Why is no one talking about leadership grief?

Why is no one talks about leadership grief (and what it really Is).

There is a side of leadership no one prepares you for. It does not appear in training manuals or board retreats. It rarely gets airtime on LinkedIn. It is quiet and uncomfortable and often mistaken for failure. I call it leadership grief.

Grief shows up every time you outgrow who you were. Every time a version of you ends so a new one can begin. It is the feeling that sits in your chest after a decision, a restructure, a change, or a realisation that you are not who you used to be. And because we do not talk about it, most leaders carry it alone.

What leadership grief really is

Grief is usually linked to loss, and that is exactly what happens in leadership. We lose identities, relationships, ways of working, and sometimes the illusions that once made us feel safe. We lose the comfort of being liked when we start making harder calls. We lose the habit of being the fixer when we learn to empower others. We lose the adrenaline that used to keep us going when we start choosing calm.

No one tells you that growth can feel like mourning. That confidence can come wrapped in sadness. That you can be proud of a decision and still feel its cost.

Leadership grief is not a sign of weakness. It is a sign that you are evolving. It is the emotional evidence that you are leaving behind a version of yourself that no longer fits.

How it started for me

My first experience of leadership grief came disguised as exhaustion. I thought I was simply tired. I was running projects, raising a family, doing the work, helping everyone else stay afloat. I kept saying yes. I kept pushing through. I kept leading.

And then I stopped recognising myself. I had outgrown my own story. I had built a version of Debbie who could handle everything, and she had done her job. She had survived the losses, the chaos, the rebuilding. She had helped me become a leader. Yet she could not take me any further.

Letting go of her felt like betrayal. She was strong. She kept me safe. She never gave up. Yet the cost of keeping her alive was burnout.

That is the first truth about leadership grief. You cannot move forward while holding on to the version of yourself built for survival.

Growth demands a new identity.

Why no one talks about it

Leaders are taught to project confidence. The image of control sells well. We are rewarded for certainty and punished for emotion. So we hide the grief that comes with change.

We tell ourselves that we are just adapting. We keep smiling through it. We write strategies, attend meetings, and stay busy enough to avoid the ache. And because everyone around us is doing the same, we assume we are fine.

The industry itself reinforces the silence. Leadership development is obsessed with performance. Coaching often focuses on mindset, not mourning. Organisations value speed and metrics, not the emotional maturity that comes with slowing down and processing endings.

Yet every transformation programme, every restructure, every change initiative has one missing piece , space for grief.

When you remove people’s certainty, change their identity, and expect instant performance, you are creating invisible grief. And when that grief goes unacknowledged, it turns into resistance, frustration, or burnout.

Leaders need to know how to lead themselves and others through loss, not just through growth.

The personal side

Grief appears in personal leadership when you start becoming more self-aware. It shows up in the quiet moments when you realise you cannot go back to who you were. It sits between recognition and acceptance.

For many leaders I coach, it starts with guilt. They feel guilty for outgrowing people, roles, or ways of working. They feel guilty for wanting something different. They confuse loyalty with limitation.

Grief asks you to face those feelings. It asks you to honour what served you and release what no longer does.

That release is emotional. You may cry. You may feel numb. You may swing between clarity and doubt. That is normal. It is your nervous system recalibrating.

The paradox is that this grief creates space for better leadership. Once you allow yourself to feel it, you stop reacting from fear. You become calmer, clearer, kinder. You start leading with intention instead of protection.

The organisational grief

Teams experience leadership grief too. Every time a leader leaves, a structure changes, or a culture shifts, people grieve. They grieve routines, predictability, and relationships. Even positive change brings loss.

Organisations rarely name it. They call it resistance to change. They treat it as a performance issue. They measure output instead of emotion.

Yet when you acknowledge grief openly, everything changes. Teams feel seen. Trust increases. Energy returns faster. People start engaging again.

I have worked with companies that tried to skip this stage, and every one of them paid for it later. Productivity dropped. Morale collapsed. Blame took over. The unspoken grief grew louder than any new strategy.

You cannot build resilience on top of denial. You have to go through it.

What grief teaches you

Grief is not something to fix. It is something to understand.

It teaches humility.

You realise that leadership is not about being invincible. It is about being human in a visible position.

It teaches patience.

You (un)learn that progress takes time and that letting go is not a single decision. It is a practice.

It teaches empathy.

Once you have sat with your own grief, you stop judging others for theirs. You stop rushing people to move on and start helping them move through.

It teaches presence.

