Every resignation carries two stories. The one belonging to the person who left. And the one left behind with the person who stays.
We don't often hold both at the same time. We tend to land on one side, either defending the decision to go, or managing the impact of the gap. But the most useful thing you can do when someone walks out the door is resist that pull. And ask what each story is actually telling you.
Last week I wrote about the courage it takes to say maybe — to resist performed certainty and stay present with what's true. Inflection points don't stop arriving once you reach the top of an organisation. Sometimes they arrive in the shape of a resignation letter.
The story of the person who left
A decade is a long time to give to any organisation. And people don't walk away from that lightly.
Something had shifted in them, in the role, in what they needed next. Maybe they had outgrown it. Maybe an opportunity arrived that the business simply couldn't match. Maybe life had changed in ways that made flexibility non-negotiable. Or maybe, and this is the one that's hardest to say out loud, it just didn't feel right anymore. The leadership style didn't land. The values didn't quite hold. The shape of the role no longer fit the shape of the person inside it.
There's something worth naming here. You don't need a crisis to realign. Sometimes the most courageous thing a person can do is acknowledge that what once worked no longer does and give themselves permission to build something that actually fits. Not just something that looks right from the outside.
That kind of clarity takes courage. The kind that doesn't get celebrated in the moment but tends to matter enormously in retrospect.
The story of the person who stayed
A CEO called me recently. His right-hand person, someone who had been beside him for over a decade, had just resigned.
The first five minutes of our call, I could hear it. His voice was low. That specific kind of tired that isn't about sleep.
I didn't rush past it.
Here's what I know about resignations at the most senior level: they are lonely in a way that's hard to articulate. When your right-hand person walks out the door, you lose more than a function. You lose a shared language. A history. Someone who knew the context without needing it explained. And you're expected as the most senior person in the room to absorb that quietly and keep moving.
But this CEO did something different. He made a call.
Not to be rescued. Not to have someone solve it for him. But to think out loud with someone who wasn't inside the situation. And as he talked through what came next, a promising leader already inside the business, someone who had been quietly building capability alongside the departing GM, something shifted. By the time we wrapped up, almost an hour later, he sounded buoyant.
Nothing about his circumstances had changed. The resignation was still real. The gap was still there. But he had moved from absorbing the loss to seeing the inflection point inside it.
What resignations are really telling you
Resignations are inevitable. No matter how good your culture is. No matter how strong your leadership team is. People will leave. Some will outgrow the role. Some will get opportunities your business simply can't compete with. Some will leave because life changed, priorities shifted.
And sometimes it's simpler than that. The leadership style doesn't fit. The values don't land. It just doesn't feel right anymore.
The hard truth is you won't always be able to meet everyone's expectations. And you shouldn't have to try to.
What matters is not whether people leave. They will. What matters is what you make of it when they do. Whether you treat the departure as a failure or as a signal. A signal of growth, of misalignment, of change. For the individual and for the business.
The goal isn't zero turnover. The goal is to understand it. To learn from it. To handle it well. And to make sure the people who stay are there for the right reasons.
Because retention at all costs isn't leadership. It's avoidance wearing a different coat.
What if the pause is the decision?
Most people assume a crossroads demands speed. That hesitation is weakness. That the pressure is on you, alone, to have the answer immediately.
This CEO is the most senior person in his organisation. The one others look to. The one expected to set the tone without flinching. And he picked up the phone.
Not because he lacked judgment. By the end of the call, it was clear the thinking was already there. But he needed a thinking partner while he found his way back to it.
That, to me, is what it looks like to find the inflection point inside a difficult moment. Not rushing past the difficulty. Not performing your way through it. Staying present inside it long enough to see what it's carrying.
Both people in this story did that. One found the courage to leave. The other found the courage to pause.
Neither of those things is small.
If you're navigating a moment where the ground has shifted, a departure, a restructure, a role that no longer fits the leader you've become, I'd love to be that thinking partner.
The first conversation costs nothing. It might change everything.
Email here to set a time: [email protected]
Till next week,
Mary
ICF Certified Coach · Author, Burn Bright Not Out · HR Director