Category: MY THERAPY JOURNEY

Ego, leadership, and the person-centred approach

Post author By graham
Post date January 20, 2026
No Comments on Ego, leadership, and the person-centred approach

On the first evening of our Person-Centred Approach course last night, the nature of ego was raised. To begin with there’s the difference between the Freudian use of the term and the lay person’s. Key here, though, is what it would look like for a leader to put their own needs and desires aside when they are supporting their team, and the individuals in it, to grow to their fullest potential with the achievement of the organisation’s goals as inevitable side products.

When ego arises in leadership, it shows itself in behaviour before it shows in thought. A leader led by ego seeks control, status, or safety. They speak to prove a point. They move to fix problems before they understand them. They listen for threat rather than meaning. Even with good intent, their actions pull attention back to themselves. On the other hand, in a person-centred frame, leadership begins when those habits loosen.

A leader who sets ego aside behaves in a distinctive way. They enter meetings without the need to perform. They ask questions and allow answers to stand, even when those answers unsettle them. They do not rush to fill silence. They notice their own wish to steer or rescue, and they choose restraint. This does not make them passive. It makes them precise. They act with care rather than impulse.

Such a leader relates to staff as capable adults. They resist using power to shape outcomes too soon. They offer clarity of role and purpose, then step back. When someone struggles, they do not turn the moment into a test of loyalty or skill. They stay present, reflect meaning, and trust the person’s drive to grow. This stance draws directly on the work of Carl Rogers, where empathy, congruence, and unconditional positive regard form a climate for change.

In practice, this means the leader does not need to be the cleverest voice in the room. They share authority and credit. They accept feedback without defence. They name limits without blame. When conflict appears, they slow the process rather than escalate it. Staff learn that honesty does not lead to harm. As fear drops, learning rises.

From this base, results follow without force. People invest in work that feels meaningful and fair. Initiative spreads because it feels safe to act. Alignment with organisational aims grows because those aims no longer feel imposed. The leader’s needs for recognition or control fade from view, not through denial, but through trust in the process.

This form of leadership does not reject the ego in the technical sense described by Sigmund Freud. It relies on a stable self that can bear doubt and restraint. What it sets aside is the need to protect status. When that need loosens, leadership becomes less about direction and more about cultivation.

And what is going on for a leader who lacks this level of self-development?

When a leader lacks this level of self-development, their behaviour often signals an inner strain they do not yet recognise. They experience leadership as exposure rather than service. Each meeting feels like a test. Each challenge feels personal. Their actions seek relief from unease rather than growth in others.

Such a leader protects the self through control. They talk too much, interrupt, or close debate early. They offer answers before questions have formed. They monitor loyalty and react fast to dissent. Feedback lands as threat, not data. These acts do not stem from malice. They arise from anxiety that has no place to settle. The leader has not learned how to hold uncertainty without defence.

In these moments, the leader’s attention stays fixed inward. They track how they appear, how they rank, and whether they feel secure. This inward pull limits empathy. They struggle to stay with another person’s account when it clashes with their own view. They confuse disagreement with disrespect. Growth in others feels risky because it might weaken their grip on authority.

From a person centred view, this pattern reflects gaps in self-trust. The leader has not yet formed a stable sense of worth that stands apart from role or praise. Without that base, they seek validation through outcomes and compliance. They need quick wins and clear signs of success. They push for alignment before meaning has formed. Staff sense this and respond with caution rather than commitment.

This pattern echoes the everyday use of ego rather than the technical sense described by Sigmund Freud. The issue does not lie in weak ego function, but in a fragile self-concept. The leader cannot yet allow others to lead parts of the work because that feels like loss. They cannot sit with silence because it feels empty rather than fertile.

By contrast, the stance described by Carl Rogers rests on inner security. When that security has not formed, the leader substitutes structure, pressure, or charm. These tools may deliver short-term results, yet they erode trust. Learning slows. Initiative shrinks. The organisation meets targets while losing spirit.

Development here does not require technique. It requires space for reflection, honest feedback, and safe challenge. Until the leader can meet their own fear without defence, they will keep meeting others through control.

References

Rogers, C. R. (1951). Client-Centered Therapy. Boston: Houghton Mifflin.
Rogers, C. R. (1961). On Becoming a Person. London: Constable.
Freud, S. (1923). The Ego and the Id. Vienna: Internationaler Psychoanalytischer Verlag.