Grief lives in the body. To process it, you have to slow down and listen. That same presence makes you a better leader. You start noticing tone, silence, and energy. You become responsive instead of reactive.

It teaches gratitude.

When you can say thank you to what is ending, you become ready for what is next.

The cost of avoiding it

When leaders ignore grief, it does not disappear. It mutates.

Avoided grief becomes irritation, micromanagement, or detachment. It becomes cynicism or perfectionism. It drives the behaviour we later call leadersh!t — the need for control, the lack of empathy, the addiction to performance.

I have coached leaders who were brilliant on paper and emotionally empty in reality. They had been through so many changes that they stopped feeling altogether. They called it resilience. It was suppression.

Avoided grief also shows up in organisations. It creates cultures where people stay busy to avoid feeling uncertain. It fuels constant reinvention with no reflection. It breeds leaders who chase new strategies instead of understanding old wounds.

The longer you avoid grief, the louder it gets. Eventually, it stops whispering and starts shouting through exhaustion, conflict, or collapse.

How to lead through it

Start by naming it. Use the word grief. It matters. When you name something, you take away its power to hide.

Then make space for reflection. That can be five minutes at the end of a meeting or a full session with your team. Ask what has ended, what has changed, and what feels uncertain. Do not rush to fix it. Just listen.

Create rituals of closure. Celebrate endings as much as beginnings. Mark transitions. Give people permission to feel.

As an individual, build personal practices that keep you connected to yourself. Journaling, walking, silence, breathwork — anything that slows you down enough to hear your own truth.

And remember, grief is not linear. Some days you will feel strong. Other days you will question everything. That is not regression. That is integration.

The link to awareness

Grief and awareness are twins. You cannot have one without the other. Awareness shows you what has changed. Grief helps you accept it.

When you develop awareness without allowing grief, you stay stuck in analysis. You understand everything and feel nothing. When you allow grief without awareness, you drown in emotion. You feel everything and understand nothing.

Leaders need both.

That is why at and. we coach presence and reflection together. Awareness opens the door. Grief walks you through it.

This is also why Leadership or Leadersh!t exists. It is not a book about theory. It is a mirror. It asks you to see where you are leading from fear, from loss, from habit, and where you can start leading from truth.

When you integrate grief, you stop repeating patterns. You start leading with clarity.

Real stories of leadership grief

I once coached a founder who had built a company from nothing. Ten years later, he was tired. He wanted to step back, yet he felt guilty. His identity was tied to being the one who always showed up. The moment he said out loud, “I think I’m done,” he cried. Not from weakness. From release. He had been holding on to a version of himself that no longer fit.

Another client, a senior leader, lost half her team during a restructure. She kept saying, “I should be grateful I still have my job.” She was trying to skip grief by covering it with gratitude. When we named it as loss, she exhaled. She stopped overworking. She started leading again.

Grief does not block leadership. Denial does.

The courage to stay with it

Leadership grief asks for courage, the courage to stay in the uncomfortable middle. The space between who you were and who you are becoming.

It asks you to hold paradoxes. To be both strong and soft. To be both certain and curious. To be both grieving and growing.

This space is where transformation happens. It is where old leadership patterns dissolve and new awareness takes root.

When you let yourself feel it, you model something powerful. You show your team that leadership is not about pretending. It is about presence. You teach them that it is safe to be human.

That changes everything.

What happens when we start talking about it

When leaders and organisations begin naming grief, the whole atmosphere shifts. Conversations become more honest. Strategies become more grounded. People start trusting each other again.

Leaders who acknowledge grief are less reactive. They make decisions from clarity, not emotion. They listen better. They stop trying to rescue everyone and start creating environments where people can stand on their own.

Teams that process grief move faster, not slower. They carry less emotional weight. They innovate more because they are not stuck in nostalgia.

Talking about grief does not make teams sad. It makes them real.

My final reflection

Leadership grief is not a problem to solve.

It is a truth to understand. Every leader will face it. Every organisation will feel it. The question is whether we have the courage to name it.

Grief means you cared. It means something mattered. It means you are awake to the cost of growth.

If you are feeling it now, it does not mean you are failing. It means you are human and aware.

And that awareness is where new leadership begins.

So take the pause. Honour what is ending. Let yourself breathe. You cannot lead a team through uncertainty if you have not learned to lead yourself through loss.

This is what Leadership 2.0 looks like. Conscious. Human. Present.

Not pretending. Not performing.

Just leading with awareness, empathy, and the courage to feel.

Be your and. Action. Now. Different.