The Fine Illusion: How Hiding Your Humanity Hurts Your Leadership

Content Warning: This blog contains a personal story involving significant medical pain and hospitalisation.

We’ve all been there. The “I’m fine” reflex. That automatic response that trips off your tongue before you’ve even taken a second to consider whether it’s true. For leaders, especially in schools, it’s practically part of the job description. The unspoken belief is that your team needs to see you calm, in control, and unshakeable. You’ve looked at the leaders you've had in your own career, in the media, maybe even in films; and absorbed the idea that showing emotions or uncertainty makes you less effective. It’s a myth, and it’s costing leaders their health, relationships, and connection with their teams.

The day “I’m fine” nearly broke me

It was 2009. I was a headteacher in a school we’d worked hard to take from Special Measures, and we were on track to achieve ‘Good’ at our next Ofsted inspection. My husband was away taking his mum on a birthday trip, and our daughter was in primary school. Around 6pm one evening, a dull ache started in my lower right abdomen. I carried on as usual. I made dinner, got my daughter ready for bed, and winced quietly whenever the contraction-like waves of pain hit. Paracetamol. Ibuprofen. No real relief. By 10:30pm I was googling, “Have I got appendicitis?” Some symptoms fit, others didn’t. I thought about who I could call to be with my daughter if I needed to go to A&E. No one nearby fit the bill; not without her waking up confused or scared. I decided to ‘sleep it off’.

By morning, the pain was excruciating. But still I smiled. “Just get her to school, Mo, and then you can get checked out.” I dropped my daughter off… and drove to work! It wasn’t quite as reckless as it sounds, the school was two minutes from A&E, but looking back it was still insane. I wanted to brief my office manager, be sure we had cover for everthing to reassure myself i was ok to go to hospital. By this point I couldn’t stand upright. I parked at the back, crawled down the corridor on all fours, and waited at reception for my OM to arrive. As she arrives she said her customary “Hi Maureen, how are you?” And out it came: “I’m fine.” I then told her 'I’ve just got to pop to the hospital to have this pain checked'. She was suitably horrified and urged me to call an ambulance. I refused. I crawled back to my car and drove myself to A&E. I still remember the shocked and baffled look in her face. It turned out to be undiagnosed endometriosis, which eventually led to a hysterectomy. But the point isn’t the diagnosis. It's that even in the most extreme pain I’d ever experienced, my brain would not let me drop the act of being “the boss”, lest it caused staff to 'lose respect'.

Why “I’m fine” is a leadership trap

That day, I learned something I’ve carried into every leadership and coaching conversation since: saying “I’m fine” when you’re not doesn’t make you strongit , it makes you distant. When leaders hide their humanity, they send the message (often unintentionally) that vulnerability isn’t acceptable here. That emotions, uncertainty, and even healthy doubt are weaknesses. This pressure is magnified if like me, your reality doesn’t fit the “traditional" mould of what a school leader is supposed to look or sound like. Leaders from marginalised backgrounds; whether by race, gender, sexuality, disability, age, or faith, can feel an even stronger pull to appear ‘perfect’, fearing that any crack in the armour will be seen not as human but as proof they don’t belong

The alternative: showing you care by showing you’re human

Here’s what I know now: your team will trust you more when they see that you’re real. Self-awareness and self-reflection aren’t soft skills, they’re survival skills. Coaching supports leaders to press pause, examine what’s happening inside as well as outside, and decide how to lead from a place of values rather than image. It doesn’t mean unloading every stress on your staff, and it certainly doesn’t mean avoiding necessary decisions. It means being honest when you don’t have all the answers. It means saying, “I’m working on it,” instead of “I’m fine.” When you model that balance , being calm and decisive, but also willing to be human, you give permission for the whole school to breathe a little easier.

A challenge for the year ahead

Before you answer “I’m fine” automatically, pause. Ask yourself: is that true? What would happen if I told a more honest version, even just to one trusted colleague?Your humanity is not a liability. It’s the bridge that connects you to your staff, your pupils, and your wider community. .And in my experience, that bridge is where the best leadership happens.