I was just trying to survive the week. You know the kind.
Back-to-back meetings.
Slack messages piling up.
Deadlines looming like a storm you can't outrun.
I was juggling tensions, solving problems, pretending I was "fine".
Wearing the uniform of competence so tightly that it almost looked natural.
And then, out of nowhere... a stranger held the door for me and said:
"You look like you carry a lot.
I hope someone's carrying you too".
I froze.
Not because I didn't know how to respond, but because I suddenly didn't know how to pretend anymore.
The Mask We Wear And The Message We Need
There's a particular kind of fatigue that comes from being the person others rely on.
It's not the workload.
It's the aloneness.
The sense that, as a leader, you're supposed to be the anchor. The buffer. The one who absorbs pressure so others don't have to feel it.
But no one ever told us what to do when we start sinking.
That stranger's comment cracked something open in me, something I hadn't realised had gone numb.
I had been leading... but I wasn't being led.
I had been supporting everyone... but had no support of my own.
I was exhausted... and I thought that was normal.
The Lie Of Solo Strength
Somewhere along the way, many of us absorbed a lie:
That leadership means carrying the weight.
All of it.
Alone.
That competence means silence.
That presence means pressure.
That empathy is a one-way street.
But what if strength isn't silent endurance?
What if it's a shared experience?
What if being a leader doesn't mean carrying more, but it means learning how to carry together?
Leadership Isn't About Holding It All. It's About Being Held, Too.
In the days after that comment, I started paying attention.
To how often I deflected help.
To how rarely I admitted I was tired.
To how easily I equated self-sacrifice with impact.
And I realised: the kind of leader I admired most - the ones who felt expansive, grounded, trusted - didn't operate in isolation.
They had support.
They had space.
They had rhythms that included rest.
They weren't trying to prove they could carry it all.
They were focused on building a culture where no one had to.
If You're Always The One Holding Space, Who's Holding You?
This is a question we don't ask enough in leadership circles.
Especially for emerging leaders trying to prove they belong.
Trying to show they can "handle it".
Trying to earn trust by being endlessly available.
But here's the truth:
You can't pour from an empty cup.
You can't model psychological safety while ignoring your own internal signals.
You can't build trust if you don't feel safe yourself.
And you don't have to.
Leadership isn't a solo performance.
It's a system.
And every system needs support - including ourselves.
The Moment That Changed Me, And Might Change You
That stranger had no idea what they gave me.
A single comment.
A moment of humanity.
A reflection I didn't know I needed.
And it reshaped how I lead.
I stopped assuming I had to be strong alone.
I started investing in spaces where I could be real, not just reliable.
I built rhythms of reflection, connection, and yes, help.
And something softened.
Not in my impact, but in my grip.
My Quiet Invitation
So if you're reading this and you're the one who holds the room, holds the team, holds the line... consider this your door held open.
You don't have to carry it all.
You just have to recognise when it's time to be carried, too.
That's not weakness; that's wisdom.
And it might just be the moment that changes your leadership forever.
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