What Collaboration Means to Me - And Why We Misunderstand It
What Collaboration Means to Me - And Why We Misunderstand It
Imagine someone approaches you and says: “Let’s collaborate.”
What is the first thought that comes to your mind?
Do you feel curiosity? Reluctance? Skepticism? Or maybe an inner question: “What do you want from me?”
For many professionals - especially practitioners, therapists, and healers - the word collaboration can trigger a subtle resistance. Why is that? Not because the idea of working together is inherently bad - but because in too many experiences, collaboration implied extra burden, hidden obligations, or unclear expectations.
If you’ve ever felt this way, you are not alone. Terms like collaboration, cooperation, or in German, Zusammenarbeit carry different meanings depending on context, roles, and expectations.
Let’s pause for a moment and consider what researchers and organizational thinkers actually mean by these words - and why the experience of them can feel so different in practice.
The Concept of Collaboration
In academic terms, collaboration is described as the process by which two or more parties work together toward a shared goal or vision. It is mutual engagement, interdependence, and often involves negotiation and shared decision-making.
By contrast, cooperation tends to describe people working alongside each other toward a larger goal, while still performing defined parts of a task. Cooperation doesn’t necessarily imply the same level of co-creation as collaboration.
These distinctions may seem subtle on paper, but they matter a lot in practice.
So Why Do We Feel Tension?
Some reasons we may hesitate when we hear “collaboration” include:
unclear goals or expectations, leading to confusion about responsibilities
unspoken obligations, where only one side ends up carrying the extra work
power or ownership mismatch, where shared vision feels like shared burden
past experiences of being approached primarily for sales or tasks.
Many organizational thinkers have noted that without clear mutual understanding and structure, collaborative efforts can become heavy or ineffective.
In fact, one area of research suggests that too much collaboration without clear boundaries can even overload key contributors, because collaborative communication demands time, energy, and coordination beyond what individuals originally signed up for.
None of this means that collaboration is bad. It means that many people have learned to associate it with unclear realities, not clear shared purpose. And this is conditioning our reactions.
Collaboration as I Experience It
I never thought a lot about the definition of collaboration.
I only knew how it felt when it worked - and how heavy it felt when it didn’t.
Some forms of working together left me energized. Others left me strangely tired, even when the people involved were kind, competent, and well-intentioned.
What made the difference wasn’t effort. And it wasn’t alignment of values alone. It was something more subtle. The collaborations that worked shared one quiet quality: everyone stayed close to what they were naturally good at.
No one was stretching themselves into roles that didn’t fit. No one was compensating for gaps that weren’t theirs to fill. No one was trying to “be helpful” by taking on work that didn’t belong to them.
It didn’t feel like coordination. It didn’t feel like negotiation. It didn’t feel like compromise. It felt like flow - not the exciting kind, but the steady one. The kind where work has rhythm instead of friction.
Over time, I realized that for me, collaboration is not about doing something together. It’s about standing next to each other in our respective strengths. I don’t experience good collaboration as merging roles or blending responsibilities. I experience it as clarity. I do what I do best. You do what you do best. And instead of overlapping, we support the same outcome from different angles.
There is relief in that kind of cooperation. Relief from explaining yourself too much. Relief from managing expectations. Relief from constantly checking whether you are overstepping or under-delivering.
In those moments, collaboration doesn’t feel like an extra layer added on top of work. It feels like something unnecessary has been removed. And that is the version of collaboration I trust.
Strength-Based Work: Being of Service Without Taking Over
At some point, I noticed a pattern.
The collaborations that worked best - the ones that felt clean, calm, and meaningful - all shared a similar dynamic. They weren’t driven by ambition or efficiency. They weren’t even driven by agreement. They were driven by respect for strengths.
Let me explain what I mean.
Imagine a situation where several people care deeply about the same outcome. Everyone is capable. Everyone is committed. And yet, the work feels heavy. Not because it’s difficult - but because people keep stepping slightly outside of what they are naturally good at. Someone explains things they don’t need to explain. Someone organizes what doesn’t need organizing. Someone takes responsibility “just to help,” even though it’s not their role. Nothing is wrong. But something is off.
I’ve seen the opposite too. The same number of people. The same level of care. But each person stays firmly inside their own strength. No one fills gaps that aren’t theirs. No one compensates for roles that don’t belong to them. No one tries to be indispensable. And suddenly, the work feels lighter - not because there is less of it, but because it flows through the right channels.
This is where my principle comes from: Real cooperation is not about doing more together. It’s about allowing everyone to do what they do best - fully.
For me, this is inseparable from the idea of service. Being of service does not mean inserting yourself everywhere. It does not mean being needed for every decision. And it certainly does not mean making yourself central. Being of service, as I understand it, means carrying what belongs to me so others don’t have to.
It means:
taking responsibility for my part completely
not leaking tasks, questions, or uncertainty into someone else’s space
and trusting that others are equally capable in theirs.
There is a quiet discipline in this kind of work. You don’t measure success by visibility. You measure it by absence - by what no longer weighs on others.
The reward, in this way of working, is not recognition. It’s outcome.
Seeing others stay focused. Seeing work deepen instead of expand. Seeing results emerge without friction. That’s enough. This principle has shaped how I choose my work, my collaborations, and my commitments.
Not everything that could be done together should be. Not every shared interest requires shared execution. But when strengths are respected and when responsibility is carried, not spread - something happens: The system works. And the people within it stay well.
A Small Example
I once watched a project unfold in two very different ways.
In the first version, everyone wanted to help. People stepped in wherever they could. Questions were answered quickly. Tasks were shared generously. And yet, the project slowed down. Energy dispersed. Responsibility became blurry.
In the second version, fewer things happened - but they happened in the right places. Each person carried one clearly defined part. No one jumped in “just in case.” Questions landed where they belonged. Progress wasn’t louder. It was steadier.
Nothing about the people changed. Only the way responsibility was held. That difference stayed with me.
Why I Choose to Work This Way
I’ve learned that how I work matters as much as what I do.
Over time, I became more deliberate - I wanted to stay honest about what actually works for me. I choose forms of cooperation where participation is voluntary, not persuasive. Where interest is mutual, not engineered. Where no one needs to be convinced.
I don’t believe good work starts with pressure. I believe it starts with recognition - the moment when two sides see that working together could make things simpler, clearer, or more effective.
That’s why I don’t try to fit myself into every situation. And I don’t try to make every situation fit me. If something requires constant explanation, follow-up, or justification, it’s usually a sign that the structure isn’t right. And if the structure isn’t right, no amount of goodwill can fix that. I also don’t see selectivity as exclusion. I see it as respect - for my own capacity and for the work of others.
Choosing how I work allows me to be fully present where I am involved. It allows me to carry responsibility without spreading it. And it allows others to stay focused on what they do best, without taking on anything extra.
This way of working is sustainable. It’s clean. And it leaves people with more energy, not less.
What Remains When Work Is Done Well
No noise. No urgency. No unfinished threads pulling at attention. What remains is subtle.
People feel clearer about their role. Energy is spent where it matters. Decisions don’t echo endlessly - they land. There is less explaining and less compensating. Less fixing what didn’t need to be broken. Less carrying of things that never truly belonged to anyone.
It creates space. Space to focus. Space to think. Space to do meaningful work without constant adjustment.
This is what I look for when I choose how to work. Not expansion, but coherence. Not visibility, but integrity. When cooperation is aligned, it doesn’t add weight. It removes friction.
And when that happens, the result isn’t just better outcomes - it’s people who can stay well while doing good work. That, to me, is enough.
Be well
Tina
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