When My Helping Hurts: Confessions of a “Hero” Leader
I used to think of myself as the reliable fire-fighter—swooping in whenever flames licked at a project or a teammate’s confidence. Hero-ing felt noble: deadlines met, crises averted, everyone safe. But somewhere along the way I noticed something unsettling. The more often I rescued, the fewer sparks of ownership I saw in my team’s eyes.
That realization forced me to name four default habits that quietly undercut the very growth I said I wanted to foster.
1. The Hero Cape I Can’t Seem to Fold Away
Whenever a task wobbled, I’d grab it: “I’ll fix this—faster for everyone.” Part of me loved the adrenaline rush and the gratitude. Yet every time I caught the rebound, I robbed someone else of the chance to dribble, stumble, and ultimately score. My efficiency became their ceiling.
What I’m practicing: biting my tongue and my urge to snatch the ball. Instead, I ask, “What’s your next move?” Even if the play unfolds slower, the ownership that grows in the gap is worth the clock time.
2. The Silent Wish for Self-Correction
I’d notice a misstep and silently hope a teammate would see it too—surely they’ll self-correct. When they didn’t, frustration simmered. The truth? My avoidance wasn’t kindness; it was fear—of conflict, of dampening morale, of being the “bad cop.”
What I’m practicing: framing feedback as an investment, not a reprimand. I start with shared intent (“We both want this client thrilled”) and then describe the specific behavior and its impact. Clear beats kind-ish vagueness every time.
3. Wanting Their Growth More Than They Do
Nothing lights me up like potential. I routinely set stretch goals I’d be ecstatic to chase—then watched team members meet them with polite enthusiasm. I finally realized I was scripting my own ambition onto someone else’s chapter.
What I’m practicing: co-authoring growth. I ask what they want—professionally and personally. When the motive is theirs, the momentum is real. My role shifts from pusher to partner.
4. Bubble-Wrapping Them from the Hard Stuff
I shielded my team from thorny clients, messy budgets, high-stakes presentations. My intent was care; the effect was constraint. They stayed comfortable, but comfort rarely sparks mastery.
What I’m practicing: gradual exposure. I still stand nearby, but I hand over the microphone, the spreadsheet, the tough conversation. And when things get rocky, we debrief together instead of me jumping in mid-stream.
The Cost of My Defaults
Left unchecked, each pattern fed the next:
- Hero-ing drained my energy, making me impatient and less available for strategic thinking.
- Avoided feedback meant mistakes repeated, which tempted me to rescue again.
- Over-investing in their growth led me to snatch challenges they weren’t “ready” for—reinforcing the bubble-wrap.
Round and round it went, locking my team into dependence and me into exhaustion.
Four Micro-Experiments for Fellow Heroes
- The 10-Second PauseWhen you feel the urge to rescue, count to ten. Use the time to craft a coaching question instead of a solution.
- Feedback in 60 SecondsKeep feedback short: Observation → Impact → Question. (“I noticed the deck ran five minutes long, which rushed Q&A. What might tighten it next time?”)
- Growth Ownership Check-InAsk each team member this month: “What skill or project would feel thrilling—not just safe—to master by year-end?”
- Hard Problem Buddy SystemPair a teammate with you for the next difficult client call. They lead; you observe. Debrief side-by-side afterward.
A Closing Note to My Fellow Rescuers
Your instinct to help is a gift. But gifts become burdens when given at the wrong moment or in the wrong way. Leadership isn’t about always swooping in; it’s about creating the space where others discover they can fly.
So before you pin on the hero cape again, ask:
Am I protecting them from failure or from their own potential?
The answer may be the spark that turns your greatest default into your greatest development tool—for them and for you.
