when THE words REFUSE TO SHOW

I Didn’t Have Time to Write...

And I Beat Myself Up for It.

There are days—weeks, if I’m honest—when the words don’t show up on schedule.

The idea sits there.

The post waits to be written.

The cursor blinks like it’s disappointed in me.

And instead of grace, I reach for judgment.

You should have made time.

If this mattered enough, you would’ve written it.

What kind of writer doesn’t write? What kind of leader doesn’t show up consistently?

That spiral is familiar. Comfortable, even.

It feels productive, like accountability. Hustle. Grind.

But it’s not.

It’s just another way we damage ourselves in the name of discipline.

Here’s the truth we rarely say out loud:

Sometimes we don’t write because we’re tired.

Sometimes because we’re carrying too much.

Sometimes because leading real people, real businesses, real lives takes more out of us than we expected.

And then we compound it—by deciding that the pause means something is wrong with us.

That’s the moment I remembered what The Damaged Leader is actually about.

Not perfection.

Not consistency at all costs.

Not performing growth for an audience.

It’s about telling the truth when things don’t look polished.

It’s about admitting that even the people who believe deeply in reflection, writing, and showing up… sometimes don’t have it in them.

And instead of hiding that, we name it.

Because the damage isn’t missing a post.

The damage is turning that miss into a verdict on our worth.

Somewhere along the way, leadership became synonymous with output.

Posts published.

Thoughts shared.

Momentum maintained.

But leadership—real leadership—also happens in the quiet spaces.

In the weeks when you’re absorbing instead of producing.

In the moments when you choose not to force words that aren’t ready.

In those quiet times, you show your team it is ok to recharge yourself.

Not writing doesn’t mean you’ve stopped being reflective.

It often means you’re still processing.

And that matters.

This blog exists because we are human before we are leaders.

Because growth isn’t linear.

Because sometimes the most honest thing you can say is, “I didn’t have it this week.”

So if you’ve been beating yourself up for not posting, not writing, not creating, not enthusiastically leading—pause.

That voice telling you you’ve failed?

That’s not discipline.

That’s damage trying to stay in control.

The work isn’t to push harder.

The work is to notice the pattern… and choose a kinder one.

Showing up as a leader doesn’t always look like visibility.

Sometimes it looks like restraint.

Sometimes it’s choosing not to speak until you actually know what you believe.

Sometimes it’s canceling the perfectly worded post because it isn’t honest enough yet.

We’ve confused presence with productivity.

We’ve told leaders that if they aren’t seen, they aren’t leading.

But some of the strongest leadership moments happen offstage—when no one is applauding, liking, or sharing.

Your team doesn’t need you polished every day.

They need you grounded.

They need you self-aware enough to know when you’re forcing it—and brave enough to pause instead.

That pause?

That’s leadership too.

Because when you allow yourself to be human, you give everyone around you permission to do the same.

You model something far more powerful than consistency: integrity.

The Damaged Leader doesn’t disappear when things get quiet.

They stay present—in thought, in care, in intention—even when the output slows.

The words will come back.

They always do.

And when they do, they’ll be truer for the space you allowed yourself to take.

That pause?

That’s leadership too.

Because when you allow yourself to be human, you give everyone around you permission to do the same.

You model something far more powerful than consistency: integrity.

The Damaged Leader doesn’t disappear when things get quiet.

They stay present—in thought, in care, in intention—even when the output slows.

The words will come back.

They always do.

And when they do, they’ll be truer for the space you allowed yourself to take. Thank you for allowing us to be Damaged Leaders!

Natalie's Notes:

This week’s blog made me feel more seen than I have in a long time. In a season that is saturated with “new year, new me,” I’m simply not there.

Right now, I’m present me. Present in a way that also brings guilt. I’m taking a few weeks away from work and intentionally trying to show up for myself, my husband, and my son — in that order. That priority list alone feels radical.

When you finally create space, you realize how much you’ve missed while moving at full speed. I am not someone who slows down easily. Even on days with nothing on the calendar, I feel the pull to race forward, as if stillness is failure. But race toward what? And when I don’t move, the guilt creeps in. Guilt for resting, guilt for not being productive, guilt for choosing pause.

Even on the brink of burnout, I feel compelled to keep going. Like hitting the wall at mile 20 of a marathon and deciding the answer is not to stop, but to run harder - even when the body and mind are clearly asking for something else.

Like Chris shared, the challenge isn’t always having thoughts or feelings, it’s getting the words to travel cleanly from brain to pen. Sometimes they stall somewhere in between, and that pause is where I find myself right now.

I’m not making resolutions this year. There will be no “new year, new me.” What I am working toward is a new year with intention — goals instead of resolutions, direction instead of pressure. I don’t yet know what the full plan looks like, and that’s okay. I’m sitting with those thoughts, giving them room to take shape, and beginning to build a roadmap alongside the people I love most.

For now, this is enough.

Thank you for being here.