Give Me Your Tired

I’ve been missing New York City lately.

Maybe it was watching And Just Like That - the skyline glinting like glass dreams, the pace of the sidewalks, the way the city buzzes even when nothing’s happening. I didn’t live like the women on the show. I didn’t have the fashion or the corner office. But I did have the energy of that place thrumming through my bones, it's electric. And sometimes, even now, it calls me back.

It happened the other night.

The show faded to black, and I found myself remembering the day I took my niece to the Statue of Liberty and Ellis Island. We rode the ferry across a choppy river, wind pulling at our jackets, the skyline stretching behind us like a memory you can’t quite touch. We walked the halls. Heard the names. Read the stories. Families clutching hope and paperwork. People arriving with nothing but their names stitched inside the seams of their coats. Somewhere in the maze of plaques and portraits, I saw that familiar quote again in the bronze plate at the foot of the Statue of Liberty:

“Give me your tired, your poor, your huddled masses yearning to breathe free.”

And just like that, something opened in me, an epiphany, a knowing.

I thought about the tired ones we pass by every day, not on a ferry, not through immigration lines, but right there in our teams, our circles, our Zoom calls.

The ones who are “fine” but fading. The ones who smile but shrink. The ones who lead others but have no one leading them. The ones who quietly wish someone would just notice.

And it hit me: This is what we’re missing in leadership.

We keep chasing high performers and forgetting the quietly overwhelmed. We reward or coach the loud, and overlook the loyal. We invest in the ambitious but ignore the anxious.

But the tired ones? The ones yearning to breathe? That’s where the gold is. That’s where the true heart of leadership lives - not in celebrating the strong but in championing the weary.

What If We Started Leading Like Liberty?

What if, instead of filtering for the flawless, we searched for the exhausted? What if our leadership lens wasn’t fixed on “Who’s delivering the most?” but shifted to ask, “Who needs to be seen right now?”Here are a few shifts I’m trying to make. Maybe they’ll help you too:

1. Scan the room for silence.

Look past the loud voices. Who hasn't spoken today? Who avoids eye contact? Who keeps their camera off? Their silence isn’t always disengagement. Sometimes it’s disappointment. Sometimes it’s shame. Sometimes it’s burnout. Lead by reaching for the quiet ones.

2. Ask better questions.

Skip “How’s it going?” and try:

• “Is there anything weighing on you lately?”

• “What’s something I might be missing about how you're doing?”

• “Where do you need more support right now?”

These aren't productivity check-ins. These are humanity check-ins.

3. Celebrate invisible wins.

Not every victory is a new sale or a bold idea. Sometimes it’s showing up. Staying sober. Not quitting. Not snapping. Ask yourself, what fight did they win just to make it here today?

4. Drop the mask yourself.

If you're the leader, take the first risk. Share something real. Be human first. Not perfect - present. Your honesty gives others permission to come out of hiding.

5. Hold space without needing to fix.

You don’t have to solve everything. Sometimes your job is to say:“I see you. I’m not going anywhere. And I still believe in you.” That alone can pull someone back from the edge.

Leaders, This Is Our Work.

Leadership isn’t found in corner offices or conference stages. It’s found in the back corners of the break room. In the last Zoom square on the screen. In the hallway cry you didn’t rush past. In the uncelebrated effort of the team member who’s been barely holding it together.

"Give me your tired."

That’s not just a poem etched into a statue. That’s a call to action.

It’s the heart of The Damaged Leader - this movement, this way of leading, this refusal to pretend that strength means being spotless.

We believe people matter. Especially the ones who think they don’t. So go look for them. Notice them. See the weariness hiding beneath, “I’m good.” And lead like you mean it.

Because the tired ones? They’re waiting for someone to choose them.

Chris

Reflection from an anonymous Damaged Leader

“I Won’t Quit Today.”

Our high performers?  They’re the tired ones.  They’re the ones burning the candle at both ends but only from work, not work and fun. They are still showing up, still saying yes, still carrying the weight with one hand and holding up others with the other. New team members don’t know the tired.  And those that say 'yes' when they should learn to say 'no' or stay silent are contributing through complacency. They don’t see what it costs.

This… this is the real quiet quitting.

Not leaving the job. But quietly slipping into “fine.”

It’s the slow surrender that happens while hope still burns just enough to stay in the fight.

Hope will be: 

Enough to believe people still matter.

Enough to want to make a difference.

Enough to try to be the tree others lean on. The one who shades, supports, shelters.

The rest?

It becomes background noise.

New bosses and new initiatives come in, thinking this will be the difference that crosses the bridge. But the "why" and bigger picture are missing. The tired don't even know what they are contributing towards, why their exhaustion is worth the price, why more is expected with less given back.

This story isn’t like some TV episode. It doesn’t fade to black with a tidy ending.  But yet we do often go Back To Black. Is that a form of quiet quitting, I wonder?  It’s gray.  And fuzzy.  And uncomfortable. It's not cleaned up in 30 minutes. There is no credit roll to know when something is done. The next episode features a completely different storyline, which leaves the core point unclear and confusing. The tired still plug along, hoping there will be a plot twist that pulls it all together.

And still…

We breathe. We stay.

We whisper to ourselves:

“I won’t quit today, quietly or otherwise.”

A Message from Chris and Natalie:

Thank you to all of the readers and subscribers who have embraced and supported The Damaged Leader. We’re deeply grateful for your messages, your encouragement, and the stories you’ve shared about how our work has resonated with you.

As we’ve listened to your experiences and reflections, we’ve seen how powerful it can be to highlight your truths alongside ours. Your leadership journeys, filled with lessons, growth, and resilience, are inspiring and valuable to others walking similar paths.

Some of you have chosen to share anonymously, others by name, but each story matters. For those following the blog, we invite you to join us in welcoming these leaders and their voices into the conversation.

Email The Damaged Leader: hello@thedamagedleader.com