Last week, while on vacation in Florida, my husband and I had an unexpected visitor in the apartment where we were staying.

One night, while we were watching TV in the living room, my husband suddenly called out, “There’s a lizard!” He said he’d seen it scurry behind one of the pictures on the wall. We hit pause on the show we were watching (C.B. Strike—an excellent British private-detective drama, if that’s what you’re into) and waited for the speedy reptile to make another appearance. Sure enough, within two minutes or so, it emerged and planted itself in full view.

I quickly snapped a picture and sent it in the family text thread we have with our two sons, both in their 20s.

“Lizard on the wall here in Florida! What do you think we should do?”

Without hesitation, one son responded, “Let it be. It got in, it’ll get out.”

Right on the heels of that advice, our other son implored, “Gotta act. Try to grab it with a towel and throw the towel outside for the night if you get it.”

(If you know my two sons, you can probably guess whose advice was whose.)

After reading their diametrically opposed texts, all I could think was: there’s definitely a blog post here.

What struck me in that moment wasn’t just that they had different opinions. It was how instantly and naturally each of them responded from his own wiring. One saw the situation and thought, Don’t overreact. Trust the process. Stay calm. The other saw the exact same situation and thought, something needs to be done. Solve the problem. Take action now.

Same lizard. Same wall. Same family. Completely different instincts.

And honestly, that’s how so many of us move through work and leadership every single day.

We walk into the same meeting, the same conflict, the same change, the same awkward conversation, and each of us has a different first impulse. One person wants to talk it out right away. Another needs time to think. One wants more data. Another is ready to trust a gut feeling. One scans for risks. Another sees possibilities. One leads with logic. Another naturally tracks the impact on people.

None of this is random. And none of it is wrong. It says something about how we’re wired.

I’ve spent enough years coaching professionals, especially introverted ones, to know that so much of the struggle people feel at work comes from misreading their wiring as weakness. They ask themselves, why am I not more outspoken in meetings? Why do I need time to process before I know what I think? Why does all this constant interaction drain me so much when others seem energized by it?

I’ve asked versions of those questions myself.

For years, I thought effective leadership required me to override my natural instincts. I thought I needed to be quicker, louder, more visibly assertive, more “on.” I believed that my thoughtful, measured, internally processed way of showing up was something to work around rather than something to work with.

That mindset is exhausting. It’s also unnecessary.

Because when you understand how you’re wired, you can stop fighting yourself and start being purposeful in how you show up. That doesn’t mean you never stretch. Of course you do. Leadership asks all of us to grow. But stretching is very different from pretending, and growth is very different from trying to take on someone else’s personality.

When you know how you’re wired, you begin to understand what gives you energy, what drains it, how you make decisions, how you communicate most effectively, and what strengths you bring almost without trying. From there, you can be much more intentional.

If you process internally, maybe being purposeful means asking for a meeting agenda in advance so you can gather your thoughts ahead of time. If you tend to move quickly into action, maybe it means slowing down long enough to ask one more question before charging ahead. If you naturally focus on harmony, maybe it means saying the hard thing that needs to be said. If you lead with logic and efficiency, maybe it means pausing to consider the emotional impact your message could have on the people in the room.

This is what I wish more professionals understood, and especially more introverts: your wiring is not the problem. It’s information. When you know your strengths, you can stop spending so much time trying to be less of who you are and start becoming more effective as who you are.

That shift changes everything.

You stop asking, how do I act more like that other leader over there? And you start asking, given how I’m wired, how do I lead well? That is a much more useful question. It leads to more self-awareness, more confidence, and a lot less exhaustion.

Back to the lizard.

By default, we let it be. (We couldn’t have caught it if we tried.) Did it get out? I honestly don’t know. But I do know that the whole episode gave me a fresh reminder that in uncertain moments, we all reveal something about how we’re built. Some of us move toward action. Some of us move toward patience. Some of us try to control the situation. Some of us trust what will unfold.

The goal isn’t to judge those instincts. It’s to understand them.

Because when you understand your wiring, you gain choice. You can show up at work and as a leader with more self-awareness, more confidence, and more intention.

And that, in my book, is the real opportunity.