The Emotional Intelligence Skill That Actually Brings Healing
Why high-capacity leaders must learn to grieve — and why avoiding it quietly erodes resilience
After Christmas, I felt… off.
Not dramatically sad.
Not clinically depressed.
Just vaguely down. Listless. Unmotivated.
Have you ever asked yourself, “Am I depressed… or just tired… or just human?”
The house was suddenly quiet after a wonderful holiday. The sky was gray. It was too cold to walk the beach. I’m aging — which, let’s be honest, is its own ongoing negotiation with reality.
Then another thought surfaced: I had fewer coaching clients starting the year than in previous seasons.
Cue the executive brain:
Is my career winding down? Is this decline? Is this relevance fading?
Now, for context — I’ve intentionally reduced my workload since moving to the beach. That part was strategic. But this felt different.
After some honest reflection, I realized what was happening:
I was experiencing a loss.
And until I named it, it owned me.
The Losses We Don’t Call “Loss”
When we think of grief, we think of death, divorce, tragedy.
But leaders experience micro-losses constantly:
You’re passed over for a promotion
A prospective client you expected to close ghosts you
A health diagnosis forces new limitations
A milestone birthday shifts your identity
A conflict at work remains unresolved
A performance review stings
A goal fails
A speech flops
A habit still has more power over you than you’d like
None of these show up in obituaries.
But they register in your nervous system.
And if you don’t metabolize them, they linger.
What Many of Us Were Taught
Consider how your family handled loss. Chances are you were subtly trained to:
Don’t dwell.
Be strong.
Think positive.
Others have it worse.
Crying is for sissies.
Quit feeling sorry for yourself.
Shake it off.
Faith was sometimes interpreted as emotional suppression.
Strength was often confused with stoicism.
But avoidance isn’t resilience.
It’s delayed processing.
What Grief Actually Is
Grief is the emotional, psychological, and even neurological response to loss.
In the Townsend Institute’s Organizational Leadership Program, Dr. John Townsend often says:
“Grief is God’s way of helping you metabolize what you can no longer hold on to.”
Metabolize.
Like digestion.
If you don’t process it, it doesn’t disappear — it sits undigested.
Research following families who lost loved ones in 9/11 found something striking:
Those who actively processed their grief — individually and in groups — showed brain changes over time. Their loss moved from the “present distress” centers of the brain into memory centers.
They didn’t forget.
But they were no longer living inside the pain.
Those who avoided grief? The distress stayed neurologically present.
For leaders, that matters.
Unprocessed loss leaks into:
Irritability
Emotional reactivity
Cynicism
Low energy
Quiet discouragement
Self-condemnation
It can even fuel numbing behaviors — overworking, overdrinking, overeating, scrolling.
High performers are particularly skilled at bypassing grief.
But resilience requires going through it.
What I Did Instead of “Powering Through”
Before assuming I needed medication or a light therapy lamp (both legitimate tools when appropriate), I tried something simpler:
I wrote.
What exactly am I grieving?
What does this change mean about my identity?
What am I afraid it says about my value?
Then I shared it with Rod. He listened with empathy — not fixing, not minimizing.
Then I shared it with trusted friends and my small group.
Within weeks, something shifted.
I began to see the freedom in a lighter workload.
The joy in painting classes.
The space for new ministry roles and volunteer work.
Ironically, new clients came along — but they no longer carried existential weight.
My value was no longer tied to my calendar.
That’s what grieving did.
It built resilience.
Grief Is a Precursor to Resilience
Resilience is not “getting over it.”
It’s adapting without hardening.
It’s feeling fully and choosing wisely.
You cannot simply will yourself past a loss.
Your brain requires processing.
Your nervous system requires connection.
As Michelle Obama said:
“Grief and resilience live together.”
For leaders, this is emotional intelligence at its finest:
The ability to recognize, name, and process your own internal experience so it doesn’t unconsciously drive your behavior.
Even Jesus Grieved
Scripture never equates maturity with emotional suppression.
“A time to weep and a time to laugh.” — Ecclesiastes 3:4
“The Lord is close to the brokenhearted.” — Psalm 34:18
“Blessed are those who mourn…” — Matthew 5:4
Jesus wept.
He didn’t bypass sorrow.
He entered it.
Grieving with hope is not weakness.
It is spiritual and emotional maturity.
A Lenten Leadership Exercise
As we move through Lent — a season designed for reflection — consider this:
1. What losses have you experienced in the past year?
Not just dramatic ones. Subtle ones too.
2. For each loss, write:
What happened?
What was the impact?
How did I deal with it (or avoid it)?
What emotions surface now?
Who is a safe person I can share this with?
Don’t rush this.
Emotional self-awareness is not indulgent.
It is strategic.
Your Call to Action
If you want to lead well — in your company, your family, your ministry — you must increase your capacity to feel without being ruled by your feelings.
That requires:
Naming losses.
Allowing grief.
Sharing vulnerably with safe people.
Refusing to equate productivity with worth.
Here is the uncomfortable truth:
What you refuse to grieve will quietly govern you.
But what you grieve well will strengthen you.
This week, instead of powering through, pause.
Ask yourself:
What am I carrying that I have not acknowledged?
Then begin the work of metabolizing it.
Your leadership — and your joy — depend on it.