it changed his leadership style forever.
Welcome to Issue #10 of The Inner Boardroom™. Every week, I open this quiet space where high-performing leaders can step away from the noise, reconnect with themselves, and rediscover what it means to lead with presence and purpose. If you’re ready to deepen your journey, you’re invited to join our conversation by subscribing to this newsletter.
The Perfect Executive, Cracking at the Seams
When I first met him, he embodied every stereotype of a top C-suite leader in Dubai's high-stakes financial sector: clad in a tailored navy suit that hugged his athletic frame, he moved with purpose through the sleek, marble-floored lobby, a smartphone glued to his ear, his voice sharp and commanding.
Alexander Chow was the Chief Strategy Officer of one of the most powerful financial institutions in the Middle East. He commanded respect, evoked fear, and—according to the whispers in HR—was teetering on the brink of workplace burnout.
They brought me in under the radar. A discreet phone call, the formal signing of a non-disclosure agreement, and a clear request: "We think he's experiencing executive burnout. He won't admit it, but he needs leadership support."
When Performance Becomes a Religion
I had encountered this scenario before. In many high-rise towers like this one—glimmering glass structures rising in defiance of the vast desert—performance had morphed into a religion.
And Alexander was one of its most devoted acolytes, struggling to maintain work-life balance in this high-pressure environment.
Our first performance coaching session took place in his office on the 56th floor, where expansive glass windows framed a breathtaking view that spanned from the towering Burj Khalifa to the shimmering edge of the Arabian Gulf.
Yet, his gaze remained glued to the glowing screen of his laptop, fingers dancing over the keys with the urgency of a man under pressure. He greeted me with a curt nod, his eyes betraying a polite disinterest, as if I were just another metric in his endless pursuit of success.
A Glimpse Beneath the Mask
"I don't really know what this leadership development process is supposed to be," he said, waving dismissively toward the two modern chairs positioned by the window, their sleek lines a stark contrast to the weight of the conversation. "But HR insisted."
I offered a warm smile, trying to bridge the gap. "That's usually how it starts."
He let out a short, breathless laugh—part amusement, part dismissal. He settled into the chair, his posture rigid, arms crossed tightly over his chest as if to shield himself from any probing questions. "Just so we're clear—I'm not here to talk about childhood trauma or how I 'feel.' I perform. I deliver. That's what matters."
I nodded slowly, allowing the weight of his words to hang in the air. "You perform. But at what cost?"
It was then that he turned his gaze toward me for the first time. He really looked, and in that moment, I saw a flicker of vulnerability—a crack in the armor he had so meticulously crafted.
The Slow Unraveling of a Lifetime Strategy
In our line of work, organizational change is never a clean break; it always starts with a struggle.
And Alexander embodied that struggle with a certain grace: polite, composed, expertly guarded. Yet, week after week, he showed up. Was that truly enough?
Bit by bit, the façade began to crack. He confided in me about his parents—both professional athletes. A father who prioritized triumph over tenderness. A mother who quantified love in medals. He had been raised to sprint not just for glory, but for validation. The only way he understood worth was through perfection.
"Even now," he admitted one day, "I can't relax. If I'm not performing, I feel... hollow."
The Diagnosis That Opened the Door
We ventured into that hollowness with trepidation. Slowly. With care. Not by slicing it apart, but by allowing it space to breathe.
Then came the diagnosis based on burnout research: acute exhaustion. His doctor prescribed a month off to stave off complete executive burnout. Was this our chance, or merely a delay?
I encouraged him to start journaling—not as a report, but as a means to feel. "You don't have to be profound," I reassured him. "Just be honest in your self-leadership journey."
Initially, he resisted even that small request.
But a week later, in the dark hours of the night, he texted me at 2 a.m.: “I wrote: ‘I don’t know who I am when I’m not achieving.’ Is that normal?”
I responded: "It's not just normal. It's the beginning of your leadership evolution."
A Walk on the Beach, A Crack in the Soul
During his break, our sessions shifted beyond the confines of the office. We strolled along Jumeirah Beach, sat in shaded cafés. He began to speak more freely, but was that true freedom? His journal filled with lines that felt like confessions, yet also like cries for help:
“I fake confidence every day.”
“I feel like a fraud.”
“I’m tired of hiding.”
One day, he posed a question that echoed in my mind: “Have you ever seen someone like me actually change?”
I had to be honest: “Not everyone does. But those who do often stop trying to improve themselves and start discovering who they truly are.”
He fell silent, contemplating the weight of those words. Then he whispered, “I don’t want to revert to who I was. But I’m terrified of uncovering who I really am.”
I smiled, but inside, I felt a twinge of fear too. “That’s the most honest thing you’ve shared since we began this journey in your leadership development.”
The Return: Subtle Shifts, Profound Impact
When he came back to work, he was changed. There were no grand speeches or a new identity, just a subtle, grounded transformation. He took more pauses, listened more attentively, and began meetings by checking in with his team—not just about their tasks, but about their feelings. He made room for uncertainty. He cared about burnout prevention.
He even confided in his direct reports about his struggle with burnout and that he was working with an executive coach.
"That's courageous," one colleague remarked.
"No," he replied, "it's essential."
The Shift from Strategy to Presence
What shifted was not his strategy but his presence. He still achieved results, but now he did so with greater clarity, deeper connections, and—surprisingly to him—more ease.
One afternoon, a few weeks post-return, he turned to me during a session and said, “You know what’s interesting? My performance has improved more than ever, but I don’t even think about performance anymore. I just show up. As myself.”
He paused.
“I used to lead out of fear. Now I lead from authenticity.”
A Journey With No Distance
When people inquire about my role as a coach, I sometimes respond, “I help individuals embark on a journey with no distance.”
Alexander’s path wasn’t about becoming a new person; it was about rediscovering someone he had forgotten. The boy who desired love rather than mere admiration. The man who was finally learning to live without a facade.
In doing so, he didn’t lose his edge. He discovered his core.
Because when you lead from your true self, you don’t just achieve success. You find belonging.ds
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Dr. Aldo Civico is a globally recognized executive coach and leadership advisor, ranked among the Top 5 Leadership Authorities by Global Gurus. He has taught negotiation and conflict resolution at Columbia University and partnered with legendary leadership expert John Mattone, former coach to Steve Jobs.
With over two decades of experience, Aldo has coached C-Suite executives, political leaders, creatives, and entrepreneurs across the U.S., Latin America, Europe, and the Middle East. His unique approach blends neuroscience, epigenetics, emotional mastery, and generative coaching to help leaders transform from the inside out.
Through The Inner Boardroom™, Aldo shares the confidential insights and deep shifts that create authentic, sustainable leadership in high-stakes environments.
