On large projects, it’s not the wind that throws you off course. It’s the lack of an anchor.
I joined a complex engagement already in motion. The pace was fast. The roles were fluid. Architecture discussions were happening before alignment had fully formed. I wasn’t leading the project, and that was the right call. But I had a stream of work to own, and in hindsight, I didn’t drop anchor in it.
I floated. I reacted. I drifted too close to decisions I wasn’t supposed to own, and pulled back too far from ones I should have claimed. Without firm grounding, I tried to steady myself by defending ideas and asserting clarity. The intent was to help. The impact was friction.
I used to think structure had to come from someone else. A stronger lead, a better kickoff, clearer assignments. But when you’re in the middle of the current, you can’t wait for calm water. You need to anchor yourself.
On later projects, I did exactly that. I claimed responsibility early. I clarified what outcomes were mine. I asked where I had decision-making authority and what boundaries already existed. I stopped waiting for a lane to be handed to me and started defining it myself.
This is what anchoring looks like: ask what success means for your role. Confirm what you’re free to decide and where alignment is required. Surface constraints instead of assuming them. Don’t wait for stability—create it. Quietly, early, and with intention.
Technical skills matter, but they don’t hold you in place when the project starts to rock. Ownership does. Anchoring is how you stay focused, useful, and trusted when everything around you is shifting.
The storm may not be yours to control. But the anchor is.
