From the THX Series Hub: THX Reflections & Personal Essays
A raw reflection on what it means to keep showing up while learning to let go—because sometimes the bravest leaders are the ones still healing.
For most of my life, I believed that leadership meant sacrificing yourself for others.
You take the hits.
You keep going.
You push back until your back’s against the wall.
You fight until you can’t fight anymore—
And then you fight some more.
To lead was to exhaust yourself. To lead was to do it silently. To lead was to keep going, because no one else would.
There was no space for a leader to heal.
Retreat was failure.
And rest? That was for the ones who had backup. I didn’t.
I became a leader early.
Because I was born with a disability and lived with pain.
Because if I wasn’t leading, I believed I was a burden.
Because someone had to step up—and I saw no one else.
So I stepped up. Again and again.
In school. In work. In fatherhood.
I led organizations. I led teams. I led my family through crisis after crisis.
I even led the way out of the life I was never meant to live.
And still, inside, I believed I wasn’t enough.
That I had to earn my right to exist by always doing more.
Rest wasn’t just rare. It was not allowed.
The moment dinner ended as a child, it was time to do chores. Then homework. Then more work.
Savoring the moment? That wasn’t a concept I learned.
Stillness was shameful. Silence was suspicious. Doing nothing meant you were nothing.
So I craved the dark—
Not out of fear, but for the quiet.
I craved the cold, the stillness, the silence.
I craved what I didn’t yet know how to give myself: a pause.
The past four years almost broke me.
A separation. A divorce. Multiple moves.
Two daughters to raise and launch into the world.
COVID. Financial collapse. Business rebuilds. Near-death moments.
There was no space to write. Only survive.
And yet, somehow, I did more than survive.
I led.
And I healed.
Not all at once. Not perfectly. But enough.
Enough to learn that rest isn’t weakness.
Enough to understand that boundaries are not betrayal.
Enough to see awe in the fractal patterns of clouds and trees.
Enough to begin reclaiming my ability to just be.
This is leadership too.
Not the kind people always applaud.
Not the kind that makes the highlight reel.
But the kind that changes everything.
For you. For your children. For the world you’re still shaping.
If you’re in the middle of it—still leading, still healing—
I want you to hear this clearly:
You are not a burden.
You are not broken.
You are not behind.
You are brave.
You are rebuilding.
You are already transforming.
And maybe, just maybe, it’s time to let the pause be part of the plan.
Reflection:
Where have you believed you had to prove your worth by pushing through pain?
What would happen if you let stillness be sacred, too?

Interpretation:
This image captures the essence of what it means to lead from a place of solitude, reflection, and quiet strength. The figure walks forward—not toward a spotlight, but into soft light breaking through the fog. It's a path of healing as much as leadership, where progress is felt more than seen, and presence is its own kind of power.
Tony this writing speaks directly to my soul. The unexpected comes knocking at our door and it’s not always pretty or welcomed. Much of the time it’s in those moments where we get to truly know ourselves- know what we are made of and what we are capable of. We are tested. Over and over again. I’ve come to see that as part of the human condition. It’s the hard stuff that causes us to grow, but we have to choose “in” and do the inner work along the way. Growth never happens to us, we must do the deep work in order to heal and that can surely look (and feel!) messy at times. Courage is not about perfection but being willing to go first. To show the way. To do it messy. To be imperfect. To stumble and get back up, again and again. The healing journey is a Wild Ride and soooo worth the price of admission! 💫