An Honorable Discharge
Leadership Coaching & Development Series #4
The term ‘honorable discharge’ first came to me in an unexpected way: in the context of my husband’s back molar that had to be pulled because it could no longer serve its purpose. Just like that tooth, our outdated assumptions can serve us for a time, but when the conditions change, it’s time to release them — honorably — and make room for new possibilities.
In my coaching practice, I use the “four columns” model developed by Robert Kegan and Lisa Lahey, which helps surface sabotaging behaviors and hidden assumptions. When we uncover these assumptions, letting them go feels like an honorable discharge. They once served us, but now they no longer hold true, making space for new growth updated for the new conditions.
I’ve witnessed the powerful energetic shift an honorable discharge creates in my coaching practice. One example is when Bob, a client, was struggling with taking things too seriously and not being able to hold them lightly. As our conversation unfolded, we discovered that being on time was very important to him. With genuine emotion, he said, “I hate to be late. I simply cannot be late.” When I asked him why being on time mattered so much, he immediately responded, “Most of my career was in the military. In the military, if you’re late, you’re dead.” Then, he paused. I asked, “It sounds like you’re holding the assumption that being late leads to death. Is that still true now?” At that moment, I saw a profound relaxation on Bob’s face. He realized the assumption was no longer valid, and he was ready to give it an honorable discharge. The truth is, in the military, where being on time is critical, everything is structured to support that assumption. However, in civilian life, systems are organized differently, and that assumption is no longer reinforced. That’s why it needs to be honorably discharged.
This reminds me of a Zen story. A person crosses a river by riding on a boat but continues to carry the boat with him afterward. The Zen master asks, “Why are you carrying the boat now that you’ve already crossed the river? Let it go. Lighten your load.” This feels like the perfect metaphor for letting go of outdated assumptions that no longer serve our current circumstances.
The first challenge is identifying these assumptions — some run so deep that we mistake them for personal truths, allowing them to shape our lives without ever questioning them. Awareness is a crucial first step, often emerging through repeated tension when old assumptions no longer align with new realities. The second challenge is finding the courage to release assumptions, and this can feel threatening to one’s identity. The third challenge is cultivating new belief systems and behaviors to take their place. This process is never easy or linear.
When trauma is involved, it becomes even more complex. It requires the courage to confront past wounds, faith in the power of healing, and an awakening to life’s endless possibilities. Often, it is the yearning for something greater that creates the openness to examine old assumptions — and the courage to let them go.
At least, that has been my experience.
Just as Bob was able to release an old assumption about being on time, I encountered a similar realization when I met little Ellie Mae on a flight to Denver. In her joyful innocence, she reminded me of the anger I’ve been holding onto from my own childhood, a reminder of assumptions I’ve yet to discharge.
Little Ellie Mae was a delightful 3.5-year-old on her way to Aspen with her parents and younger brother Louis. She was full of spark, magic, and life. She walked up and down the aisle, chatting with everyone she met, sharing the joy in her demeanor. She was especially fascinated by my embroidery and asked if she could help. Her parents were loving and supportive, offering her space to explore while ever ready to protect her when needed.
As I admired Ellie Mae, I was unexpectedly confronted with the anger I’ve been carrying from the little girl inside me. The anger felt so real that I could feel the heaviness in my chest — a weight only deep, unaddressed wounds can cause. This was the second time recently that I’ve felt “her anger.” The first was during a conversation with a father of two teenage boys who was telling me about all the things he was doing to support his sons’ development. “Why don’t I have a father like him” I thought to myself, as the anger swelled within me.
When I refer to ‘her anger,’ I’m speaking about the unresolved emotions from my childhood, which I’ve learned to separate from my current identity in order to process and heal.
In my latest encounter with “her anger”, I embraced the anger with empathy. I was just like Ellie Mae when I was little — surrounded by a supportive, spacious environment to explore and spread my wings, but then, suddenly, all that vanished. Fear and sadness took over, and I didn’t even dare to feel angry because it was never safe to express that emotion. Now, though, the anger is starting to bubble up. “How could life do this to me?” This is the question the little girl in me keeps asking.
Growing up in an orphanage, my environment was neither supportive nor spacious. While I’ve reconciled many of those experiences and cultivated gratitude for what they taught me, I’ve also come to recognize a lingering assumption: When I’m part of a system, I can’t have space for my whole being. This belief once served me well — it preserved my hope that better conditions were ahead, allowing me to endure rather than succumb to the harsh realities of my teenage years. To a large extent, it has propelled me forward in co-creating the supportive environment I now have. Yet, this assumption has also been fueled by her anger, making it difficult to find true belonging, especially in binding relationships. It often leaves me feeling oppressed, even when reality isn’t as constraining as my assumption leads me to believe.
To let go of this assumption, I first need to address the anger I’ve been holding. “Her anger” was born when my family system was broken by my parents’ early deaths, and it intensified with each displacement I faced in different systems where I had to survive. How can I begin to release this anger? The courage to embark on this journey comes from the possibility of truly belonging and finding fulfillment within groups.
This assumption about the consequences of being part of a system is closely tied to another assumption: If I’m not part of a group, I’ll be exposed to danger and will die. This belief is fueled by “her” sadness and fear. I remember the night I became an orphan, finding my father dead. I tugged at my grandfather’s sleeve and asked, “Grandpa, you won’t abandon my sister and me, will you?” That’s when my fear of abandonment was born, and it haunted me until I was able to care for myself after college. But now, as I explore different options at this moment in life, the terror of being alone or unsupported is resurfacing.
This assumption is also influenced by the storyline my family has told about my father many many times. The narrative goes like this: If your father had stayed a teacher, none of this tragedy would have happened. Instead, he left the system, started a restaurant business, and it led to your mother’s death — and eventually, his own. The underlying message is clear: when you break away from the system, you suffer.
This assumption may have been true when I was a child, reliant on groups for survival. It helped keep me safe through life’s trials. I remember other orphans who escaped the system, only to fall into unfortunate circumstances. But this assumption no longer holds true for an adult who can fend for herself. Now, the challenge is to address the underlying fear and sadness around this belief — so I can be ready to let it go.
As I reflect on these assumptions and the emotions that fuel them, I recognize how they’ve shaped my decisions and relationships — often unconsciously guiding my actions. By facing these old wounds, I’ve freed myself to engage with life more fully and authentically, whether it’s in my coaching or in my personal relationships.
Just as Bob honorably discharged the assumption that being late leads to death, I now honorably discharge the beliefs that have kept me stuck. Like the Zen story of crossing the river, I’ve made it to the other side and am ready to leave the boat behind, unburdened and ready to embrace new possibilities.
On this other side of the river, the new beliefs I am cultivating are: I can hold space for my whole being within groups while also creating conditions for my own thriving as an independent individual. Above all, I commit to embodying creator consciousness rather than victim consciousness. I am excited about the new possibilities this new orientation will open up in my life.
Acknowledgment: I am deeply grateful to my friend Joseph Friedman for his generous coaching, which guided me toward uncovering my assumptions.
If you’re ready to uncover hidden assumptions and shift long-standing patterns, let’s explore together — book a FREE coaching session with me here.
