The Armor That Followed Me Home

“Sure, that’s fine.”

My partner said it again. For the third time that week.

We were planning a weekend trip. I’d already mapped the route, picked the restaurants, decided when we’d leave. I thought I was being helpful.

“What do you want to do?” I asked.

“Whatever you want. That’s fine.”

Something in her tone stopped me cold. It wasn’t agreement. It was resignation.

She’d stopped offering input because it didn’t matter. I’d already decided. And somewhere along the line, she’d learned it was just easier to let me.

That hit me harder than any 360 feedback ever did.

Because this wasn’t at work. This was at home. With someone I loved. And the same pattern I thought I’d left at the office had followed me through the front door.

When Did This Stop Being Just About Work?

Here’s what I’ve learned from years of coaching work and from looking hard at myself: We tell ourselves the control thing is a leadership style. A work habit. Something professional that stays contained at the office.

We’re lying to ourselves.

The truth? Control shows up everywhere. At dinner. During outdoor activities. On weekend mornings. The impatience in line at the store. The aggressive driving. The body language that takes up space even when you’re just standing there.

That control creates patterns of you always being “on.” And then people adjust their behavior around you. They check your mood before approaching. They defer to your decisions not because they agree, but because it’s easier than pushing back.

You’ve probably heard versions of this before. An ex-partner who said you were set in your ways, dominating, “too intense.” Family members who learned to walk on eggshells. Friends who stopped challenging you.

You told yourself they couldn’t handle your standards. But deep down, you felt the cost: being respected but not necessarily liked. Needed but not wanted.

Those moments with my partner made me ask myself questions I’d been avoiding: Why can’t I let go?

Here’s what I had to face: The armor I’d built, the strength, the certainty, the control, wasn’t something I put on at the office. It was fused to my skin. It had become part of my identity.

So I asked myself the hard question: What am I actually protecting myself from?

Not the surface answer. Not “things will fall apart.” I’m talking about the real fear. The one that lives in our chest at 3 AM.

For me, and for every dominant leader I’ve coached through this, the core terror isn’t about losing control of situations. It’s about losing relevance. About no longer being needed, no longer being essential.

Somewhere along the way, we learned that our value comes from being needed, from being indispensable. And we learned that vulnerability equals death, not literal death, but the death of who we think we are.

Everything is tied to that identity we created. And if we’re not that person anymore? Then what?

So we keep the armor on because we’re terrified of what happens if we don’t.

I see this fear in my coaching sessions all the time. The CEO, whose voice cracks when I ask if he ever asks for help. The leader who finally says, “I’m tired.”

That’s when I see the tender part underneath.

And that’s what most people never see, what you might have forgotten yourself: underneath that lion exterior, you’re a marshmallow. You have a kind heart. You feel things intensely, not just anger and frustration, but compassion, tenderness, love.

But you learned early that showing that softness was dangerous. That if you revealed your tender heart, you’d get hurt.

So you built the armor. You became the lion. And over time, the toughness you show the world became your prison, keeping out the pain but also keeping out the connection you actually crave.

Your partner might feel alone even though you’re right there. Your kids might not feel safe bringing their struggles to you. Your friendships stay at the surface.

But that person isn’t gone. That soft center, that kind, powerful heart, it’s still there. I know this because there are people in my life where the armor slips. Where I don’t have to be the strong one, the one with all the answers. In those moments, I feel the relief of not having to be “on.”

That’s when I started questioning everything: Is vulnerability really that dangerous? Or have I been believing a lie for so long that I forgot to question it?

What if the thing you’re protecting yourself from is actually what you need most?

What if that tender heart you’ve buried isn’t your weakness, it’s actually your strength?

When I finally started putting down the armor, not all at once, but in moments, with people I trusted, I didn’t disappear. I expanded. I became more effective, not less. My relationships deepened. My work got easier.

And the fear I’d been running from? It lost its power over me.

Until next time.

💙Roberto

P.S. If this hit close to home, you’re not alone. The armor we built to protect ourselves eventually becomes what keeps us isolated. But it doesn’t have to stay that way.

When you’re ready to go deeper:

1. Start with awareness → Take the self-assessment to see where you land on the “brilliant but difficult” scale

2. Get the research → Download “From Control to Connection“, 3 years of data on what transforms controlling leaders

3. Work with me directly → Book a consultation to explore how your patterns affect you

In my last newsletter, I asked if you’re the leader everyone fears.

Follow me, Roberto Giannicola, for more content and insights.

Book a call