High-Stakes Lifeforce: Why Simplistic Advice Always Falls Short for Complex Leaders

Field notes. 
By Kristen Tolbert

People study entrepreneurs like we're zoo animals—something to be observed, analyzed, maybe even envied. We're a curiosity, a puzzle to solve. What makes someone choose this life?

It’s true, we’re wired differently. Our drivers, our non-negotiables, our definitions of success—they don’t line up with most people’s.

If you're wondering whether we’re broken, traumatized, or running from something—the answer is yes. Always yes. But that’s only part of it. We build because we have to. We solve problems obsessively because building isn't optional for us—it's lifeforce.

But a better question is: why are you so curious? What are you trying to understand about yourself by studying us?

Because whatever fascinates you about hard-charging types likely reveals something important about what you value, fear, or secretly want. And you should know what that is for yourself.

When outsiders try to understand high-stakes leadership from afar—no matter how closely they study—it’s inevitably filtered through their lens. Without the visceral experience of actually owning the complexity, the nuances disappear. They flatten complexities into comfortable narratives, simplifying the realities into tidy explanations that feel clear but miss entirely the depth and gravity of what’s really at stake.

That's why basic advice or simplistic solutions rarely resonate with people leading at this level. Telling someone they just need a vacation, a break, or a few minutes to meditate misses the mark entirely. It trivializes the immense responsibility of keeping the business thriving—ensuring everyone gets paid, stays employed, and the whole system remains alive.

What outsiders don't see are the relentless waves of unseen problems looming just beyond the horizon—challenges only visible when you're truly in it, fully immersed in the intellectual and emotional loop of survival-level decision-making. Solving the most urgent problems isn't a stressor we can simply step away from; it's central to the life force of everything we hold together.

It’s like telling a pregnant woman mid-contraction to take a spa day—or suggesting she just deliver the baby early so she can cross it off her list and move on.

Or asking a boxer to call a timeout seconds before the bell rings so he can visualize winning and "get his mindset right."

It’s telling an attorney to step away for a bathroom break mid-sentence during closing arguments.

It’s like advising a pilot to step out of the cockpit to clear their head when turbulence hits at 30,000 feet.

Or asking the captain of a ship to take a quick nap while navigating through hurricane-force winds.

Each scenario reveals something critical: timing, context, and the weight of responsibility matter deeply. Effective support demands first deeply understanding the core complexity driving what appears, from the outside, to be stress or difficulty. Without that nuanced grasp, even well-intentioned advice—like "just breathe" or "take a break"—falls flat, failing to capture the real gravity of what's at stake.

People operating at this level are sharp. They think at a high level, constantly solving complex problems. You've got to know and respect that. Offering basic advice won't suffice—they aren't struggling with intellectual sophistication or needing productivity tips like the Pomodoro method. They need people who truly understand how to think through problems. Not necessarily to provide instant solutions, but to ask the right questions, unpack the core issue, and iterate intelligently. They need to be around others who know how to think.

So ask yourself again: Why are you really curious? Because whatever fascinates you about others reveals what you secretly want, fear, or deeply value. And if you're smart—if you're honest—you won't just wonder about us. You'll figure that out for yourself.

These are my personal reflections and observations on high-stakes leadership. I might do more of these as bandwidth allows, but no promises. —kt.