My classmates voted me “Most Likely to Succeed” in high school. Optimism, a passion for language, and a strong work ethic served me well over the decades.
Unlike the carefree 1970s, this season ushered in a somber “senior superlative” moment for me. I am experiencing grief more than any other time in my life. My greatest source of grief happened when I became estranged from my best friend and former partner.
Grief remains an unpopular topic in Western culture, yet it deserves recognition. If my grief management lessons can reduce prolonged sadness or suffering for you during this season, then keep reading.
I previously thought grief was best managed privately. Now it’s ubiquitous. At the individual level, professionals are quietly grieving job security, economic stability, and a manageable pace of change. Across organizations, legacy brands such as Disney+, Target, Cracker Barrel, and Lululemon face customer defection and brand decay. US institutions report major disruption, too.
Here’s my theory on the root cause of excessive grief—and how we can address it.
For decades, we’ve been taught how to acquire—objects, degrees, friends, spouse(s), and attention. Ads and social media perpetuate the belief that fulfillment comes from more!
Yet, as John James and Russell Friedman explain in The Grief Recovery Handbook, we lack any guidance on how to respond when we lose what matters. We are left alone to build our own playbook—one that acknowledges grief. Not one that suppresses or denies it.
Old myths about grief do not serve us. Here are three that my parents taught me:
1. “Smile your way through the pain and stay positive.”
Sadness has been stigmatized in leadership cultures. Yet excessive positivity erodes trust. It’s performative. I participated in a leadership conference in Nashville, where a global nonprofit executive told us that CEOs should always be positive and smile. This falseness only accomplishes one thing: it amplifies the BS meter volume.
2. “Distract yourself and stay busy.”
Busyness often masks avoidance and cannot fill the void created by loss. It only works as a temporary band-aid. Some of my relatives and a former partner excel at over-committing. Their schedule serves as a shield, and blocks connection and intimacy.
3. “Grieve alone and don’t burden others.”
We are wired for connection. Wherever we find our tribe–within MEA, our synagogue, swim team, or school–we can leverage their wisdom to let go of the past. Most workplaces fall short in this area. How many employers offer career loss support groups versus anodyne, impersonal outplacement factories?
I found an exercise that helped me process grief and initiate healing–and might help you, too.
Start by asking two questions: What am I grieving right now? If I were to process this grief, how might I feel more human and whole?
Then, write a goodbye letter. Use a pen and paper, not your laptop or AI. The visceral experience of writing activates your reticular activation system. Typing does not.
Use the letter to say adios to 2025. Or, like me, you can dedicate it to someone you loved and lost. Here’s what your letter can include:
- A list of apologies for any unmet expectations (such as “I never told you how much I valued Sunday family dinners”).
- A list of the people or the actions you forgive (those who contributed to the loss).
- Things for which you are grateful: lessons learned, that romantic getaway, or a health breakthrough.
- Close with “Thank you (name of the loss). And now, goodbye.” This exact language is essential to releasing any clenching to the past.
Now that you acknowledge it, grief can leave the building (specifically, your brain and nervous system).
In Living Beautifully with Uncertainty and Change, Pema Chodron wrote: “In 2000, the elders of the Hopi Nation made a prediction about the future…They said that we were now in a fast-flowing river, and that many of us would be afraid and try to cling to the shore. But those who cling to the shore, they said, will suffer greatly.’ The (elders’) advice was to let go of the shore, push off into the middle of the river…and ‘celebrate.’”
The fast-flowing river is now my classroom. Care to join me there and celebrate?
-Lisa
Longtime MEA student and evangelist Lisa Nirell helps senior leaders navigate high-stakes transitions. She’s written and edited six books, including The Mindful Marketer. You’ll find her planning her next open water swim adventure or caring for her high-maintenance cat, Mooji. Download her free insights and invites at themindfulmarketer.com.