staceybooks

There are days when the weight of the world is just too much. Days when even the small wins get swallowed up by overwhelming setbacks. When the loudest thing in the room is your own inner voice whispering you’ve failed. Not just yourself but the people who believed in you, who counted on you, who fought beside you.

There are seasons in life and leadership where no matter how many hours you put in, how many sacrifices you make, or how fiercely you advocate for your team, it still feels like you’re coming up short. It’s a hard pill to swallow when the truth is: sometimes the circumstances aren’t fair. Sometimes the system is broken. Sometimes the expectations are impossible. And sometimes we’re the ones standing in our own way.

But what really knocks the wind out of you is this: when you did give it everything. When your team burned the midnight oil, skipped meals, worked through PTO, stayed late for a student or an overwhelmed colleague not because they had to, but because they care. Because what we do matters. Because the mission is bigger than any job description.

This isn’t a 9 to 5 kind of calling. This is an all-consuming, heart-wrenching, constantly shifting kind of work. And in today’s climate it feels like we’re swimming upstream. Funding is uncertain. Expectations are rising. Needs are multiplying. And still, we show up. Even with a target on our backs. Even when we’re getting gut punched by bureaucracy, misperceptions, or glass door commentary laced with bitterness instead of truth.

Someone told me recently, “There’s no crying in baseball.” But this isn’t baseball. This is real life. These are real people. And the stakes? They’re higher than anyone who’s never stood in these shoes could possibly imagine.

There are moments I want to disappear. To crawl under a rock and pretend it all doesn’t exist. But it does. The pressure is real. The responsibility is real. And so is the pain of feeling like no matter what you do, it’s never enough.

But here’s the thing. Pain doesn’t get the final say. Not when we lead with integrity. Not when our heart is in the fight. Not when we surround ourselves with people who care just as deeply as we do.

So to every leader who is exhausted, to every team member who is pouring out more than they think they have to give, to the one reading this who feels like they’re failing—I see you. You’re not failing. You’re human. You’re fighting battles others may never see. And that in itself is something to be proud of.

Even when it doesn’t feel like enough.

Especially then.