Transition in an Unlikely Place
A few years ago, a group of friends invited me on a dive trip to Mexico.
I said yes before I could talk myself out of it. Which, if you’ve ever considered strapping a tank to your back and descending 75 feet below the surface of the ocean, you’ll understand is the only way that kind of yes happens.
I’m a champion triathlete. I’m not someone who’s afraid of physical challenge. But there’s a particular brand of apprehension that comes from choosing to enter an environment your body was not designed for. The kind of apprehension that has you quietly Googling “scuba diving deaths” at 11pm the night before your first training session.
That feeling — the mix of genuine excitement and genuine fear — is one I’ve come to recognize. Not just from scuba diving. From every meaningful transition I’ve made.
What Preparation Actually Does
The scuba training was structured, deliberate, and demanding. We started in a pool. We learned the equipment. We practiced the protocols. Our dive instructor was calm and exacting — the kind of professional who treats competence as non-negotiable and makes you feel, through sheer steadiness, that you can do this.
By the time we reached open water, I wasn’t the same person who had Googled dive statistics the week before. Not because the ocean was any less deep. But because I had built the foundation that made the leap possible.
That’s what preparation does in a transition. It doesn’t remove the uncertainty. It changes your relationship to it.
The Moment Everything Changed
On our first open water dive, something unexpected happened. About 30 feet below the surface, surrounded by a world that had no sound, no rush, no noise — I felt completely calm.
Not managed calm. Not gritted-teeth calm. Genuine, settled, present calm.
I had crossed from anxiety into clarity. And the distance between those two states wasn’t the ocean — it was the work I’d done to prepare for it.
I thought about that moment for weeks afterward. Because it’s exactly what I watch happen in the executives I coach through major transitions.
What This Has to Do With Leadership
The transitions that bring senior leaders to coaching are rarely simple. A role ending unexpectedly. A promotion that puts them in fundamentally new territory. A season of life that makes them question whether the path they’re on is still the one they want.
The fear is real. The uncertainty is real. The instinct to manage it by moving faster, working harder, pushing through — that’s real too.
But what I’ve found, both in my own experience and in years of transition advising, is that the leaders who navigate change most effectively are not the ones who resist the discomfort. They’re the ones who do the preparation work — the inner work — that allows them to enter the transition with clarity rather than just momentum.
Clarity about where they’re going. Clarity about what they’re willing to leave behind. Clarity about who they want to become on the other side.
That’s not work you can do by pushing through. It’s work you do by slowing down long enough to actually look.
If you’re in the middle of a transition — or you can feel one approaching — I’d welcome a conversation. No agenda. Just clarity.
About Steve
Steve Buisson, PCC is the Founder and CEO of Executive Balance LLC and a former Fortune 500 Business Unit Risk Officer. A Professional Certified Coach credentialed by the International Coaching Federation, he specializes in executive coaching, transition advising, and mentoring for senior leaders and business owners. Based in North Carolina, Steve works with a limited number of clients nationwide — by design.
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