I caught up with the Managing Partner of a top VC firm recently, and we swapped stories about leadership assessments. After the call, I dug up my old Predictive Index (PI) results from early in my career—and wow. It fired my brain off in a bunch of directions.

Full disclosure: I'm a total nerd when it comes to understanding people—how they tick, how they lead, and how they grow. I love this stuff.

Naturally, I popped the results into ChatGPT and asked: What does this say about me as a leader?

It came back with: "a rare and high-intensity behavioral pattern."

Intense? Me? No idea what it's talking about…

The Strengths: A Rare Combination

Here's what it surfaced about my leadership wiring:

Rare and powerful combo: Visionary leadership, people-savvy intuition, systems thinking, and operational precision—not something you see every day, and exactly what high-growth environments need.

Builds trust fast: I connect quickly and create the conditions for people to open up, align, and move.

Systems lens: I intuitively see how everything connects—people, decisions, structure, outcomes—and notice friction points others miss.

Quick through complexity: I don't get stuck. I move fast through messy dynamics, high-stakes situations, and ambiguity with clarity and focus.

Relational + execution energy: I'm deeply relational and built for pressure—the kind of pressure where intensity is an asset, not a liability.

Leadership wiring: I challenge systems, energize people, and demand excellence—because anything less is wasted potential.

The Shadow Side: When Intensity Creates Friction

Knowing firsthand that all strengths come with a flipside, especially when they're as intense as they are in me, I asked what friction could show up.

Here's what it identified:

• Overdrive mode

• Impossible standards

• Control vs collaboration tension

• Low tolerance for stuckness

• Impatience with emotional processing

• Hyper-responsibility

I remember living this: pushing hard, moving fast, frustrated that others didn't match my pace.

At one point I told my boss I couldn't understand how people got away with working less hard. He said: "Dawn, it takes all sorts. Do you want to be doing the work they're doing? Can you imagine if everyone was like you?"

I did not.

The Evolution: How I've Changed

Then I asked ChatGPT: Based on what you know about me now, how have I changed?

The answer was eerily accurate. Here's what it reflected back:

From reactivity → regulation

I've built the capacity to stay calm and present in chaos. I don't just respond quickly anymore—I respond well.

From urgency → strategic pacing

I still move fast, but I've learned when to hold, when to pause, when to wait for the system (or the person) to catch up. Not everything benefits from more speed.

From perfection → discernment

My standards are still high, but I no longer confuse excellence with control. I know when "good enough" is exactly right and when it's not.

From control → orchestration

I used to carry everything. Now I build people and systems that can carry weight without me. I still have strong opinions, but I don't need to drive every outcome personally.

From emotional bypassing → emotional presence

I used to want to skip straight to solutions and avoid the awkward stuff. Now I hold space for what's actually happening. I have the real, uncomfortable conversations. I've learned that emotions hold meaning. Sometimes the most powerful thing you can do is stop trying to fix and start really seeing.

From solving → listening

I don't always jump to answers. I ask more questions. I hold silence. I make room for insights that need space to emerge.

This isn't about becoming "less intense." It's about learning when to deploy that intensity and when to lead with presence, patience, and calm.

That shift didn't just make me a better leader. It made me a better parent and partner—and better at the work I do with founders. It's what allows me to meet founders exactly where they are—in the mess, in the uncertainty—and help them navigate through it without losing themselves.

Don't get me wrong—I'm not perfect at this. I still catch myself defaulting to old patterns, especially under pressure. But now I notice faster and course-correct quicker. It's ongoing work, not a destination.

The How: What the Real Work Looked Like

But those shifts didn't happen by accident. And they definitely didn't happen overnight.

Because knowing you need to change—and actually changing—are two completely different things.

Here's what the real work looked like:

From reactivity → regulation

I started monitoring my internal state as closely as I tracked external metrics. I dove deep with expert practitioners to understand the nervous system, how our brains get wired, and how neurodivergence shapes how we experience the world differently. I built space between stimulus and response. I created rituals to reset before intensity tipped into friction. The game-changer: learning that calm is a leadership superpower, not a luxury.

From urgency → strategic pacing

I had to build internal regulation first and I started checking in with my nervous system. I learned to sit with discomfort without immediately solving it. I stopped reacting from pressure and started noticing what pace was actually required. The question that changed everything: Is now the time, or am I just uncomfortable with waiting?

From perfection → discernment

This was the hardest one. I got ruthlessly clear on what actually mattered and what moved the needle. I built decision frameworks to separate signal from noise, impact from ego. I stopped trying to prove I could do everything perfectly—and started choosing what deserved that level of attention. Not everything needs to be done to my personal standard of excellence.

From control → orchestration

I had to stop equating ownership with doing. I built systems, clarified structure, and surrounded myself with people who could carry real responsibility—not just execute tasks, but lead and deliver outcomes. I learned to lead through clarity and that trust isn't a feeling; it's a practice. And that excellence can look different in other people's hands. That was the shift from force to scale.

From emotional bypassing → emotional presence

I did my own inner work. I learned to sit with other people's emotions—and my own—without rushing to fix them. I discovered that what feels "inefficient" emotionally is often exactly what unlocks breakthroughs. I stopped rushing through discomfort and started holding space for it.

From solving → listening

I shifted from being the expert to being the partner. I stopped needing to be the smartest voice in the room and started helping others hear themselves more clearly. I built the muscle to stay quiet longer, ask more (and better) questions, and let the discomfort hang in the air.

The Ongoing Practice

None of this meant becoming less intense. It meant becoming more intentional with that intensity.

And here's the thing: these aren't one-time shifts. They're ongoing practices. I still catch myself defaulting to old patterns—especially under pressure. The difference is I notice faster and course-correct quicker.

This is the work I do with founders now. Because when you're wired for intensity—or wired differently—the goal isn't to dim it. It's to direct it.

Questions for Reflection

What have you had to unlearn in order to lead well? Where has growth required letting go?

Have you revisited your early career assessment results? Are you the same person? How have you adapted?

What patterns from your past are you still working with? Which ones have you learned to channel differently?