Leadership Shouldn’t Require Losing Yourself

May 20

The first time I truly burned out, I had recently won an award for service to the university.

From the outside, I looked like I was thriving. I was being recognized for my leadership. Praised for my work. Trusted with more responsibility.

And at the same time, I had just come out of a psychiatric ward after a forced admittance.

Those two things existed together.

And I think about that version of me often.

Because what I’ve come to realize is this:

Throughout much of my career, the moments where I appeared the most successful were often the same moments where I was taking care of myself the least.

I was high-performing, reliable, and capable.

And quietly abandoning myself in the process.

At the time, I thought I was taking care of myself. I tried the self-care rituals we’re taught to reach for: bubble baths, spa days, small moments of escape. But I wasn’t practicing the kind of care that actually honored me.

The kind that values:

your time
your voice
your needs
your boundaries

And honestly, for many of those years, I’m not sure I even knew what those were.

Because somewhere along the way, I had learned that my role was to smile. To be pleasant. To be helpful. To make things easier for everyone else.

Never to figure out what I needed. To figure out what I wanted. To ask whether I was okay.

So I became an adult who could expertly care for everyone around her while struggling to care for herself.

It’s easier for me to remember to book my children’s dentist appointments every six months than it is to consistently schedule my own cleanings.

And I know I’m not alone in that.

The Things We Learn to Carry

I believe many women have been conditioned to become experts at caring for everyone except themselves.

We become highly attuned to the needs, emotions, and expectations of the people around us. We anticipate. We manage. We support. We smooth things over.

And because we’re capable of carrying a lot, people often give us more to carry.

The dangerous part is that this behavior gets rewarded.

We get praised for being dependable, always showing up, pushing through, staying positive, handling everything.

From the outside, it looks like leadership. But internally, it can slowly become self-abandonment.

Because somewhere along the way, many of us learned that being needed was safer than having needs.

So we keep functioning. Even while exhausted. Even while disconnected from ourselves. Even while our bodies are asking us to slow down.

And eventually, functioning at this capacity starts to feel normal. We call it, “just being busy” or “a stressful season,” or even “something I’ll deal with later.”

But later keeps moving. And often, the things we postpone are the very things that matter most.

Our health. Our rest. Our joy. Our boundaries. Ourselves.

For a long time, I thought leadership meant continuing to show up no matter what it cost me.

I thought resilience meant pushing through.

I thought strength meant being the person who could handle everything.

But I don’t believe that anymore.

Because leadership that requires you to disappear from yourself isn’t sustainable leadership.

And leadership shouldn’t require self-abandonment.

Not in our organizations. Not in our homes. Not in ourselves.

Real leadership has to leave room for humanity. For care that goes deeper than temporary relief.

Not just bubble baths and spa days, but the kind of care that says: My needs matter too. My health matters too. I deserve support too.

What I’m learning about sustainable leadership

I don’t think sustainable leadership happens automatically. For many of us, especially women who have spent years over-functioning, it requires learning entirely new ways of relating to ourselves.

These are a few things I’m actively practicing right now, and conversations we’re also having inside RISE:

1. Treating my needs like they matter before I hit a breaking point

I am not waiting until burnout happens to treat my needs like they matter. I am not waiting for the crisis. I am not waiting for when everyone else is okay.

Before.

I’m learning that preventative care, rest, support, and boundaries are not rewards I earn after exhaustion.

They are part of sustainable leadership.

2. Paying attention to what I keep postponing

The things we consistently push to the bottom of the list often tell us something important.

The doctor’s appointment. The difficult conversation. The rest we keep delaying. The support we know we need.

Avoidance is often information. And I’m trying to get more curious about what mine is trying to tell me.

3. Letting “good enough” be enough sometimes

There are seasons where excellence has to look different.

I can deeply care about my work, my family, and my leadership without doing every single thing perfectly.

That’s hard for me. But I’m learning that sustainability matters more than constant optimization.

4. Asking myself what I actually need, not just what everyone else needs from me

This sounds simple, but for many women it’s surprisingly unfamiliar.

I spent years being deeply attuned to everyone around me while feeling disconnected from myself. Now, I’m trying to pause long enough to ask: What do I need right now?

Not performatively. Honestly.