Grieving While Leading Part Two: Adjusting to the New Abnormal

What happens when your world shifts, but you're still expected to lead? That question became all too real for me after losing my Mom earlier this year. In my last issue , I shared some initial thoughts on grieving while leading as I returned to work, and the overwhelming response showed me just how many of you have been there—or are still navigating that journey.

As I pass the six-month mark, I feel it’s important to share more of what I’ve learned. While this newsletter won’t always focus on grief, today I want to offer a “Part Two” in this ongoing conversation—adjusting to the new abnormal.

What is the "New Abnormal"?

A book I recently read discussed adjusting to a “new abnormal” from a workplace and leadership perspective. The concept resonated deeply with me. In the context of losing my Mom, it’s not about finding a "new normal." It’s a new abnormal—an ongoing adjustment to a world that will never feel the same.

Here’s what I’ve learned this summer as I continue to grieve and lead:

1. Happy Sorrows: Embracing the Duality

This summer brought several personal and professional milestones I would have loved to share with my Mom. I was named one of the Most Admired CEOs of 2024 by the?Charlotte Business Journal, joined my first company board, and attended a remarkable executive education program at the Harvard Kennedy School—all within 1-3 months of her passing. People often say you’ll think of your loved ones during these moments, and they’re right. A 2023 Harvard study found that 85% of people think of their deceased loved ones during significant life events.

At first, I wasn’t as excited about some of the milestones or wins as I expected to be—something that surprised those close to me. But after reflecting in a counseling session, I realized why: It’s not always the big milestones or holidays that bring the most grief. Sometimes, it’s the smaller, everyday moments that carry the deepest emotional weight.

This experience reminded me that joy and sorrow can coexist. My Mom is a big reason for my success, and I know she’d be beaming with pride. As her only child, I carry her legacy by continuing to live my dreams, built on the foundation of her living hers.

It’s not easy, but I’m learning to savor moments of joy while also carrying the sting of loss. Moving forward, I accept that happiness will always be intertwined with the ache of missing her—and that’s okay.

2. It’s Okay to Not Be Okay (And Say It), Then Move On

I’ve embraced honesty about how I’m feeling. A study in the?Journal of Occupational Health Psychology?shows that while 77% of grieving employees want to share their feelings at work, only 40% feel comfortable doing so. It’s okay to admit that you're struggling.

When someone asks how I’m doing, I’m candid. If I’m having a tough day, I’ll say something like, “It’s been hard, but today feels like a fresh start.” It doesn’t invite a deep conversation, but it allows for authenticity. With close friends, I might go deeper.

This practice normalizes the journey without forcing myself to say “I’m fine” when I’m not. It also helps people understand that grief isn’t something to be "fixed." Grief has to be carried, and through support, space, and healing, we can make that journey lighter for those we care about.

3. Solitude Doesn’t Mean Isolation

Grief requires more solitude, and I’ve learned to intentionally reserve time for it. My energy ebbs and flows like the waves of grief, in ways I’ve never experienced before. My grief counselor describes processing grief at times as "dormant stress"—where your energy fluctuates even when there’s no outward emotion.

Work brings me purpose, but large social gatherings can feel draining. I attended a long-planned wedding this summer, which felt like a mix of celebration, healing, and vacation – just what I needed. However, I’m more selective about social events these days, and I’m okay with that. I tell my friends, “Please invite me, but don’t take offense if I decline—I’ll say yes when I’m ready.”

Solitude helps me recharge, not isolate. I still enjoy 1:1 or small group connections when my energy allows, and those moments are incredibly meaningful. They actually give me energy! I’m also focused on supporting my Dad, my son, and managing family matters related to my Mom’s passing, which requires a lot of emotional bandwidth. (Side note: I’m thankful my parents had their affairs in order and communicated them to me, especially as an only child. This has nothing to do with how much one has but provides clarity and peace during a time when thinking clearly is hard. It also puts less on the “to-do” and “to-decide” lists, which is so helpful.)

This season, I’m learning when to protect my energy and when to stretch it. I’m giving myself the grace to say “no” more often, knowing that sometimes, it will still be a “yes.”

4. Helping Contributes to Healing

Since my Mom’s passing, several friends and colleagues have also lost their parents. Grief creates a unique bond—one we all hope to avoid, but will eventually face. Sharing my experiences, offering resources, and simply listening to others has unexpectedly become part of my own healing journey.

According to a 2022 survey by the National Alliance for Grieving Children, 68% of people who support others through grief find it therapeutic. While I’m far from an expert, being part of this "club" has made me realize how varied the support people need can be. Sometimes, it’s a simple text or call with no expectation of a reply—it’s just knowing the message was received. Other times, it’s about having a conversation that may or may not touch on the loss. It could be as small as sending a card, a thoughtful delivery, or even a funny meme to say, “I’m thinking of you.”

The bookworm in me has turned to reading as part of my healing process. Since my Mom passed in February, I’ve immersed myself in 15+ books on grief, countless hours of therapy, and recently started grief classes, with more still to explore. Given the deep bond my mother and I shared—even beyond her passing—I know I need all of it.

Each experience offers something unique: some were invaluable immediately after her passing, while others became more meaningful as time progressed. I often share these resources with others who are grieving, hoping they might find the same comfort and insight.

There’s a saying that "the real funeral begins after the funeral," and I’ve found that to be profoundly true. Offering support to others has been a blessing. I’m also considering creating a platform for deeper, ongoing reflections on grief and how my perspective might help others navigate their own journeys.

Looking Ahead

As fall approaches, this journey continues. While future issues of this newsletter will touch on other leadership topics, I felt it was important to share these reflections as I adjust to my new abnormal.

I’d love to hear your thoughts—how have you managed grief while leading? Please feel free to share your story in the comments or through direct messages. We’re all in this together, and it’s a conversation worth continuing.

I’ll be returning to our regular cadence of leadership insights and perspectives soon, so stay tuned.