LEADERSHIP SANDTRAP: RIGHTEOUS RESIGNATION

There’s a particular place I find myself landing from time to time — and I’ve watched a lot of other leaders end up here too.

It’s a kind of leadership quicksand. And it doesn’t feel like defeat. It feels righteous. It feels like clarity. It even feels like leadership.

I’m talking about righteous resignation.

This is the moment where, as a leader, I stop creating and start blaming. Not obviously. Not even consciously. But I start quietly letting go of my part in what’s happening — and begin placing all of the weight of change squarely on someone else’s shoulders.

It sounds like this:

• “I’ve given them everything they need. I’ve held space. I’ve told them the truth. If they’re not willing to step in, that’s not on me.”

This is a very comfortable place for me to sit, because it lets me off the hook. It means that I don’t have to keep generating, because the bottom line of the story is “There’s nothing more you can do Adam.”

The tricky part about this state is that it feels responsible. It feels a little bit like integrity.

It certainly doesn’t feel like I’ve given up — it feels more like I’m holding a boundary.

But I’m not really drawing a line for anything — I’m just quietly stepping away.

Because I’ve got good reasons and evidence, I can tell a very convincing story about why this person isn’t a fit, or why they’re not ready, or why they’re wasting my time.

And all of that keeps the spotlight off of me, and saves me from taking a look at who I am being that is creating this dynamic with the person over there.

If I was really willing to turn inward and ask what else is possible, what else I could try, who else I could be — then I’d have to let go of being right. I’d have to let go of feeling justified.

The experience of righteous resignation doesn’t always show up as explosive or dramatic. For me, it often shows up as a kind of internal shrug. A subtle apathy. Less inspiration, less energy. And eventually, a search for stimulation — something or someone else to light the fire, because I’ve stopped generating.

And that’s when I know I’m off course.

Because transformational leadership isn’t reactive. It’s generative.

It asks me, again and again, to look in the one direction that’s always available: inward.

To ask:

Given how they are showing up… what is this revealing about how I am being?

What if this isn’t a problem to solve, but a mirror to see myself more clearly?

What’s the way of being I haven’t yet stepped into that might change everything?

I don’t ask myself these questions from a sort of gluttony for punishment or unwillingness to accept where things are at. I ask these questions because I’m committed to using the feedback the world around me provides to deepen my own leadership.

When I return to these questions, I start to remember that my power doesn’t come from having the right answers — it comes from being willing to create again.

That’s not easy. But it is transformative.

So if you notice that subtle feeling of “whatever” starting to creep in…

Don’t make yourself wrong.

Just take a breath.

And ask:

What might be possible if I chose to generate again?

That’s the practice leaders need to engage in.

Every day.