The Everyday Grief Coach

Ten years ago, a dear friend and colleague pulled me aside and said something I wasn't fully ready to hear. She told me she saw a gift in the way I showed up with my corporate consulting clients and my direct reports. What she saw was my coaching presence, an embodiment she said I needed to stop keeping to myself.

I'm so glad I listened.

Today, I'm sitting with a post from one of my clients that stopped me completely.

Two years ago, she was deep in corporate life, showing up every day, and quietly losing confidence in a vision she'd been carrying. I saw something in her she was still learning to see in herself. I kept pushing. She kept building.

Two weeks ago, guess what happened? The Bloom Africa hosted Fail Forward Women in Atlanta, her first large U.S. event. Over 100 women in the room. Revenue positive. Impact reaching 30,000+ women and girls across 13+ countries.

She wrote: "Thank you for seeing the next chapter before I could."

I don't take those words lightly. This is why I do this work.

What I know after a decade of this: the most powerful thing a coach can do is refuse to let someone shrink their vision just because the season feels hard. Sometimes the people we serve need someone to hold the picture steady while they find their footing.

That's the work. And it is just as fulfilling today as it was the very first time.

If you're in a season that looks like loss from the outside, I want you to know it may be the setup for everything that's next.

#failforwardwomen #thebloomafrica #failingforward | Tosin Durotoye Slide 2 is where this story starts. Two years ago, my executive coach, Dr. Anitra Manning looked at me and said — keep building The Bloom Africa . You can’t stop. I was deep in corporate life. Showing up every day. I’d lost confidence in my own vision. But Dr. A saw something I was still learn...

This past weekend, I coached Luvvie Ajayi Jones live from the stage at the Fail Forward Women’s Summit in Atlanta.

And I have been sitting with one question ever since.

Not about Luvvie. About all of us.

Why do we treat pulling away from people as though it is the responsible thing to do when life gets hard? We tell ourselves we are protecting others from our mess. That we are figuring it out. That nobody wants to hear about it. And so we go quiet. We manage the image. We perform recovery while privately unraveling. And we call that strength.

But what I witnessed on that stage was something different.

Luvvie has been honest with the world about what entrepreneurship has cost her. About the weight of being the rescuer in every narrative of her own life. About what sabbatical really means when you finally stop running long enough to ask who you are becoming. She did not arrive at that clarity alone. She arrived there because she stayed in community. Because she allowed people to see her. Because she was willing to receive what her own life was trying to teach her. Now, what I’m talking about is is not weakness. It’s actually the most disciplined thing a human being can do.

Here is what I want to say to everyone who is navigating a hard season right now, whether it is a job loss, a career that no longer fits, or simply the quiet exhaustion of having poured yourself into something that was not enough to hold you.

The disconnection is not protecting you. It is keeping you from the very data you need to grow.

Your story, the difficult parts especially, is not a burden to manage alone. It is a curriculum. And the people in your life are part of how you learn it.

Stay in community. Let someone see where you actually are. Not the polished version. The real one. That is where transformation begins.

I have witnessed grieving families in the ICU and executives in the boardroom deciding who stays and who goes. On paper, layoffs are called "organizational realignment," a sanitized term crafted to protect systems: but not people. But what is really happening underneath the corporate language is this: your body does not distinguish between the ache of losing a loved one and the devastation of losing your work, your community, your sense of self. We call one "loss" and the other "strategy," yet both are experiences of profound grief. But when job loss is treated as a checklist or a logistics problem: collected badges and COBRA links: we break the spirit of those entrusted to us. But when leadership allows for a Strategic Pause, we move from harm to healing; we create space for transformation, dignity, and the restoration of wholeness. This is how we move through the valley to rise, liberated and whole.

Most people think losing a job is just about money, but let’s be honest: when work ends, it's so much more. You lose a sense of who you are, the rhythms that shaped your days, your community of colleagues, and the future you’d pictured. We call it an "occupational breakup" because, like any heartbreak, it deserves time to grieve and space to heal.

The Strategic Pause isn’t just a breath: it’s a sacred act of honoring your loss, naming what’s missing, and giving yourself permission to rebuild from a place of wholeness, not woundedness. It’s okay to be in the messy middle. That’s where your real strength shows up. Give yourself grace along the way. You’re not alone.

When layoffs and constant change amp up anxiety, leaders are told to stay steady "for the team." But what is really happening in these moments is that our nervous systems disconnect: we spiral between panic and numbness, unable to think clearly or lead with presence. Neuroscience and Polyvagal Theory confirm: stress puts us in fight, flight, or freeze, making it almost impossible to access wisdom, compassion, or courage. But when we anchor ourselves in simple spiritual practices, we signal safety to our bodies and return to grounded leadership.

Try this: Before you check work email, pause. Read a sacred text, recite a grounding phrase, or hum a melody that soothes you. (Research shows: these practices activate the vagus nerve, restore focus, and even improve executive decision-making. APA & J Occup Health Psych.) You can become your own non-anxious presence: and your team’s anchor in the storm.

