I bought my first set of Technics 1200s when I was 23.
I’d just moved to Brighton and fallen in love with the rave scene. So I did what any obsessed person would do. I bought the decks, stocked up on US Garage and house vinyl straight out of Chicago, and spent hours and hours learning to mix on a rubbish pair of speakers.
And here’s what I remember most.
When I was alone in my bedroom, mixing with nobody watching, I’d get right into a groove. Time disappeared, everything went smoothly and I got lost in the feeling of it.
Then I met my boyfriend at the time and he was into it too, and we’d spend whole evenings just playing, mixing and laughing.
And then opportunities started to come to play out in public.
That’s when the nerves kicked in.
Because the moment people were watching, the thing I loved at home became something else. It became a performance, a test and a spotlight.
And I’ve always known this about myself. I’m fine in the spotlight if I’m prepared and confident. But if I’m not, I crumble.
I got the opportunity to play at Concorde 2 and the deck broke.
After that my confidence plummeted. I didn’t want to play vinyl anymore. So I sold the decks. I kept the vinyl, and kept the love for the music.
But I stopped doing the thing. Until lockdown.
A friend suggested I go digital and get a controller. Digital was completely different. You can make mistakes and it’s not as obvious. My confidence soared. I started playing out again and felt way more like myself.
Then the opportunity came for me to do a radio slot. And of course… I crumbled again.
Which is how I came to understand a distinction that has become a leadership lesson too.
There’s a difference between following something for joy and doubling down on it as a skill.
Neither is “better”. But they require different conditions, different mindsets, and different support.
And when we don’t recognise the difference, we end up doing something that used to feel alive, while wondering why it suddenly feels heavy.
The leadership parallel: when joy becomes performance
I see this pattern constantly in leadership.
A leader finds their groove privately first. They experiment. They find their voice in small rooms. They learn through repetition and they build confidence from low-stakes practice.
Then they step into visibility:
- presenting to senior stakeholders
- leading bigger meetings
- managing a difficult person
- representing the team publicly
- stepping into a more senior role
And suddenly what was once natural becomes self-conscious, because the context has changed.
When the stakes rise, our nervous system hears: be perfect or be rejected.
And for some people, especially those who are high empathy, high responsibility, and very aware of how they land, visibility can flip from energising to threatening in a heartbeat.
They can be brilliant in preparation, and then crumble in the live moment if the conditions don’t feel safe.
This is not a character flaw, it’s a pressure response.
And it’s why “just be more confident” is one of the least helpful pieces of advice we give leaders.
Joy is one kind of motivation. Mastery is another.
Here’s the simplest way I can put it:
Joy-led energy is playful, exploratory, and forgiving.
Mastery-led energy is focused, measured, and exposed.
Joy thrives in privacy, freedom, and experimentation.
Mastery thrives in structure, feedback, and repetition under pressure.
When we accidentally treat a joy-space like a mastery-space, we squeeze the life out of it.
And when we try to perform mastery without the foundations, we lose trust in ourselves.
The moment you start to shrink, it’s just data.
That “crumble” moment is often your most useful sign.
It tells you one of four things is missing:
- Preparation (you didn’t have time or structure to practise)
- Psychological safety (the environment feels evaluative, not supportive)
- Permission to be human (you think mistakes will cost you status)
- A realistic growth path (you’re asking yourself to perform before you’ve practised)
When we read that sign as a personal inadequacy, we stop.
When we read it as information, we can adjust and continue.
How leaders can apply this: 6 practical pointers
Here are a few ways to bring this distinction into your leadership life immediately.
1) Decide what stays in joy
Not everything needs to become a performance metric.
Ask:
What do I want to keep as mine, for aliveness, creativity, and energy, even if it never becomes impressive?
Protect at least one thing in your life from being “useful”.
2) Separate practice from performance
If you want to master something publicly, give it a private container first.
This is the difference between rehearsing your message with one trusted person… versus “winging it” in a room of twenty.
3) Create your “safe reps”
Confidence isn’t a mindset, it’s an accumulation of safe repetition.
Ask:
Where can I practise this at 20% stakes before I do it at 100%?
4) Treat nerves as a normal body response
Nerves aren’t a sign you can’t do it, they’re a sign you care.
Try:
My body is preparing me.
not
My body is betraying me.
5) Build pre-spotlight routines
You don’t need to become fearless, but you do need a reliable runway.
Examples:
- a 3-line “opening script” for meetings
- a 60-second breathing reset before presenting
- a short checklist: purpose, audience, one key point
- a “first minute” plan to settle your nervous system
6) When it stops feeling like love, change the relationship
This is the biggest one.
If something that once lit you up now feels like pressure, don’t force it.
Ask:
Do I need to bring this back to joy?
or
Do I want to build mastery here with better foundations?
Either answer is valid.
The real point: return to joy, on purpose
I’ve got something coming up soon with the amazing Sam Adams, and it’s going to be epic.
And I already know why I’ll enjoy it: I’ll be in my element, there won’t be pressure, and it will feel natural.
It’ll feel like joy again. So if you’ve got something you love that has started to feel heavy..
Maybe you don’t need more discipline or to “push through”.
Maybe you just need to take it back to where it started, to the bit that made you lose track of time. Back to joy.
Because for many leaders, joy is the fuel that makes mastery sustainable.
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Find out more about me here www.helenpackham.com
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