Beyond the Spotlight: What They Don't Tell You About Leadership

In any career, reaching a leadership position often seems like a logical progression. Yet, there are countless lessons that MBA programs and leadership schools can't teach you, or that you may overlook until you live them firsthand.

My journey into leadership wasn't a choice – it was woven into the fabric of my identity from childhood. As the first daughter and granddaughter in a Nigerian family, leadership responsibilities were thrust upon me before I could fully comprehend their weight. I became the family's second-in-command to my mother, managing household dynamics with an instinct that would later shape my professional path. These early lessons in leadership continued through medical school, where I served as a senate member and later deputy chairperson for our hall of residence. Looking back, these roles were preparing me for challenges I couldn't yet imagine.

Upon completing my residency and relocating to Canada, I hoped to keep a lower profile. Yet leadership has a way of finding those who try to avoid it. Despite my intentions, I found myself drawn into various committees and activities, perhaps because of my natural inclination to improve any organization I joined. Before I knew it, I was serving as vice president and later president of our local medical association. When our medical network needed a chief of staff, all eyes turned to me. I declined initially, not just because of my perceived lack of experience, but because of a deeper hesitation. Like many physicians, I had always viewed those in leadership positions as "them" – the ones who had crossed to "the dark side" of administration. I was even among those who joked about these leaders, never imagining I would one day join their ranks.

The search continued until a colleague proposed an unexpected solution: they would take the position, but only if I joined as co-leader. This was unprecedented; the role wasn't designed for co-leadership. Yet, seeing no other option, I accepted, setting my conditions and telling myself this would be different. After all, I would be working alongside an old friend. How challenging could it be?

What started as a seemingly straightforward partnership with a friend quickly evolved into one of the most challenging experiences of my career. Imposter syndrome doesn't begin to describe what I felt, sitting among seasoned physician leaders in a position for which I had neither training nor preparation. As a Black woman in medicine, I was accustomed to being "different," but this spotlight magnified everything.

I faced a choice: steer the ship to safety with my co-captain, abandon ship, or let it sink. I chose to learn to steer. With my characteristic determination not to fail – or at least to fail trying – I threw myself into leadership development. I devoured books, attended seminars, enrolled in programs, and consumed leadership content voraciously. Slowly, I began to find my footing at the leadership table.

The isolation of leadership crept in slowly, like a tide rising so gradually you don't notice until you're surrounded. Colleagues who once shared casual lunch breaks now measured their words carefully in my presence. The easy camaraderie of the physicians' lounge gave way to subtle tensions. I had crossed an invisible line, becoming one of "them" – the leaders we had once viewed with skepticism. Even my co-leadership arrangement, which I had hoped would provide mutual support, began to crack under the weight of differing leadership philosophies and competing visions.

The personal toll became impossible to ignore. My husband, always my strongest supporter, noticed the changes before I did. "You're not the same person," he said one evening, his voice heavy with concern. There were nights I'd come home and cry, the weight of isolation and responsibility crushing against my chest. I followed every protocol, checked every box, yet discovered that leadership's greatest challenges rarely appear in any manual or guidebook.

The co-leadership arrangement revealed its flaws like hairline cracks in fine china – subtle at first, then increasingly apparent. A mentor's early warning echoed in my mind: "Have you ever seen two captains successfully steering one ship?" I had dismissed it then, confident in our friendship's strength. But leadership has a way of testing even the strongest bonds. Our different approaches to decision-making, once complementary in friendship, became sources of tension in leadership. What started as minor disagreements over process grew into fundamental conflicts about vision and direction. I watched helplessly as our professional disagreements began to erode decades of personal history.

The strain manifested physically. Sleepless nights became routine, stress ulcers developed, and the weight of leadership began to seep into every aspect of my life. My husband noticed me checking emails during our family time or kid’s sport activities. Family dinner conversations increasingly centered around work challenges. One evening, watching me pace our bedroom at midnight reviewing meeting notes, my husband asked a simple question that stopped me in my tracks: "Is this role worth sacrificing your joy and our family's peace?"

This prompted weeks of profound soul-searching. Leadership positions can be replaced, I realized, but time lost with family is irretrievable. My most sacred roles – life partner, wife and mother – were suffering under the weight of my professional responsibilities. After careful reflection, I made what felt like both the most difficult and the most obvious decision: I would step down.

Resignation felt like diving into unknown waters. What I thought would be a simple administrative process – submitting a letter and moving on – became a profound journey of self-discovery. The shame hit first: Had I proven right every skeptic who doubted a woman, let alone a Black woman, could handle this level of leadership? Then came the doubt, seeping into every corner of my confidence. The overwhelming support from colleagues and team members, rather than comforting me, initially intensified my turmoil. Had I made a terrible mistake?

It took time to recognize these feelings for what they were: grief. I was mourning not just a position, but an identity I had grown to embrace. The leadership role had become intertwined with my sense of self, and disentangling the two required more courage than taking on the position in the first place.

Recovery wasn't a straight line, but rather a gradual rediscovery of self. The gym became my sanctuary, where the rhythm of movement replaced the chaos of leadership decisions. The punching bag absorbed frustrations I hadn't even known I was carrying. I returned to old passions: sketching clothing designs, a creative outlet that had once brought me joy. Then, surprisingly, I found solace in woodworking – a completely new pursuit. There was something therapeutic about transforming raw materials into something beautiful, perhaps a metaphor for my own transformation.

These activities weren't just hobbies; they were lifelines pulling me back to myself. Each project, whether a sketch or a wooden creation, reminded me that my identity wasn't confined to a leadership title. I was, and always had been, more than my professional role.

Key Lessons That Transformed My Leadership Journey:

• Set crystal-clear expectations from the start, especially in shared leadership roles
• Accept that the view from the top often means watching relationships transform
• Prepare for challenges that no leadership book could predict
• Understand that choosing to step down can be as courageous as stepping up
• Embrace every experience – even the painful ones – as opportunities for growth

Today, despite my earlier reluctance, I find myself in a different leadership position. The previous experience, though challenging, served as an intensive masterclass in leadership. I approach this new role with hard-earned wisdom, clearer boundaries, and a deeper understanding of both leadership's costs and rewards.

To every leader reading this: your struggles are real, your doubts are valid, and your journey matters. Leadership can feel like a solitary climb, but you're not alone on this path. The isolation, the imposter syndrome, the weight of responsibility – these are shared experiences that connect leaders across different fields and levels.

Remember that leadership isn't just about steering organizations; it's about growing into the person capable of that responsibility while remaining true to yourself. If you're feeling overwhelmed, questioning your decisions, or navigating the complex dynamics of leadership, know that others have walked this path before you and are willing to help light the way.

It may be lonely at the top, but we can build bridges between our individual leadership islands. Whether you need guidance, support, or simply a listening ear from someone who understands, reach out. Your journey matters, and sometimes the strongest leadership move is asking for help.

Stay nurtured, stay inspired, and most importantly, stay true to yourself as you create the world you envision.

The adventure continues...

Mofolashadé Onaolapo Haastrup