When Rachel Reeves cried in Parliament this week, it wasn’t a political moment. It was a human one. It was the visible cracking of a nervous system under immense pressure — and it hit a nerve with so many of us because we’ve been there. We’ve held it in until we couldn’t. We’ve broken in private. And sometimes, we’ve broken in public.
To me, her tears weren’t weakness. They were a wake-up call. A signal that we urgently need to re-learn how to work, lead, and live without burning ourselves out in the process. Because the truth is: holding it together at work is often expected. But should it be?
Even high-profile figures are mercifully beginning to model a different approach. Adele famously cancelled tour dates citing emotional strain and vocal health, saying “I’m not going to do a show just to get through it for the sake of money or pressure — I do it to bring joy.” Olympic gymnast Simone Biles stepped back from competition to prioritise her mental health, explaining, “We also have to focus on ourselves, because at the end of the day, we’re human, too.” More recently, actor Tom Holland took a break from social media, openly stating that it was detrimental to his mental health. These are not signs of fragility — they are courageous acts of self-leadership.
Let me tell you a story.
There’s a well-known psychological fact that three of the most significant stressors in life are moving house, divorce, and death. During one chapter of my life, I was navigating two of those three simultaneously. It was winter. I had just bought a ‘forever home’: a crumbling, hundred-year-old mansion with no less than 62 single-paned, frost-glazed-on-the-inside windows, a derelict pool, overgrown semi-buried tennis court, and a million problems waiting to be solved. Two weeks before the move, our au pair suddenly walked out forcing me to frantically spend out-of-work hours hunting, interviewing and desperately praying for an urgent childcare solution. My then-husband and I were reluctantly starting our sad and painful divorce, and on the day of the move were barely speaking as we ploughed through the magnitude of the re-nesting task. The house purchase had once symbolised a new beginning, an exciting shared vision for the future, but that day it was oppressive, overwhelming, frightening actually, too much.
My recently new job was exceptionally demanding at that time. I was working in a company which was growing 30% year-on-year, a ferocious pace of expansion, and I was commuting from Surrey to London fervently trying to make my unfamiliar mark, responsible for four young children at home. It was definitely one of those most stressful career moments life had thrown at me. I had recently cried in the middle of the open plan office, suffered my own Rachel Reeves moment whilst a leader publicly chastised me. I had booked two weeks off for the move, to settle the kids, unpack, decorate, insulate and start building a new life. On Move Day, day 1 of my leave, the inevitable legalities delayed us. We finally got the keys at 4 p.m, three lorry loads of twitchy removal men now doubling the hourly rate for ‘out of hours’ work . Finally we were in, pizzas ordered at 10 p.m. and we sat down, exhausted. I checked my phone: the new childminder had pulled out so wouldn’t be arriving at 8am tomorrow or ever, and work wanted me back on Monday, abruptly cutting my 2 weeks down to 1. 6 days to be boardroom ready.
In that moment I broke. I literally collapsed like I’ve never done before or since. I crumbled. Physically, mentally, emotionally. I started sobbing. Proper, panic-attack-esque weeping. I found a mattress upstairs in a dark room (no lightbulbs installed yet), dragged an uncovered duvet out of a bin bag, over my head and lay there on the floor in a heap of cold, teeth-chattering, inconsolable despair. I truly didn’t know how I would keep going. I felt alone, exhausted, totally devoid of any on to keep on keeping on with. How would I protect my brood and get us through this now? I had taken on too much. I had pushed us all too far. I’d reached the brink and was oh so very, very tired and devoid of solutions.
But at day break, after jolty but semi-rejuvenating sleep, I started metaphorically putting one foot in front of the other. Step by step designing the plan. Calmly, focused, attentively. Over my sunrise tea, I donned my leadership armour, embraced my resilient self and started strategising a route out of the chaotic mess. I found emergency childcare. I halved my two-week plan (less painting, fewer rooms readied, Sunday night for work prep.). And I showed up to the following Monday’s board meeting with my numbers, my strategy, my composure, without a paint splat evident, nor hair out of place. No one around that table had any inkling of the stress I was dealing with at home. I delivered what was required of me.