What anchors you when anxiety rises? Share your practices below.

We all know that the employee handbook is full of policies: medical leave, bereavement, and parental leave with every benefit spelled out in detail. But what is really happening in today’s economy is that employees are too afraid to use them. The data says it loud: 54% of the workforce is at a breaking point, while “Quiet Cracking” drains $438 billion from global productivity every year. Why? Because there’s a trust gap.

Policy isn’t the same as permission. People are mourning losses, managing illness, welcoming new children: and still afraid that stepping away will make them dispensable.

If your culture whispers, “Don’t be the one who’s out,” your real leave policy is fear. But when you architect not just policy, but true permission: when leaders model, protect, and dignify leave: you build resilience, trust, and a culture where well-being is more than a buzzword. It’s a strategic asset.

You’re back at your desk, your coffee is brewed, and your calendar is ready for a new year. But before you commit to endless meetings and ambitious goals, pause and ask: have you checked the leave policies and mental health benefits offered by your company? Most people plan for promotions, productivity, and pay raises, but almost no one plans for the hard seasons: burnout, grief, family emergencies, or that wilderness in-between when you just need time away to restore your peace.

Your employee handbook and benefits portal hold more than rules; they hold the key to sustaining your wellbeing. Review your mental health coverage, understand the process for taking leaves of absence, and schedule monthly career check-ins with your manager, mentors, and sponsors. You are allowed to rest, regroup, and advocate for yourself before you need it.

Living whole in 2026 starts with knowing your resources: protect your peace as fiercely as you protect your goals.

The first Monday back can feel impossible. Some of us return to overflowing inboxes, trying to care about quarterly goals while the world is at war and the economy shakes beneath our feet. Others wake up to a silence that is even louder: the layoffs are no longer headlines, but lived reality.

The practical move is clear: audit your benefits, know your policies, claim the rest and mental health resources you’ve left untouched. But what is really happening is that both survival and belonging are on the line, and our bodies are carrying tension from so much uncertainty.

Walker-Barnes reminds us: self-care is holy resistance. O’Connor and Menakem teach: your body needs to be settled before you plan your next move. But when we honor our rest, boundaries, and grief as sacred, we honor our dignity beyond paychecks or titles. Even when the world shakes, your worth is unshakeable, your soul is worthy of peace.

A new year of work brings gratitude, hope, and honest uncertainty. If you feel nervous about what's ahead, you’re not alone. Excellence isn’t about perfection: it’s about showing up with purpose, nurturing your gifts, and honoring your assignment even in the unknown.

A prayer for presence as we begin this chapter:

Gracious and good God, who was in the beginning and meets me right here in this moment. You know my heart’s desire to meet this new year with excellence as I offer myself and my skills in a way that honors you. Help me observe this uncertainty while holding the certainty of your presence, listening for your bold, clear guidance, and seeing possibility even when things are blurry. Protect me, grant discernment, and renew my capacity to speak with your heart and think with clarity. Gift me the ability to truly be present, to care for myself, and to steward all you’ve given me well. May I uplift and encourage every colleague and those I lead. May I embody love, redemption, and balance. I pray this with confidence, in your mighty name. Amen.

This morning, you’re returning to work while everything feels shaky beneath you. If your company offers resources, now is the time to review your benefits, FMLA, and policies: use EAP or mental health sessions as needed. Cushion your reentry; support your peace and survival.

In the days ahead, your nervous system will experience change and stress. You’ll be asked to show certainty in a world that celebrates volatility. You’ll carry things you cannot name.

I think of Jesus’s image: a mother hen gathering her chicks. This isn’t about escaping all threats: real protection is knowing you are held by a power not tied to your productivity.

There will be moments you must gather yourself and show yourself compassion: this isn’t self-indulgent, it’s essential. Regulate your body so you can discern and decide. Imagination and rest keep you human when the world sees you as a resource.

Embrace your dignity: it outlasts any title or strategy. Settle your body, then focus on Q1. First things first. Breathe. Read Luke 13:34 (or your inspiration). Pray. Then open your eyes to 2026.

THE EVERYDAY GRIEF PODCAST IS LIVE

Episode 1: "I Am Not My Job — Grieving Career & Identity Loss"
Inspired by 's soul-stirring "I Am Not My Hair," this episode explores identity beyond titles — a journey I walked when my own professional role shifted beneath my feet.

When we lose more than a job, we often grieve in silence:
* The disorientation of identity unmoored
* The questioning of our value
* The wondering if this is failure or divine redirection

This podcast creates space for the grief that comes with life's transitions — honoring our losses while making room for healing, light, and even gentle laughter.

Listen now on Apple Podcasts, Spotify, or Buzzsprout (link in bio)

Next episode: For leaders carrying organizational transitions while holding space for everyone else.
Tell me: What resonated with you? What conversations would nurture your journey?

Remember to nurture your inner light.