Hi friend,

Last week, I invited you to notice where you might be over-functioning.
This week, I want to share what that looked like in my own leadership—and how it undermined everything I thought I was doing right.

For most of my career, I believed that leadership meant being set apart.
You had to show up first, leave last, and always keep a certain distance.
Do perfect work. Don't make mistakes. Don’t talk about your personal life.

In practice, this looked like:

• Arriving at the office an hour early
• Rewriting other people’s work to make it “right”
• Spending hours polishing board reports so they couldn’t be questioned
• Building what I now call a moat around myself—to keep people from seeing how unsure I actually was

I thought if I just worked harder, polished everything more, and stayed ahead of every possible mistake, I could avoid being questioned—or worse, exposed as not being capable.

And it worked… until it didn’t.

I became an executive director of a nonprofit before I turned 30. I hit the goal!
But I also hit burnout.
And no one could see it—because that moat I so meticulously dug kept everyone distant enough from my real emotions.

Then a board member—someone brave enough to call me in—took me to lunch.
They told me that I was the reason the board wasn’t engaging.
That my reports were too perfect. Too finished. There was no room left for feedback or connection. I had done the work alone, and left no room for others to step in.

It stung. Bad.
It was the first time I really saw that maybe my leadership approach wasn't as effective as I thought it was.

That moment hurt. But it also shifted something in me that’s never shifted back.

It's when I first understood that effective leadership requires sharing the work.

Where it started

Like many of us, my leadership patterns started early.
Growing up, straight A’s were the baseline. Perfection wasn’t praised—it was expected.
​I internalized that getting it right was more important than connecting with others.​
And I was rewarded again and again for outcomes, never for how I got there.

That belief got reinforced early in my career.
I once worked on a team where a peer—a fellow leader—was reprimanded for attending the baby shower of one of her “subordinates.” (Not language I’d normally use, but the word they used.) The message was clear: closeness was inappropriate.

I took that to heart. I stopped sharing anything personal. I kept my head down, focused on getting everything “right,” and never let anyone see me hesitate. My goal wasn’t connection—it was perfection.

But I was tired all the time. Not just physically—but mentally, emotionally, spiritually. I didn’t feel like I could stop, and I definitely didn’t feel like I could ask for help. I had built the kind of leadership people admired, but it felt like a trap.

I was constantly anxious I was missing something. I lived in a low simmer of overwhelm, but because everything looked polished on the outside, no one thought to check in. I didn’t even check in with myself.

What I know now

Giving the work back is a core part of good leadership.
It’s not just about self-preservation (though that matters too—self-care isn’t just massages, despite what the internet might say).

It’s about recognizing that challenges rarely belong to one person. And if we try to hold them alone, we cut off the very relationships and systems that could help solve them.

Leadership is collective.

If we don’t share the work, we risk misdiagnosing the problem. We solve for symptoms.
And we lose the chance to ask: are we even in the right forest before we start cutting down trees?

Perfectionism has a cost.
It costs your well-being. It costs your team’s sense of ownership. And it costs your ability to lead adaptively.

What you model becomes the culture.

And I want to model something else.

I’m always curious how these stories land. If you’re navigating your own shift in leadership, reply and tell me about it. I’d love to learn with you.

🌀 Ready to put this into practice?

Here's a prompt to explore in your own leadership journey:

What’s one leadership habit or belief you’re still carrying that no longer serves you?

In a world that rewards over-functioning, it can feel risky to step back.
But making space is a powerful leadership move.

If this is difficult to do, ask a trusted friend or colleague what patterns have they noticed that are no longer serving you.

I am forever grateful to the board member that helped illuminate mine.

​

Warmly, Ashley Mudd I write about leadership as a practice, and work with people and teams trying to do good work in sustainable ways. If you’re curious about working together—or just want to say hi—hit reply or visit ashleymudd.com. You can unsubscribe anytime. No hard feelings.