MY THERAPY JOURNEY PURE BLOG

When parents grow old…

People often describe a moment when their parents begin to feel like children. The phrase captures something real, yet it also misleads. What changes is not a return to childhood, but a shift in responsibility, power, and care. This shift unfolds through health, loss, and social context rather than age alone. Understanding this distinction matters because it shapes how adult children respond, and how older parents retain their dignity and sense of self.

The first signs tend to appear in midlife. An adult child notices small lapses in memory, growing trouble with forms, or unease with new systems. These moments mark the start of a role change. The parent no longer acts only as guide or protector. They begin to need support. Blenkner (1965) described this process as “filial maturity”, where the adult child learns to see the parent as a vulnerable other rather than as an authority figure. This change does not depend on the number of years lived; it depends on a new balance of risk and care.

As health declines, so the shift deepens. Illness, frailty, or bereavement can erode habits that once happened without any thought. The adult child now steps in to manage appointments, finances, or safety. Many people describe this as becoming “the parent”, but what they often mean is that they now hold foresight and responsibility. Zarit et al. (1980) showed that this change in role places a heavy emotional load on adult children, not because care itself feels wrong, but because it alters their own identity and expectations. The past relationship does not vanish, it rubs alongside the present one.

It is tempting to read this change as regression. Yet psychological theory argues against this view. In Erikson’s (1982) account of the life course, later life centres on meaning, loss, and review, not a return to earlier stages of dependence. Older adults may seek routine, resist change, or rely on others, but these acts arise from adaptation to loss rather than from childlike development. Baltes and Smith (2003) frame ageing as a mix of gains and losses, managed through selective dependence and compensation. Dependence here reflects skill and judgement, not failure.

Calling older parents “like children” also risks infantilisation. Children grow towards autonomy and power. Older adults often move away from them. On the surface these may look alike; both may need help with dressing, transport, or planning, for example. However, the meaning differs, as the older person carries a lifetime of identity, values, and memory. Treating dependence as a return to childhood erases this history and can strip dignity. Steinman (1979) warned that role reversal should never imply a loss of personhood, since the parent remains a full moral agent even when dependent.

The emotional strain of this shift often links to unfinished business. Brody (1985) showed that distress in caregiving stems less from the tasks themselves and more from earlier conflict, guilt, or unmet needs within the relationship. When adult children hold power over parents who once shaped their lives, old wounds can surface. Care then becomes a site of moral testing. Can one offer help without revenge? Can one guide without control?

Culture and social structure shape when and how this shift occurs. In families with shared homes or strong kin networks, responsibility may spread across many hands. The change then feels slower and less stark. Conversely, in societies where work and housing pull families apart, crisis often triggers a sudden role reversal. Finch and Mason (1993) showed that class, gender, and cultural norms all govern who provides care and how it feels. Policy also matters as strong health and social care systems can delay dependence and reduce strain on individuals and families. Weak systems, though, push families into roles they may feel unready to hold.

It helps to replace the idea of parents becoming children with a more nuanced perspective. What unfolds is a renegotiation of responsibility across time; authority softens, care flows back. The parent does not shrink into childhood, but enters a phase marked by loss, need, and reflection. The adult child enters a phase marked by duty, grief, and moral labour. Each must adapt.

This distinction matters. It protects older adults from being spoken to as if they lacked sense or worth. It also frees adult children from the false belief that care means dominance. Good care recognises dependence while honouring history. It supports without erasure. The task is hard, because it asks people to hold two truths at once. The parent needs help. The parent remains themselves. Age sets the stage, but life writes the script.

References

Baltes, P. B., & Smith, J. (2003). New frontiers in the future of aging: From successful aging of the young old to the dilemmas of the fourth age. Gerontology, 49(2), 123–135.

Blenkner, M. (1965). Social work and family relationships in later life. Social Service Review, 39, 318–329.

Brody, E. M. (1985). Parent care as a normative family stress. The Gerontologist, 25(1), 19–29.

Erikson, E. H. (1982). The life cycle completed. New York: Norton.

Finch, J., & Mason, J. (1993). Negotiating family responsibilities. London: Routledge.

Steinman, S. (1979). The older parent–adult child relationship. Journal of Marriage and the Family, 41(2), 275–287.

Zarit, S. H., Reever, K. E., & Bach-Peterson, J. (1980). Relatives of the impaired elderly: Correlates of feelings of burden. The Gerontologist, 20(6), 649–655.