We love the word “breakthrough.” It sounds dramatic. Transformational. Like the stuff movies are made of.

We imagine a blinding flash of insight, a tearful release, or the kind of moment where the clouds part, light pours down, and you walk away knowing nothing will ever be the same again.

That image is powerful. But it’s also misleading.

According to Merriam-Webster, a breakthrough is simply:

“An act or instance of moving through or beyond an obstacle.”

Notice what’s missing from that definition. There’s no mention of fireworks. No requirement for tears. No demand that you have a “mountaintop moment” before your life counts as changed.

By definition, a breakthrough is about what happens after—the clearing that lets you move forward. The process leading to it may be dramatic or subtle. But the breakthrough itself is simply the result: the obstacle is gone, and you are free to move.

This distinction matters, because too many people dismiss their own progress. If they don’t “feel” a breakthrough in some obvious, emotional way, they assume they haven’t had one. They miss the small shifts, the quiet reorientations, and the subtle changes that actually free them from what was blocking their path.

And that means they overlook the most important breakthroughs of all.

Therapy often produces moments that feel like breakthroughs because it’s designed to keep people in their pain until they find a release. That catharsis feels big and memorable. What we often call “breakthrough” is more accurately “release.”

But not every obstacle is emotional. Not every block is buried trauma. Sometimes the obstacle is performance, clarity, or execution. Sometimes the barrier is simply the way we’ve been framing our own choices.

And here’s the truth: when the block isn’t emotional, the breakthrough usually doesn’t feel emotional either. It’s quieter. Subtler. It may even feel uneventful. But by definition, it is still a breakthrough.

That’s why coaching, NLP, and leadership development often create spectacular results without delivering a spectacular process. The obstacle is cleared, but there’s no dramatic scene to mark the moment. A week later, you just realize the problem that used to trip you up… no longer does.

These small, nearly invisible shifts are easy to dismiss. But they are often the ones that stick.

Therapy often produces moments that feel like breakthroughs because it’s designed to keep people in their pain until they find a release. That catharsis feels big and memorable. What we often call “breakthrough” is more accurately “release.”

But not every obstacle is emotional. Not every block is buried trauma. Sometimes the obstacle is performance, clarity, or execution. Sometimes the barrier is simply the way we’ve been framing our own choices.

And here’s the truth: when the block isn’t emotional, the breakthrough usually doesn’t feel emotional either. It’s quieter. Subtler. It may even feel uneventful. But by definition, it is still a breakthrough.

That’s why coaching, NLP, and leadership development often create spectacular results without delivering a spectacular process. The obstacle is cleared, but there’s no dramatic scene to mark the moment. A week later, you just realize the problem that used to trip you up… no longer does.

These small, nearly invisible shifts are easy to dismiss. But they are often the ones that stick.

Inside my Core Impact Compass™, I talk about four domains of leadership—Self, Relational, Visionary, and Executional. A small shift can show up in any of them. And while the change might look insignificant on the surface, its ripple effect can completely transform how you lead yourself, your work, and your relationships.

Let’s take a closer look at what these small-shift breakthroughs look like in practice

We all tell ourselves stories, and those stories shape how we feel.

After losing our home to wildfire, people expected me to say things like:
“It’s devastating. We lost everything.”

But the language I chose was different:

• “This is painful.” That was true, and it was enough,
• “We lost things, but not our memories.”

That distinction mattered more than most people realize. Calling something “painful” made it temporary. Pain is localized, specific to a moment. It doesn’t define who you are forever. By contrast, calling something “devastating” broadens it. It awfulizes it. It makes the experience bigger than the event itself.

By choosing language that was true without being catastrophic, I anchored myself—and my family—in resilience.

As the oldest surviving member of my family, I had become the family historian. Genealogy records, photographs, heirlooms—every bit of family history was in my possession. And in the fire, all of it was lost. I remember saying out loud, as we drove away: “They’re just talismans for the memories. The memories themselves live in us.”

That wasn’t denial. It was design. Experience design. The small linguistic shift reframed not just my own reality, but my family’s reality too. We all stopped spiraling into what we “should have grabbed” and instead held onto what we still had: each other, our memories, and our future.

That was a breakthrough. Quiet. Subtle. Ordinary words spoken in an extraordinary moment.

I once worked with a company where one employee was going through a major life crisis. They often came to work raw and emotional, and the entire team—from the CEO down to peers—responded by trying to fix them.

