Over the last two weeks, I’ve been on an emotional rollercoaster.
I’ve felt excited, joyful, creative, full of wonder and bliss, free, energetic, proud, alive, and in awe—and also frightened, shocked, anxious, worried, angry, devastated, helpless, overwhelmed, exhausted, withdrawn, and stressed. Sometimes all at once.
The day after Human Leadership hit shelves, my dad was in a bike accident. With his permission, I want to share with you the story of what happened and what these two weeks have taught me about human leadership.
My dad has always loved to bike. My parents live on a beach on the east coast of Florida—in the same house where I grew up—and for as long as I can remember, my dad has loved going for bike rides. He has two bikes: One that allows him to bike on the sand just feet away from the ocean, and a mountain bike that he uses on the breathtaking nature trails surrounding my parents’ home.
On this particular day, I FaceTimed my parents to say hi and check in. I was surprised to see that my dad had his helmet on and was getting ready to take his mountain bike for a ride on a nearby trail. I’ll admit, I don’t love the idea of my 78-year-old dad going for bike rides, and I’m not afraid to tell him that. But I also love that he’s still so active and continues to do what makes him happy.
His bike ride went great, but things took a turn when he got back to the house. As he dismounted, he lost his balance and fell hard on his left arm, which he’d used to catch himself and protect the rest of his body and his head. He immediately knew that something was terribly wrong, so he used his free hand to pull his phone out of his pocket and call 911. Minutes later, he was in an ambulance headed to the emergency room with my mom following behind him, everyone unsure of the extent of his injuries.
Luckily, the worst of the damage was in my dad’s shoulder and arm. He completely shattered his humerus, and it took 25 screws to put the bone back together. I say “luckily” because it could have been so much worse. Thank goodness he was wearing his helmet.
As my dad says, he has permission to “screw” up. (Even through it all, he still has his awesome sense of humor!)
I didn’t find out about the accident until a day later. That’s because it happened right before the book-launch party in Houston, and my parents knew that 70+ people would be celebrating with me that night. They decided to wait to tell me until the next morning when they knew more about his injuries and surgery plan. Thankfully, my sister was able to hop on a plane to be with them right away.
After three days in the hospital, my dad was discharged. My incredible mom and sister helped him and kept him comfortable while I became the contact person for all of his doctors and worked from afar to arrange healthcare aides to support us in navigating these critical weeks of rehabilitation and care. A few days later, I flew home to be with my family, which is where I am as I write this blog post (sitting next to my dad, actually!).
We are so thankful that my dad is feeling better each day. He has a long road ahead of him, but if you know my dad, you know that he has the most inspiring mindset and that he approaches any challenge with optimism and resilience. I’ll be making several trips home in the coming months, and we are totally rallying together as a family to make lemonade out of lemons because that’s what the Hadeed family does! (And in case you were wondering, my dad has promised to retire his bike.)
I wanted to share all of this with you because I think it’s so deeply human to feel the highest of highs alongside the lowest of lows.
This terrible accident happened right in the middle of one of the most exciting times in my life: just days after I ran a half-marathon, announced my pregnancy, and launched my second book into the world. On the morning I learned that Human Leadership was a bestseller, I was woken up by a FaceTime call from Monique, who couldn't wait to share the news. When we hung up, I cried tears of shock and amazement. A few hours later, I was on a plane heading to my parents’ house, and as we took off, I cried for my dad, knowing that nothing in the world mattered more than him being okay.
We can’t stop sad, overwhelming, and scary things from happening, no matter how much we might want to. But we can allow ourselves the privilege of being human through it all, which means embracing the “and” that comes with conflicting emotions and giving ourselves permission to feel everything.
We can also choose how we show up for people when they have human moments of their own.
In our team meeting last week, we reflected on how grateful we are for our culture of support and empathy. Our culture is one where we are each encouraged to talk about what’s happening in our lives outside of work. We believe that it’s all intertwined: As a human, you can’t “turn off” what’s happening in your life, especially when it’s something overwhelming. It’s coming with you everywhere you go, including work.
My team has been my safe space over these past two weeks. I’ve been able to share all of the highs and lows, and instead of being met with advice or solutions about how to change my mindset, they’ve made me feel seen and heard by validating my emotions. So while it seems like I’ve had nearly every feeling under the sun over the past 14 days, throughout it all, I’ve also felt a constant undercurrent of gratitude, peace, and love. That’s the thing: In cultures where empathy is a practice, you have permission to feel what you feel when you feel it. My team and I reflected on how hard we’ve worked to cultivate that space and how it exists for all of us. Anytime any of us is going through something, we know we’ll have a supportive space to talk about it.
To me, this is what human leadership is all about. Life is amazing and it’s hard, and at the end of the day, all we have is ourselves and each other. That’s all that really matters, isn’t it?
Thanks for being a safe space where I can share all of this with you. I hope that by doing so, I’m giving you permission to embrace the privilege of your own humanity.
And before I sign off, there’s one thing that my dad wants you to know: There’s nothing stronger than family or community.
Big hugs,
Kristen
(PS: If you want to give yourself more permission to be human and haven’t read the book yet, you can order it here.)
(PPS: If you are ready to take your human leadership journey further in your life and your work, check out our new resources here.)
