Leading Forward, Stepping Back – The Balance of Strength and Surrender

March 3, 2025

Holding On, Letting Go

Round two of my chemo/immunotherapy treatment is scheduled for Thursday—if I can get my white blood cell count up by Wednesday. That’s the hurdle right now. My body needs to be strong enough to handle what’s coming next, and I know I haven’t made it easy on myself.

I’ve been pushing too hard, trying to maintain a grip on the things that make me feel like me—going into the office, setting up Zoom for the University of Scouting, trying to support the Commissioner College next weekend, trying to keep things moving. But in my effort to hold on, I’ve risked what matters most—my health, progress, and ability to get better.

That means making changes.

I need to be more thoughtful about how I take care of myself. That starts with eating better—not just more, but better. My immune system is struggling, and I can’t afford to ignore it anymore. I need to focus on proteins to help rebuild my body, vitamins to strengthen my defenses, antioxidants to fight off the things my system isn’t strong enough to battle on its own. I’ve never been one to overthink food, but now, every meal feels like a choice between helping myself or making things more challenging.

And it’s not just food. It’s rest. It’s slowing down, something that feels unnatural to me. I’ve always moved fast, taken on more, been the one to show up no matter what. But cancer doesn’t care about my determination. It doesn’t respect my sense of responsibility. It forces me to stop whether I want to or not, and I have to learn how to listen—before my body forces the issue for me.

That’s a hard lesson.

This disease doesn’t care about my work ethic, responsibilities, or sense of duty. I am not above it, and I need to listen. I need to rest.

But that’s where I struggle.

Leadership and the Weight of Responsibility

Because leadership is not something I turn off at the end of the workday. It’s not a title I carry only in meetings or emails. It’s part of who I am. Leadership, to me, is about responsibility—not the kind measured in performance reviews, but the kind that tells people: You are not alone. I will stand with you. I will look out for you.

That’s what weighs on me.

I feel guilty stepping away. I know my team needs guidance. I know there are decisions to be made, work to be done, people looking for direction. I know leadership matters most in uncertain times, and the world is not short on uncertainty right now.

I don’t want to be absent when people need me. I don’t want to leave a void.

The Weight of Being Needed

That thought stays with me, heavier than I’d like to admit. It’s not about ego. It’s not about control. It’s about responsibility—the deep, ingrained belief that part of my purpose is to be there for people. To provide direction, offer support, and ensure that when things feel uncertain, they know someone is looking out for them.

I’ve spent years building trust and fostering a culture of accountability, service, and commitment to something bigger than ourselves. I know what it feels like to work in environments where leadership is absent—where decisions go unmade, guidance is unclear, and people feel like they are on their own. I never wanted that for the people I serve. I never wanted them to feel unsupported, especially not now, when so much in the world feels unstable.

And yet, here I am, forced to wrestle with the fact that I cannot be everywhere, that I cannot push through this by sheer force of will. That if I keep trying to be the leader I was before this diagnosis—before this fight—I might end up being no leader at all.

A Different Kind of Strength

But maybe leadership isn’t about holding everything together myself. Maybe it’s about making sure that, when I do step back, things don’t fall apart.

That’s a different kind of leadership that isn’t about presence but preparation. It’s about trusting the work I’ve already done—the training, the mentorship, the structures I’ve put in place—to carry forward even in my absence.

Authentic leadership is not about being indispensable. It’s about building something strong enough that it doesn’t depend on you alone. It’s about ensuring that people feel empowered, not abandoned when you step back. They have the confidence to make decisions, lead, and serve—not because you are watching over them but because they have the tools and the foundation to stand on their own.

That shift in thinking is hard for me. But I have to believe in the people I’ve invested in, just as they’ve believed in me. I have to trust that the kind of leadership I’ve modeled—one rooted in integrity, accountability, and service—will continue, even if I’m not steering the ship every day.

If leadership is about ensuring the success of those who come after you, then maybe my greatest act as a leader isn’t just showing up. Maybe it’s stepping back in a way that allows others to step forward. They are ready—I know they are—and I just need to give them the room to grow even more.

It’s hard for me to step away, even temporarily. But I must remind myself that stepping back is not abandoning my team, friends, or work. It’s trusting them. It’s allowing them the space to lead. And in doing so, maybe I’m still leading—just in a different way.

And maybe that’s not a loss. Maybe that’s legacy.

Looking Toward the Third Act

Last week, I submitted my paperwork, setting a date in the near future—a milestone to work toward. Maria and I talked about it, settled on something that feels right for now. It’s flexible. We can move it forward or back if we need to. But I think it’s time to start looking toward my third act.

And that brings a whole new set of questions.

What does this next chapter look like? What does leadership look like for me when I’m no longer in my current role? How do I continue to serve, contribute, and lead when my life structure shifts?

Because I know I’m not done. I know my purpose doesn’t end just because my job title changes. Leadership isn’t about where you sit—it’s about what you do with the time, experience, and influence you have.

Maybe my third act is about mentorship, about helping others find their path. Maybe it’s about advocacy, using what I’ve learned to help people facing their own battles. Maybe it’s something I haven’t even considered yet.

All I know is that change is coming, and for once, I need to embrace it instead of fighting against it.

For Now, I Rest

Not because I want to, but because I have to. The people who depend on me—my team, my friends, my family—deserve a leader who takes his own advice, who listens, and who knows that taking care of himself is not a retreat but an investment in the future.

Because leadership isn’t just about showing up—it’s about making sure that when you can’t, the people you’ve served are strong enough to carry on. And if I’ve done my job right, they already are.

So, for now, I rest.

And when I return back to health, I’ll be ready for whatever comes next.