The Cost Of Real Alignment: Why Letting Go Is The Leadership Skill We Don't Talk About

Forbes

17-07-2025

Alignment sounds beautiful. Until it asks you to let something go.
And not something toxic. Not a mistake or an outdated belief. But something you love. Something you've invested in. Something you've been told you should want. Something that once served you well.
That's the inconvenient truth about real congruence: it requires sacrifice.
And for high-achieving leaders who pride themselves on clarity, strategy, and success, that truth can be hard to face - let alone act on.
Alignment sounds beautiful. Until it asks you to let something go.Alignment Isn't About Saying Yes. It's About Enlightened No's.
In our culture of optimization and overload, alignment gets talked about like it's a state of flow or a productivity hack. But real alignment is a filter. And like any filter worth using, it's defined not by what it lets in, but by what it keeps out.
A value isn't a value if it costs you nothing. A priority isn't a priority if everything gets in line. And alignment isn't alignment if it doesn't require you to say no.
No to the good-for-someone-else opportunity. No to the shiny object. No to the identity that no longer fits.
Because when you're truly aligned, you stop chasing what works in general—and start choosing what works for you.The Grief of Letting Go
Several years ago, I made a decision that changed everything. I closed the company I had built and led for a decade.
It wasn't a failed startup. We had impact, recognition, paying clients, and investor support. The programs were timely. The approach was bold. I was invited to founder meetups, B Corp gatherings, and CEO fellowships. I was in it, and it was in me.
But here's the part I hadn't been honest about: I was great at parts of it, but exhausted by others. I loved the mission. I loved our clients. But the operational realities of being a CEO (managing team dynamics, financial modeling, board meetings, budgeting) weren't aligned with my actual gifts, energy, or lifestyle.
Being a CEO wasn't my highest and best use. I had spent so long proving I could do it that I hadn't ... More stopped to ask if I should.Even naming that misalignment took years. I had spent so long proving I could do it that I hadn't stopped to ask if I should.
And when I finally did, the truth was humbling: Being a CEO wasn't my highest and best use. It wasn't my fullest expression of leadership. It wasn't mine anymore, if it ever had been.It Took Time (And Grief)
From the first whisper of that insight to the day I closed the company, nearly two years passed. Not because I was indecisive, but because letting go of an identity that once fit is grieving.
There's no offboarding form for that. No standard operating procedure for unraveling your own narrative.
Even after the logistics were complete - contracts ended, bank accounts closed, team notified - I had to sit with the discomfort of absence. The absence of a title. Of a rhythm. Of a familiar story I'd been telling about who I was and why I mattered.
But grief turned into mourning.
Mourning made space for reflection.
And reflection became growth.
Recognizing the grief of letting go of my company allowed for growth to follow.The New Alignment? It Feels Like Breathing.
Today, I'm more aligned than ever.
I'm not managing a team. I'm not updating investor decks. I'm not pretending that financial projections energize me.
Instead, I'm writing, speaking, coaching leaders, and facilitating equine-assisted leadership work that pulls wisdom not from spreadsheets, but from nature. I'm in the saddle a few times a week - not as a luxuriant hobby, but because it keeps me grounded, present, and creative.
At first, I told myself that wasn't 'real' work. Now I know it's the most real thing I do.
Because the insights I gain in those quiet, wordless spaces - the insights I then metabolize and bring into keynotes, client sessions, and research - are what help other leaders become more human, more effective, and more whole.
That's my true alignment. That's my Missing 1%.Discomfort Isn't Always a Red Flag. Sometimes, It's a Door.
Here's what I've learned, and what I share with every leader I coach:
You can't make that distinction unless you slow down enough to feel the difference.
That's why body awareness matters. That's why I teach leaders to tune into their physical intuition, not just performance data or quarterly OKRs. Because the body often knows before the brain admits it.Alignment Is a Luxury, and a Responsibility
Let's be clear: not everyone can afford to walk away from a role or rewrite their career narrative. That's real.
But many senior leaders can. And don't. They stay out of habit. Out of identity. Out of loyalty to a version of themselves that no longer exists.
And that quiet dissonance? It's costly.
Because energy spent on misaligned tasks isn't neutral. It drains. It distracts. It diminishes. If you're in a position of power, leadership, or privilege, then you owe it to yourself (and your team) to lead from your most congruent place.Try This: The One-Thing Filter
If this resonates, start simple. Ask yourself:
Maybe it's a client whose values don't align with yours. A meeting you dread that could be delegated or dropped. A leadership responsibility you've outgrown.
You don't have to burn it all down. But you do have to clear space.
Because if your alignment doesn't cost you anything, it's probably not real.
And if your leadership isn't filtered, it's probably not yours.What's Yours to Keep - and What's Yours to Release?
Congruent leadership isn't a buzzword. It's an act of courage.
It means telling the truth about who you are now, not just who you've been.
It means sacrificing what's 'almost right' to make room for what's actually aligned.
And it means trusting that the space you clear will be filled, not with noise or pressure, but with presence. So:
Curious where your leadership might be delivering diminishing returns? This 3-minute diagnostic reveals simple shifts that can unlock deeper fulfillment—without doing more.
Trust that the space you clear will be filled, not with noise or pressure, but with presence.