The smoldering rubble of toxic resilience smacks our leaders as much as it hits our frontline staff.
A deputy director I coached last year told me, “I’m supposed to show up cool, calm, and collected, but I’m barely keeping my stuff together.” Her days had become a blur of squelching one forest fire after another. She was mitigating interpersonal conflict between her direct reports and her boss. Her buildings were having issues due to deferred maintenance. She had to take over a large project because a department head suddenly quit. She confessed that she had started answering emails in the middle of sleepless nights because it was “the only quiet time left.”
As a coach, I often ask folks what would happen if you stopped doing something. While I do believe that the yes and philosophy has it place, I also argue that no but is a quick and effective way to clean your plate during periods of significant overwhelm.
When I asked what would happen if she stopped doing that, she laughed and grumpled, “It's not an option.”
That’s the illusion of control that toxic resilience creates. We believe the system is fragile and we are the only thing holding it up, so we keep pushing. We stop delegating. We start normalizing the impossible. We tacitly teach our teams that exhaustion is just part of the job.