Therapists are Leaders...I'm just not sure we all know it....

Earlier this month, I sat in a circle of peers—fellow Jewish leaders from across the country—as part of the Wexner Heritage Program. It’s a program designed to cultivate leadership within Jewish communities by integrating deep learning in Jewish history and tradition with robust training in adaptive leadership.

It’s also a cohort-based experience, which means you don’t just learn the concepts—you live them. You stumble through hard questions together. You practice naming what’s not working. You get curious about the stories you’re telling yourself. And you build a community of allies and confidants who aren’t afraid to both challenge and champion you.

One of the metaphors we returned to again and again was the idea of the dance floor and the balcony. When we’re on the dance floor, we’re in it—the thick of a challenge, the push and pull of our emotions, our instincts, our fears. The balcony is the place we retreat to when we need perspective, when we want to zoom out and understand the patterns, dynamics, and assumptions playing out below.

As a therapist and private practice owner, I know that tension well.

Adaptive leadership, as I’ve come to understand it, is less about having the right answers and more about learning how to dance and observe at the same time. To notice when we’re stuck in a familiar groove. To disrupt enough to allow growth, but not so much that the system implodes.

It’s leadership that lives in our bodies as much as our brains.

In clinical work, this can show up when we find ourselves unknowingly caught in an enactment—entrenched in a client’s familiar pattern rather than observing it. I remember working with a client who was navigating a significant life decision. I became so invested in them reaching a particular outcome that I lost perspective. I was no longer on the balcony - I was in the trenches.

In my desire to help, I found myself mirroring the very dynamic they were trying to break free from—echoing the same kind of pressure they’d experienced from a parent. Rather than feeling supported, they felt disempowered and stuck. It wasn’t until later - with some distance and reflection - that I realized how wrapped up I’d become in their process. That was the moment I saw the pattern—not just theirs, but mine. And from there, I could reorient. Step back. Repair. Lead differently.

And then there’s the business side.

It’s easy to get pulled into the minutiae of running a practice—responding to every fluctuation, every small fire, every unread signal. I’ve noticed this especially when a contractor’s calendars are not as full as usual. Even with long-term, consistent team members, I feel that familiar internal buzz: What’s going on? Are we losing momentum? Should I be doing something?

That’s when I feel the pull to react—to adjust marketing, to rewrite policies, to reach out in ways that come more from my own anxiety than from steadiness. Sometimes I catch myself making misaligned decisions solely out of fear. That’s when I know I’ve been on the dance floor too long.

Adaptive leadership in these moments means pausing. Moving to the balcony. Asking: What’s really happening here? Is this a trend, or a blip? Is this about them, or about something stirred in me? From that place, I can choose how to respond—less reactive, more intentional.

These aren’t polished leadership moments. They’re vulnerable ones....quiet ones...often unseen by others.

But they matter.

Because leadership in private practice isn’t just about running a business—it’s about how we show up. For our clients, for our teams, and for ourselves. It’s about being willing to look inward, get curious, and move with intention. And it’s about staying connected to our values even when things feel messy or uncertain.

Where in your work or life are you being invited to climb to the balcony?