Why leaders are still scared to ask for help in 2025

Until leaders feel safe to say, “I need help,” the rest of the organisation won’t either, writes Nick Orchard.

Back in 2019, I was sitting in a professional learning session with 60 other senior executives from across industries. We were each asked to share what was holding us back from achieving our full potential as leaders.

The responses were predictable: not enough budget, not enough authority, not enough time, not enough skilled staff. The group chuckled knowingly at the similarities.

I was second last to speak.

“I’m absolutely crushed by impostor syndrome,” I said. “I feel like a fraud, and I’m certain any day now people will realise I have no idea what I’m doing. It’s terrifying, and it’s pretty much all I can think about.”

You could hear a pin drop. A few of the more “alpha” members of the group scowled. Then, the last person to speak, a CEO of a large allied health organisation, said quietly, “It’s impostor syndrome for me too. It’s killing me.”

Someone called out: “Can I change my answer to impostor syndrome, too?”

When I asked for a show of hands, more than three-quarters of the room went up.

That moment has stuck with me for years.

Because despite all our talk about psychological safety, inclusion, and authentic leadership, the silence around impostor syndrome at senior levels remains deafening. Research shows that 70 per cent of people experience impostor syndrome at some point, with senior leaders particularly susceptible.

The leader as oracle

In traditional hierarchies, leaders were expected to show up with answers, not questions. We were taught that credibility came from certainty and that being seen to hesitate or admit doubt would make us look weak.

That model worked, at least for a time, in the command-and-control era when the pace of change was slower and information flowed in one direction. But in today’s world, where complexity, ambiguity and AI-driven change are constant, pretending to have all the answers is not only unrealistic. It is dangerous.

It creates a cultural expectation that asking for help is a sign of incompetence rather than wisdom.

When everyone in the boardroom is scanning each other for signs of weakness, all they see are polished surfaces. Each leader thinks they are the only one struggling, when in reality, everyone is performing the same exhausting act.

Fear of being “found out” shapes behaviour in ways that actively undermine performance. Leaders with impostor syndrome often hoard work because they are convinced that delegating will expose their flaws. They avoid stretch opportunities out of fear that they will be caught. They overcompensate by overworking, mistaking exhaustion for achievement.

I know this because I have done it.

I never felt like the smartest person in the room, but I was certain I could outwork anyone. Until I couldn’t.

That relentless drive to prove myself led straight to burnout. And it is a path I now recognise in countless leaders I coach. These are smart, high-performing people who are quietly drowning under the weight of their own expectations.

In my work with leaders and teams, I have seen a powerful shift. Teams are no longer inspired by invincibility; they are inspired by humanity. In an AI-saturated, post-2020 world, people do not want superhuman leaders. They want real ones.

In today’s workplace, vulnerability is a competitive advantage. When leaders talk openly about the challenges they are facing, they invite their teams into the problem-solving process. They model curiosity instead of control, and learning instead of fear.

The result is extraordinary: greater psychological safety, stronger collaboration and teams that are more resilient because they see that imperfection is not just tolerated, it is part of the process.

Breaking the cycle

So how can leaders start to dismantle the impostor syndrome cycle?

It begins with reframing “not knowing” as curiosity rather than inadequacy. When a leader says, “I don’t know, but I’d love your thoughts,” it signals that learning and problem solving are shared responsibilities.

It means creating peer circles where honesty is rewarded. Senior leaders need spaces where they can be themselves, warts and all, and speak candidly about what is really going on. Confidentiality is key, but so is compassion.

It also means modelling the behaviour you want to see. When leaders ask for help and do it publicly, it normalises it for everyone else. It turns “I don’t know” into an invitation rather than an admission of failure.

And finally, it requires challenging the myth that being “always on” is the same as being effective. Hard work is not the same as good leadership. The best leaders are disciplined about rest and boundaries because they understand that burnout helps no one.

The irony is that the leaders who feel like impostors are often the ones who care the most. They care deeply about their teams, their integrity and getting it right.

But care without compassion for ourselves and for others quickly turns toxic.

If we want to build high-performing organisations, we need to start recognising that high wellbeing is not a “nice to have” or a reward for hard work; it’s the foundation that makes high performance possible. The most successful workplaces understand that wellbeing drives clarity, creativity, and sustainable output. This is exactly what I focus on in the workplace training I run, helping leaders and teams build systems that reduce burnout, boost wellbeing, and, in turn, boost performance.

If we want to build psychologically safe workplaces, we need to start with the people at the top. The ones who are quietly terrified of being found out. The ones who have been taught that showing vulnerability is dangerous.

Because until leaders feel safe to say, “I need help,” the rest of the organisation won’t either.

Nick Orchard is the founder of The Big Refresh and an IECL-certified performance coach.