I share this story because that personal crisis for me marked such a moment off inner change and understanding. I had learned a new depth of resilience and of self-empowerment. I had survived. I had been able to navigate the personal and professional challenges, but only just. Literally just by the skin of my teeth. I began to understand that the real art of leadership isn’t just showing up — it’s knowing how to hold ourselves when everything threatens to fall apart. It’s also knowing our own personal boundaries and what is or isn’t acceptable. (Side note – that company culture of shortening holiday last minute was not acceptable to me.) It’s knowing when too much is too much and recognising what need to change. And that ALWAYS it’s stars within and putting our own oxygen masks on first. Always.
So, should we hold it together at work? Yes. And also, no.
Leadership is a privilege. If you choose it, learn how to carry it. That means doing the internal work to show up with integrity and presence. It means building the resilience to stay calm and clear under pressure. But it also means knowing when you’re not fit to lead — and having the courage to step back.
I believe we can learn how to hold it together. But not through suppression or performative professionalism. That becomes unsustainable and leaves us standing on wobbly, wonky foundations. That risks tumbling tears next to the Prime Minister. I believe a core attribute for successful, sustainable, impactful leadership is that management of self through nervous system regulation, deep and consistent self-awareness, and ongoing personal practices supporting the holistic self: physical, mental, emotional and spiritual.
1. Regulate Your Nervous System
You can’t lead if you’re in a chronic stress response. In 2022, a landmark study in Nature Neuroscience showed that long-term dysregulation of the autonomic nervous system directly impacts executive function, memory, and emotional control (Dahl et al., 2022). Translation? You literally can’t think straight or lead effectively when you’re stuck in fight or flight.
Techniques like breathwork, grounding, cold exposure, and vagus nerve stimulation (even simple humming) help reset the system. These practices aren’t luxuries. They’re leadership tools.
2. Build Emotional Agility
In a 2023 study published in The Journal of Occupational Health Psychology, researchers found that leaders who suppressed emotions had significantly higher rates of burnout and decreased team trust (Nguyen et al., 2023). Emotional intelligence isn’t just a buzzword. It’s a buffer against collapse.
Instead of bottling it up, we must learn to process emotions somatically, to feel and move through them without being derailed. That’s what makes a steady, trustworthy leader.
3. Honour Your Physical Boundaries
Sleep, nutrition, movement. These are not optional. A 2022 review in Frontiers in Psychology linked chronic sleep deprivation in leaders to increased ethical lapses, poor decision-making, and lower team morale (Watts et al., 2022).
You can’t fake vitality. Your physical depletion will show up, no matter how good your intentions.
4. Cultivate Spiritual Anchoring
When everything feels chaotic, we need something deeper to hold onto. A daily practice of meditation, prayer, journaling or time in nature creates space for perspective. It roots us in meaning. Purpose is the ultimate protector against burnout.
In my own journey, it wasn’t until I integrated all four layers — physical, mental, emotional and spiritual — that I truly ended my cycle of burnout.
So yes, hold it together. But hold it together with skill. With structure. With self-responsibility.
Know when to step back. If you’re emotionally volatile or physically collapsing, don’t walk into the boardroom. That’s not strength — that’s misjudgement. You wouldn’t expect a popstar with laryngitis to perform. Don’t perform leadership when you’re energetically incapacitated.
Know thyself. Learn thyself. Lead thyself. Then lead others.
This is the new paradigm of leadership. Not frenetic pushing. Not emotional suppression. Not perfectionism.
Success with grace.
More detail on this model of sustainable leadership can be found in my book, Big Impact Without Burnout. Let’s lead a new era.
References:
- Dahl, M. J. et al. (2022). “Autonomic Dysregulation Impairs Executive Function.” Nature Neuroscience. https://doi.org/10.1038/s41593-022-01011-1
- Nguyen, L. et al. (2023). “Emotion Regulation Strategies and Leader Burnout.” Journal of Occupational Health Psychology. https://doi.org/10.1037/ocp0000331
- Watts, J. N. et al. (2022). “Sleep Deprivation in Leaders: Impacts on Ethics and Decision-Making.” Frontiers in Psychology. https://doi.org/10.3389/fpsyg.2022.823504
