When my brother was diagnosed with brain cancer, I felt something in my body shift. A weight. A buzzing urgency. Without realizing it, I began scrambling: for answers, for clarity, for next steps. I mapped out medical appointments, researched procedures, made lists, sent emails, coordinated. I moved fast. I stayed busy.
It all looked like care. It looked like leadership. But underneath the productivity was something I wasn’t facing.
It took a conversation with my partner—a gestalt therapist—to help me see it. I wasn’t just helping. I was fixing. And I was fixing because I felt helpless. Sad. Afraid. Watching someone you love inch toward death is not something you can fix. But my nervous system didn’t know that. My old family wiring—my inner constellation—had me reaching for control the moment I felt pain.
When I softened into that truth, I could feel my body again. And in that softening, I found connection. I had a conversation with my brother—not about logistics or tasks—but about life. About us. It was vulnerable. Real. It didn’t solve anything. But I WAS no longer in the fix. I was in the feeling.
And as I look around at the world right now, I see how familiar this scramble to fix has become.
We are in a collective state of uncertainty. The political climate is charged and often divisive. Economic instability is shifting rapidly—tariffs, inflation, layoffs, and shifting global alliances ripple into our daily lives. AI is advancing faster than we can regulate it, creating fear and awe in equal measure. It feels like everything is changing, and no one really knows what comes next.
This isn’t about which party you vote for or where you fall on any given issue. It’s about what our nervous systems can hold. We are flooded with unknowns. And the instinct to fix, to reach for quick answers or assert control, is not just common—it’s human.
But the truth is, this moment—just like my moment with my brother—is not asking for fixing. It’s asking for feeling.
In my work with executives, I see this pattern all the time.
Leaders who leap into action not because it’s the right thing to do—but because stillness feels unbearable. Leaders who solve the surface issue while the real wound—fear, doubt, grief—goes untouched.
Fixing feels productive. Feeling can feel like weakness. But it’s not.
We don’t need more experts right now. We need more witnesses.
More people who can sit with discomfort. More people who can say, "I don’t know either, but I’m here." More leaders who can hold space for uncertainty without defaulting to solutions.
We need leadership that can recognize:
That feeling helpless doesn’t make us weak.
That sitting with grief doesn’t make us less effective.
That being human might be the most powerful leadership skill of all.
This kind of leadership is quiet. It’s relational. It doesn’t always come with applause. But it creates connection. And connection is what people are starving for.
So here is my invitation:
The next time you find yourself scrolling for solutions, or jumping into action, or trying to hold it all together for everyone else—pause.
Ask yourself:
What am I feeling right now?
What part of me is trying to fix instead of feel?
What would it look like to lead from presence, not from panic?
The world doesn’t need you to hold it all together. It needs you to be with it. To be with yourself. To be with the people around you, not above them.
In the space of being, not doing, we find a different kind of power. One that doesn’t fix what’s broken, but one that heals what’s been forgotten: our capacity to feel, to connect, and to lead from the truth of who we are.
Because the most powerful leaders aren’t the ones who hold it all together. They’re the ones who are willing to feel their way through.
About the Author
Maryellen May is an executive coach, facilitator, and founder of DOOR 3 Coaching. With over 30 years in transformational sales and leadership training, she helps leaders move from reactive patterns into embodied presence. Her work focuses on emotional clarity, conversational intelligence, and reconnecting leaders with their inner compass
Categories: Leadership
