Leading with compassion, even on the hard days
Volume 1, Edition 38
Somewhere along the way, a lot of leaders learned to hide their humanity. We learned to smile when we were exhausted. To be “professional” when we were unraveling inside. To keep our emotions tucked away because we were afraid they would make us look weak, or too soft, or too complicated. We learned how to show up while quietly falling apart, because the world rewards the leader who keeps moving. But what the world rarely recognizes is the cost of that kind of performance. It can turn leadership into something lonely. It can turn responsibility into a weight you carry in silence. And it can convince you that you are only valuable when you are productive, composed, and easy to rely on.
But leadership was never meant to strip us of our personhood. It was never meant to turn us into machines with calendars and credentials. Leadership is still a human experience. And the best leaders, the ones people remember, are not the ones who never struggled. They’re the ones who learned how to stay grounded, even when life wasn’t gentle. They’re the ones who found a way to lead with both wisdom and warmth. They’re the ones who were strong without becoming hard. They’re the ones who carried their responsibility with integrity, and still made room for compassion, including compassion for themselves.
The human side of leadership looks like caring deeply, even when it would be easier to detach. It looks like being the calm voice in the room while your own mind is racing. It looks like staying thoughtful when you’re overwhelmed. It looks like showing up for your team, your patients, your coworkers, your clients, your family, your community, while also trying to hold yourself together. And sometimes it looks like taking a deep breath in the hallway before you walk back into the room and become the version of yourself everyone expects.
There are seasons where leadership feels energizing. You’re motivated. You’re confident. You’re inspired. You’re building something that matters. But there are also seasons where leadership feels tender. Not because you’re incapable, but because you’re human. Because grief exists. Because life happens. Because stress doesn’t pause just because you have a title. Because there are invisible burdens you carry that don’t show up on your job description. And in those seasons, leadership requires something deeper than performance. It requires emotional honesty. It requires self-awareness. It requires boundaries. It requires the kind of strength that doesn’t come from pushing harder, but from becoming more rooted.
The truth is, some of the hardest parts of leadership have nothing to do with strategy. They have to do with the emotional load. It’s the weight of being the one people look to when things go wrong. It’s the pressure of being the decision-maker when there isn’t a perfect answer. It’s the exhaustion of being pulled in ten directions, while also trying to be fair, thoughtful, consistent, and kind. It’s the quiet fatigue of absorbing other people’s stress, confusion, frustration, and fear, and still being expected to respond calmly. And then you go home, and you’re still a spouse, a parent, a student, a caregiver, a community member, a person with your own thoughts and needs, and you wonder where you fit into your own life.
I think one of the most underrated leadership skills is learning how to lead while feeling. Not leading from emotion, but leading with emotional honesty. Knowing what you’re carrying. Naming it. Respecting it. Making room for it, instead of pretending it isn’t there. Because when leaders ignore their own humanity, they don’t become stronger. They become numb. They become disconnected. They become short-tempered. They become exhausted. They become brittle. And eventually, that affects everything, their decision-making, their relationships, their patience, their health, their ability to show up with the steadiness they are trying so hard to maintain.
The human side of leadership also shows up in the way we treat the people around us. It shows up in small moments. It’s the way you speak to someone who is struggling. It’s the way you respond when someone makes a mistake. It’s the way you notice the quiet employee who never asks for help but is clearly overloaded. It’s the way you make room for someone to be a person, not just a worker. It’s the way you create safety, not just standards. It’s the way you correct with dignity. The way you hold expectations without humiliation. The way you lead with accountability, but never forget that behind every role is a human being doing the best they can with what they have.
And the truth is, most people are not leaving jobs because they don’t want to work. They’re leaving because they’re tired of being treated like they don’t matter. They’re leaving because they’re burned out, unseen, unheard, and stretched too thin for too long. They’re leaving because they feel like a number. They’re leaving because they are being managed, but not cared for. That’s why the human side of leadership matters more than ever. Because it reminds people that they are not disposable. That their presence matters. That their effort counts. That they are more than a task list.
But here’s the piece I want to say gently and clearly. Being a human leader does not mean over-sharing. It doesn’t mean carrying everyone’s emotional weight. It doesn’t mean you have to be endlessly available. It doesn’t mean you have to be the emotional sponge for every crisis. The human side of leadership is not about becoming everyone’s therapist. It’s about becoming a leader who understands that people have lives, stress, and stories. It’s about leading with empathy without losing yourself. It’s about being real without being undone. It’s about staying grounded, even when you’re stretched.
Sometimes the most human thing you can do as a leader is admit you need a pause. Sometimes it’s saying, “I’m going to take a moment and circle back.” Sometimes it’s choosing not to react quickly. Sometimes it’s drinking your water, eating lunch, closing your office door for ten minutes, and letting your nervous system catch up with your responsibilities. Sometimes it’s realizing that your ability to lead well is directly tied to whether you are caring for yourself, not in big dramatic ways, but in small steady ways that keep you from running on empty.
This week, I want you to consider this question. What part of yourself have you been leaving out of your leadership? What have you been forcing yourself to ignore because it felt inconvenient or uncomfortable? Maybe it’s your grief. Maybe it’s your exhaustion. Maybe it’s your need for rest. Maybe it’s your own emotional limits. Maybe it’s the fact that you’ve been strong for too long without being supported in return. The human side of leadership begins when you stop abandoning yourself just to be seen as capable.
You can be a leader and still be tired. You can be a leader and still be tender. You can be a leader and still be healing. You can be a leader and still have days when you don’t have it all together. None of that disqualifies you. It makes you real. It makes you relatable. It makes you trustworthy. It makes you the kind of leader people can actually follow, because you aren’t pretending to be above the human experience. You’re walking through it with courage.
So if this week has asked a lot of you, I hope you will offer yourself the same grace you give everyone else. I hope you will remember that leadership is not only what you produce. It’s what you carry. It’s how you show up. It’s how you treat people. It’s how you stay rooted in your values, even when life feels messy. And I hope you will remember that being human is not a liability. It is the very thing that makes your leadership meaningful.
Until next time, may you lead with steady hands, a soft heart, and the quiet confidence of someone who doesn’t have to prove anything to be powerful.
© 2026 Kimberly Weisner, All Rights Reserved
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