For over twenty years, my professional identity has been anchored in one truth: I am the one in the room who can manage crises and stay calm. As a Chief People Officer, I navigate the highest-stakes crises a corporation can face. My career is built on engineering strategic stability in the face of acquisitions, volatile leadership transitions, and defining cultural shifts.
But in 2024, my proven playbook failed.
I found myself navigating the professional vertigo of the arrival of a new CEO. My seat at the table was restarted with a person who had no past professional relationship with me. Additionally, we were hiring 75% of the rest of the C-suite. Just add water and you'll get a whole new team! And, in true Murphy's Law fashion, at that precise moment, a profound and disruptive crisis erupted within my immediate family. The consequences were, what I call, "unwindable”, a set of facts that could not be undone and would reshape the landscape of our lives.
The collision was catastrophic. My first instinct was my professional default, to fix it. I applied the full weight of my executive toolbelt to a private domestic crisis. I tried to command the outcome, set a timeline, and mandate immediate alignment. I wanted to "HR" my way back to stability.
But you cannot manage a human soul the way you manage a department.
The result was total emotional depletion. My fixer mentality at home was not only failing to resolve the long-term family crisis but was also creating a toxic, directive dynamic that was impacting my marriage. My professional reputation for composure was holding strong at the office (well, most of the time), but it was a brittle mask. I was surviving, not leading.
In the midst of this, I was given the gift of participating in an executive leadership program sponsored by one of our investors, complete with a coach, a 360-degree review, and an EQ (Emotional Intelligence) assessment. I’ve designed and led these programs for years. My initial reaction was a defensive, executive arrogance: "I design these; I won’t learn anything."
But that assessment was humbling. It revealed that my superpower, which is my ability to self-regulate, be a gap-filler and command a room, had become my liability. In my struggle to maintain control at work and home, I was no longer emotionally intelligent. I was emotionally exhausted.
The single hardest leadership decision I ever made was not a corporate restructuring; it was the decision to formally detach from a situation I could not control.
I realized that by trying to carry the burden of these unwindable consequences, I was not only preventing growth in others but was also compromising my own ability to function. I had to set boundaries that felt brutal. I had to let go of the need to manage the narrative and, instead, focus on my own stability.
This was a "three steps forward, two steps back" journey of grief. I had to mourn the perfect trajectory I had envisioned, both professionally and personally, to make room for the messy reality we were actually living. And it was messy.
Two Years Later: The Chief Cheerleader
Today, the dust has settled on both fronts. The transition at my company is complete, and my role as a strategic leader is secure. The unwindable consequences in my family remain a fact of life, but they are no longer a crisis.
In my leadership, I have released the crisis manager mentality that served me in my profession but eventually held me back from being a strategic people leader. I have learned that true leadership is often found in empowering others to own their journey, even when the road is hard. This is a lifelong practice for me; I backslide, then I recover. Over and over.
In my family, I have transitioned from the directive and demanding mother of children to the cheerleader and coach of young adults. I have traded the heavy armor of control for the enduring strength of connection. Again, this is a lifelong practice for me; I backslide, then I recover. Over and over.
My Lesson: We often believe that leadership means mitigating all risk and absorbing all pressure. But sometimes, the most strategic thing you can do and the highest-EQ move you can make is to let go.
If you are a leader currently holding a weight that is crushing you, ask yourself: Am I managing the drama, or am I leading the person? Sometimes, the unwindable consequences in our lives are exactly what wind us up into the leaders we were always meant to become.
#happyandhuman