When Leadership Hurts

When Leadership Hurts

Reflecting on this week’s parable, The Corner Office, I’m struck by how often we encounter leaders who lead not with vision, but with volume. The kind of leader who needs to be right, every time. Who shows up to every meeting with a metaphorical red pen — ready to correct, to criticize, and to command. Who leads with a ruler in hand, not to measure results, but to rap knuckles and remind others who's in charge.

These leaders operate from a place of authority and control. And while there are many styles of leadership — some inspiring, some compassionate, some tough but fair — this kind of fear-based, dominance-driven leadership leaves real damage in its wake.

I know this because I’ve lived it.

There was a time in my own career when I found myself working under a leader like this. I became physically unwell. I lost confidence. I stopped speaking up. It was no longer about growing — it was about surviving. I internalized every harsh comment. I tried harder to please. I gave more than I had — emotionally, mentally, spiritually — hoping for validation that never came.

And I know I’m not alone in this.
So many of us — especially those of us who care deeply about our work — are wired to seek approval, to do good, to be liked. We want to contribute. We want to belong. But in environments where leadership becomes punitive or performative, we slowly lose our voice. Our dignity. Our spark.

You might ask:

Why not just leave? Why not find another job and escape the toxicity?

It’s never that simple.

Maybe you love the work, or the mission, or the team. Maybe it’s just one person who makes it unbearable. And that’s what makes it so hard — because when a relationship is the problem, not the work itself, it requires a different kind of courage to navigate.

Here’s what I’ve learned:

• You must name what’s happening. Don’t gaslight yourself. If someone’s behavior is eroding your confidence or disrespecting your dignity, it’s real.

• You must set boundaries. This is hard — especially in hierarchical settings — but necessary. Silence doesn’t protect you; it only enables the behavior.

• You need allies. At work and at home. People who see you, affirm you, and help you remember who you are.

• You need other sources of feedback and confidence. One person’s opinion — no matter how powerful their title — should never become your truth. Seek out spaces where you are respected and valued.

• You must stay rooted. In your values. In your voice. In your self-worth.

Most importantly:
It’s not you.
Read that again — it’s not you.

Sometimes we forget that.
We think if we were better, faster, stronger, quieter, more polished — then maybe we’d earn their approval. But no amount of self-correction will ever satisfy someone who leads from insecurity or ego.

The goal is not to become hardened.
The goal is to become wise.

To protect your peace.
To trust your instincts.
To hold your center in places that try to throw you off balance.
And to know that quiet leadership — grounded, compassionate, purposeful — is not weak. It’s powerful in ways that loud leadership will never understand.

That is the work.
And that is the invitation of this week’s parable.