Letting Go and Lifting Up

What Got Us Here Won’t Get Us There

When Stellar first began in 2016, leadership was simple. It was presence. It was relationship. It was showing up early, staying late, and solving problems together in real time. Back then, we were just one preschool with ten staff. I was in the trenches every day, hands-on with the team, every decision coursing directly through my presence. It felt right. It worked.

But leadership at that stage was like holding a newborn. You don’t ask a baby to walk before it’s ready. You carry it, feed it, watch every breath. That level of attentiveness builds trust in the beginning. But it doesn’t scale. And eventually, if you don’t put the child down and let it stumble forward, it will never learn to walk on its own.

As Stellar expanded into an international school in 2020, I began to feel it. The very thing that once gave us strength, my closeness, was slowly becoming a limit. Decisions slowed down. Teams hesitated to act without my signal. I was no longer enabling leadership. I was unintentionally stalling it.

This was the painful paradox I had to confront. What got us here won’t get us there. And worse still, what built us might now be what’s breaking us.

The Moment I Realised I Was the Limit

I still remember the tension during that transition season. We had just launched Stellar International School, and for the first time, I wasn’t present at every site. My children were growing, our responsibilities were multiplying, and the team was ballooning beyond the size I could physically oversee. But somehow, the team was still acting like I was supposed to be everywhere.

They would wait for my approval. Staff came to me for answers I had already empowered others to make. I became the bottleneck, not by design, but by default. Even though we had team leads, they didn’t feel fully released. And the worst part? I didn’t fully let go.

It wasn’t because I didn’t trust them. It was because I didn’t know how to transition. No one had taught me how to lead without touching everything. I didn’t have a system. I had instinct.

Our founder-era culture was high-trust, high-proximity. But it was also founder-dependent. And the weight was growing unbearable.

I remember a meeting where one of our managers shared honestly, “We’re still figuring out if we’re allowed to lead.” That line haunted me. I thought I had empowered them. But empowerment without clarity only breeds confusion. I hadn’t created space for others to rise. I had built a leadership environment that couldn’t breathe without me in the room.

That’s when I realised I wasn’t leading anymore. I was over-functioning.

From Founder-Led to Framework-Led

The turning point didn’t come with a big announcement or strategy deck. It came with silence. It came with one of those quiet evenings where you’re forced to confront your own limits. I had to ask myself the hardest leadership question I’ve ever faced: if I disappeared tomorrow, would this team rise or collapse?

The honest answer? At that point, collapse.

That’s when I began shifting from doing to designing. I started reframing leadership as something that could be passed on, not just practiced. It wasn’t enough for me to lead well. I had to build something that would let others lead well without me.

That was the birth of the Lead to Impact philosophy. From that came our SPARK, SHAPE, STRENGTHEN, SEND framework. It started small: mentoring one team lead at a time, writing down processes that previously lived only in my head, holding space instead of filling it. Over time, it became the scaffolding that allowed leaders to grow without depending on me.

I now see leadership more like coaching than commanding. A great coach doesn’t take every shot. They don’t dominate the field. They set the conditions for others to win, and then they step back.

Neuroscience backs this up. Overprotection stunts executive development in children. In leadership, over-involvement stunts autonomy. The more I tried to hold everything together, the more I suppressed the team’s executive function. They couldn’t make decisions, not because they weren’t capable, but because I hadn’t stepped aside long enough for them to try.

It’s no wonder that many founder-led organisations hit a ceiling. The founder’s hands become the lid. The absence of frameworks creates fear. And fear keeps people from acting.

Letting go wasn’t a loss of control. It was a shift in belief. From “I must do it” to “they are ready to rise.”

Letting Go Is How You Lift Others Up

Today, the most meaningful thing I can do as a leader is not to solve every problem. It is to create an environment where others know they can. I still show up, but I show up differently. I show up to ask better questions, not give faster answers. I show up to remove roadblocks, not to control results. I show up not to be the hero, but to build a culture of heroes.

Stellar has grown beyond what I imagined. Not just in numbers or programs, but in people. Our middle leaders now lead meetings, shape culture, and even challenge me in ways that make me better. That only happened because I chose to step back and design something stronger.

There’s a sociological truth we often miss. In tribal communities, if leadership is not transferred intentionally, it dies with the elder. There’s no legacy without succession. And succession starts with design.

Leadership at scale isn’t just about systems. It’s about surrender. It’s choosing to believe that the people you’ve raised are ready, even when you feel like you’re not. It’s trusting that your greatest impact may not come from what you do, but from what you’ve designed others to do.

So here’s the question I now ask myself every month.

What am I still holding that someone else is ready to grow into?

Not because I’m lazy. Not because I’m tired. But because lifting others requires letting go.

Because real leadership is not what you hold. It’s what you release.

The Unseen Principle

The opposite of leadership isn’t neglect. It’s overdependence.

When we refuse to let go, we don’t just hold things up. We hold people back. And in trying to lead everything, we lead nothing well.

Sometimes, the most courageous thing a leader can do is step aside.

Not to disappear.

But to design something that can thrive without you.