The person became the “identified patient.” Every conversation circled back to how they were doing. Every interaction turned into a rescue mission.

The breakthrough came when the team shifted its stance to something simpler: “Your pain is real. We can’t fix it, and we don’t need to.”

That small change allowed everyone to breathe. The employee was no longer treated as broken or fragile. They were allowed to process their pain without interference, while still being recognized as a valuable member of the team.

The nuance here is important: this wasn’t about ignoring their pain. It was about no longer trying to take it away. That space—respectful, non-controlling, non-fixing—was exactly what allowed them to fully heal.

The breakthrough wasn’t dramatic. It was simply learning to ask:

• “Is there anything I can do?”
• “Is it anything I’ve already done?”

If the answer was no, the team could release responsibility. That tiny shift changed the dynamic instantly. It turned the employee from a project back into a person.

At home, I use the same two questions in personal relationships. If both answers are no, I know the situation isn’t mine to control. That shift has released me from years of codependency, and given others the dignity of their own process.

Visionary leadership often gets tangled in pressure. People are told to have a five-year plan, a legacy vision, a bold strategy. And when they don’t, they feel behind.

Here’s the small shift:

• “I should have a five-year plan.” → pressure, guilt, shame.
• “I could have a five-year plan.” → possibility, choice, empowerment.

One word changes everything.

Should is heavy. It assumes obligation and judges you if you don’t comply.
Could is light. It invites possibility without pressure.

The external situation hasn’t changed—you may or may not create that five-year plan. But internally, you’ve gone from burden to agency. That’s the breakthrough.

No tears. No catharsis. Just a tiny shift in language that reframes how you experience yourself as a leader.

Execution breakthroughs are the least flashy of all. And yet, they’re often the most transformative.

For one client, the breakthrough was trading in a weekly to-do list (that never got done) for a daily “one non-negotiable move.”

For another, it was replacing “I’ll think about it” with “I’ll decide by Friday.”

That may sound insignificant. But here’s the truth: no amount of therapy or leadership programs had fixed their chronic indecision. This tiny, ordinary, almost forgettable change built consistency, confidence, and momentum that nothing else had managed to spark.

The obstacle was cleared. They could finally move forward.

That’s a breakthrough.

This is the heartbeat of Core Impact.

• Experience Design is how we experience ourselves. The stories we tell. The words we choose. The meaning we assign to events.

• Behavior Design is how others experience us. The way we smile, pause, listen, or choose curiosity over judgment.

Small shifts live in both.

Saying “I’m here if you need me” instead of rushing in to fix.
Noticing when you call something painful instead of devastating.
Deciding by Friday instead of thinking indefinitely.

These aren’t dramatic, emotional moments. They don’t feel like breakthroughs. But they are.

Because every time you make a small shift in your design, you clear an obstacle and change the trajectory of what comes next.

Big, dramatic breakthroughs happen. They’re real, and they’re powerful. But they’re not the only way change happens.

Sometimes the real breakthroughs are so quiet you almost miss them.
Sometimes they’re the moment you stop yelling back.
Sometimes they’re a single word that lightens a burden you’ve carried for years.
Sometimes they’re simply the clearing away of something that once stood in your way—without emotion, without drama, without spectacle.

The obstacle is gone. You are walking forward.

That is the breakthrough.

“Breakthrough isn’t the explosion. It’s the quiet click that lets you move forward.”

Here’s a simple exercise you can try today:

1. Notice the story you’re telling yourself in a stressful moment.

2. Ask: “Is this the only way to see this?”

3. Reframe it by just 1%. Change one word. Adjust one assumption.

Then notice what happens. Notice how your body responds. Notice how your choices shift. Notice how your relationships feel different.

That’s what a small-shift breakthrough looks like.

Breakthroughs don’t need to take hours of journaling or years of therapy. Sometimes all it takes is ten minutes with the right insight at the right time.

That’s why I created Game Changer Monthly—a bite-sized subscription designed to help you think better, feel better, and handle life with less chaos and more confidence.

Each month, you’ll get four mini-publications that cover:

GRIT – mental strength and bounce-back power

Connect – communication and relationships

Handle It – practical tools for discipline and doing the thing

Fuel – growth strategies that don’t lead to burnout

All delivered in under 30 minutes, straight to your inbox.

Because the right small shift can be the breakthrough you’ve been waiting for.​