When You Realize You've Been Creating Heart Palpitations

You know that leader whose meetings make you need a coffee afterward.

Even when nothing particularly stressful happens. Even when it's just routine updates. You walk out feeling like you've been holding your breath for an hour.

Now think about your own interactions. How do people look when they leave conversations with you? Energized or drained? Relaxed or like they need to decompress?

You've felt what frantic energy does to your body.

Remember that boss who always seemed to be in crisis mode? How your heart rate would spike the moment they started talking about deadlines? How you'd find yourself speaking faster and feeling more anxious even about routine tasks?

Your body was responding to their arrhythmic leadership style.

And you've probably done this to someone else.

That Monday morning when you were already behind, dealing with weekend problems that spilled into the week. You rushed into the team meeting, started talking quickly about everything that needed to happen, made three rapid-fire decisions, and then wondered why everyone looked stressed.

You gave them an adrenaline spike before 10 AM.

A hard lesson from the road:

The result? I developed an ulcer that hemorrhaged. For weeks I gradually began to fail physically. Our day would look like this: Bags in the lobby at 11am Rehearsal at 1pm. Soundcheck at 5pm Show at 8pm Go the chartered plane directly after the show. Fly to the next city. Check in to the hotel (3am-4am).

We did this 6 days a week. (and you think being on the road is glamorous?).

Finally I couldn't take the pain any longer. I asked my only confidant on the tour, Jeannie King, one of the back up singers, to take me to the hospital. I was immediately admitted. The next morning I got a call from the manager asking if I was going to make the show or not. I had lost 2 pints of blood and had a transfusion in one arm and an IV in the other. I told him: "I don't think so." He hung up the phone. I never heard from him again.

I had been left in the hospital alone, afraid and left to my own devices - not knowing what was wrong with me. I literally made myself sick with the frantic pace I was thinking was "showing leadership."

Do you recognize this pattern in yourself?

The recovery strategy: When I returned to work after my medical crisis, I had to learn entirely new rhythms. I started taking deliberate pauses before responding to problems. I consciously spoke at a measured pace even when I felt rushed. I learned to distinguish between what needed immediate action and what just felt urgent. This didn't happen overnight and it took time and effort. This didn't happen overnight and it took time and effort.

You recognize this pattern in yourself:

• When you're under pressure, you speak faster without realizing it
• When you're anxious, you make decisions more quickly than necessary
• When you're behind schedule, you try to make everything else move faster too
• When problems pile up, you start treating routine things as urgent

You've felt this cycle. Pressure creates speed, speed creates more pressure, and pretty soon everyone's operating in panic mode even when there's no actual emergency.

You've felt the difference between urgency and panic.

Urgency feels focused: "This matters and we need to handle it well." Panic feels chaotic: "Everything is falling apart and we need to move faster."

In urgent moments, you think more clearly. In panic moments, you react more quickly but less effectively.

The turning point:

Later in my career, working with Michael Kamen on major films, I learned a different approach. Despite the enormous pressure of Hollywood deadlines, Michael never took himself too seriously. He understood that sustainable speed beats frantic pace.

I learned to distinguish between actual urgency (which requires focused attention) and artificial urgency (which just spreads stress for no good reason).

You know what sustainable pace feels like.

You've had periods where your team was moving fast but not frantic. Where deadlines were real but didn't create chaos. Where people were engaged without being exhausted.

That's what it feels like when you operate with rhythm instead of rushing.

You've probably noticed this in your physical responses:

• When you rush from meeting to meeting, your breathing gets shallow
• When you're behind schedule, your voice gets tighter
• When you're stressed about outcomes, you interrupt people more
• When you're feeling pressure, you create pressure for everyone else

Whether you're leading or participating, people's bodies respond to these signals.

That moment when you caught yourself mid-rush.

Maybe during a team discussion when you suddenly realized you'd been talking non-stop for ten minutes. Or when someone asked you to repeat something because you'd been speaking too quickly.

You felt it, didn't you? That moment of recognizing you were contributing to chaos instead of clarity.

The recovery strategy:

When I returned to work after my medical crisis, I had to learn entirely new rhythms. I started taking deliberate pauses before responding to problems. I consciously spoke at a measured pace even when I felt rushed. I learned to distinguish between what needed immediate action and what just felt urgent.

This week, notice your rhythm patterns:

• How does your speaking pace change when discussing problems vs. successes?
• Do you interrupt people more when you're feeling behind?
• What happens to the group's energy when you're operating in rush mode?
• How does your stress level on Monday morning affect everyone else's week?

You already know what good rhythm feels like.

You've been in conversations with people who maintained steady energy even during difficult discussions. Who could discuss urgent matters without creating panic. Who moved efficiently without making everyone feel frantic.

You felt calmer and more capable in those environments, didn't you?

Whether you're leading or following, you can create that same feeling for others.

The question is: do you want to contribute to a marathon or a sprint to nowhere?