Signed in as:
filler@godaddy.com
Signed in as:
filler@godaddy.com
I’m Esther Walker — a former senior global leader within one of the world’s most complex and highly regulated industries, where I spent just under a decade operating at the highest levels of commercial, operational, and governance responsibility.
At the age of 32, I was headhunted into the oil and gas sector to lead a failing global operation.
Within seven years, I had reached directorship level.
Year after year, I was recognised as a top performer across thousands of leaders internationally — for restoring stability, clarity, and results in complex environments.
I didn’t succeed by pushing harder.
I succeeded by leading differently.

What I did differently — and why it worked
My leadership journey began in global CRM and loyalty marketing strategy before I was headhunted into a highly pressurised industrial environment to lead a complex global operation.
Early on, I learned something fundamental:
No matter how complex a system appears, it is ultimately held together by human behaviour.
By restoring clarity, accountability, and relational coherence, performance followed — consistently and measurably. Within months, outcomes stabilised and improved, not through process alone, but through people.
That experience confirmed what I had always sensed intuitively:
When trust and connection are restored, systems self-heal.
I went on to design and implement an Operational Excellence Service Model that became a global framework for supplier and service governance across 35 countries. It was independently audited and recognised as best-in-class.
Budgets stabilised.
Teams re-engaged.
Outcomes improved.
Not through force — but through coherence.
Not through performance — but through presence.

What became visible at senior levels
The reflections shared here are drawn from my own lived experience of leadership within high-pressure, performance-driven environments. They are offered as insight into patterns common across many complex systems, and are not intended as criticism of any specific organisation or individuals.
As I moved into more senior leadership roles, a pattern came into focus.
The pressure leaders were operating under was immense. In such environments, performance can become more than a measure of output — it can become an identity.
Certainty may be prioritised over truth.
Compliance over conscience.
Process over responsibility.
From my perspective, what is often interpreted as strength in these settings may in fact be emotional suppression. What appears as control can be a way of managing fear.
Leadership itself does not necessarily fail — but it can become constrained by the conditions in which it operates.
As hierarchy intensifies, certain behaviours may become normalised and even rewarded: dominance over dialogue, force over listening, certainty over reality.
In such cultures, it can feel safer to comply than to speak.
The impact is systemic.
Externally, partners may become guarded. Internally, people may stop raising issues early, stop thinking creatively, and lose confidence that honesty will be met with respect.
Organisations can remain highly capable — yet become relationally constrained.
Again and again, I observed that the underlying issue was rarely intelligence, talent, or technology.
It was the way people were relating.
When psychological safety, respect, and genuine listening were restored, solutions emerged quickly. What had appeared complex was often not technically blocked, but relationally blocked.

Like most people, I carried a fundamental human need for belonging. In my early leadership years, I adapted — consciously and unconsciously — to the expectations required to succeed within performance-driven systems.
By conventional measures, I did succeed.
Over time, however, it became clear that continuing to belong came at a personal cost once I stopped conforming to ways of relating that were causing visible strain — not only to me, but to those around me.
As pressure intensified, the space to speak honestly narrowed. The emotional load increased.
What had once been professional challenge took on the weight of sustained personal strain.
I witnessed capable people struggling — anxiety, exhaustion, and distress were no longer exceptional. Many carried this quietly.
The more I led through presence, responsibility, and human connection, the more misaligned I became with prevailing norms. Over time, it became clear that there was no neutral ground left.
My departure was not a single decision made in clarity or comfort. It was the outcome of sustained misalignment between how I was leading and what the system was designed to hold.
That experience came at a significant personal cost.
It also clarified everything.
Leadership cultures that prioritise performance over coherence do not simply limit organisations — they carry a cumulative human cost.

Why my leadership style felt different
At the time, I did not have language for this. I was not consciously working with feminine leadership principles, nor did I understand the dynamics I was navigating. I was simply leading in the only way that felt truthful and effective to me.
Only later did I understand why I often felt like a square peg in a round hole — successful on paper, yet subtly out of step with the prevailing culture.
As a woman operating in highly competitive, male-dominated, profit-driven environments,
I brought:
I was once told to “stop being so nice” and to “raise my voice more”.
What I understand now is this:
Kindness is not the absence of strength — it is its refinement.
Balance isn’t weakness. It’s intelligence.
The same imbalance persists today.
Diversity has become a metric rather than a transformation. Even when women reach decision-making tables, they are often expected to lead in the same ways as their male peers. Qualities such as reflection, collaboration, compassion, and intuitive intelligence are still routinely undervalued, while pressure, fear, and control are rewarded as strength.
I lived this imbalance. I felt the pressure it created — and I walked through it.
That lived experience has become both my perspective and my purpose:
to help leaders restore coherence between power and care, strategy and soul, the masculine and the feminine.
Because when leadership returns to balance, people thrive.
Organisations stabilise.
And systems begin to heal.

Today, I work with senior leaders who are successful on paper — and deeply uncomfortable inside.
People who:
My work does not begin with strategy.
It begins with the leader.
From decades of lived leadership experience emerged a practical body of work I call The Psychology of Being™ — an applied understanding of how people behave, decide, relate, and lead under real-world conditions.
It is not a theory.
And it is not something leaders are asked to “study”.
It simply underpins the way I work.
Through the Oak Tree Leadership Ecosystem, I help leaders restore coherence between who they are, how they decide, and what their systems produce.
From that place:

A final note
I don’t work with everyone.
I work with those ready to tell the truth — to themselves first.
Because beneath every policy is a person.
Beneath every system, a human nervous system.
And beneath every leadership failure, a loss of coherence.
When leaders return to inner coherence, the systems they lead begin to heal.
The oak does not strive to grow; it simply remembers the code within its seed.
And so do we.

I work with leaders who feel different and are ready to make a difference.
If you're carrying responsibility for a system under strain, a conversation is the right place to begin.
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