Soft Leadership: Grieving, Guiding, and Still Showing Up

There’s a kind of leadership that doesn’t always look like strength from the outside. It’s soft, present, and rooted in truth.

It doesn’t push through pain—it walks with it.

This piece is for the ones who show up for others while holding their own grief. The ones who lead from presence, not perfection. The ones who feel deeply, guide gently, and keep showing up.

Keep reading—this one’s for the part of you that leads through it all ↓

Leadership isn’t always loud. Sometimes, it’s simply holding on and showing up with love.

There’s a quiet kind of leadership that doesn’t stand at the front of the room.

It doesn’t come with a loud voice or a polished plan.

It doesn’t pretend to have it all together.

This kind of leadership leads while grieving.

It holds space while healing.

It shows up, not in spite of the pain—but with it.

And lately, that’s the kind of leadership I’ve been living.

I’ve been holding space for my clients, my family, my friends, my circles, and myself.

Grief has been moving through many of us—personal grief, collective grief, and quiet losses that don’t always have a name.

And still, I show up.

Not because I’m bypassing my pain.

Not because I’m suppressing what I feel.

But because I’m with it.

I’m learning that leadership doesn’t mean you’ve transcended your human experience.

It means you’ve learned how to walk alongside it with integrity.

To be soft and grounded.

To be present and in process.

To hold space for others without abandoning your own.

That’s the edge. And it’s sacred.

There are days I feel tender. Raw. Quiet.

Days when the act of showing up is a full-body effort.

But I show up anyway—not because I’m pretending to be strong, but because I’m honoring what strength really is:

Making space for the full spectrum of what it means to be human.

If you’ve been moving through something while still being the one others look to—I see you.

If you’ve cried between sessions, or after phone calls, or in the car before going home—I feel you.

If you’ve felt the ache of being the strong one, the soft one, the wise one—all at once—I’m with you.

Soft leadership is not weakness. It’s a deep commitment to presence.

To honesty.

To honoring your limits while still holding your values.

It’s showing up with your heart intact—even when it hurts.

It’s being okay with not always having the words.

It’s leading from the truth, not the performance.

This is the kind of leadership I’m most interested in.

The kind that makes room for grief.

The kind that doesn’t rush healing.

The kind that lets you be in process, without apology.

The kind that lets you breathe.

You don’t have to be unshaken to be a leader.

You just have to be real.

And if you’re grieving, guiding, and still showing up— You already are.