Bringing Yourself to Work
Wow, this is so much more tiring than programming…
If you’ve ever ended a day emotionally drained after a string of 1:1s, tough conversations, or carrying the weight of your team, you’re not alone.
For managers, it’s not the work itself. It’s how much of yourself the job asks you to bring.
That’s not something many people tell you about when you first step into leadership.
It’s Not Only Technical Anymore
As a manager, you’re still dealing with all the usual complexity: architecture, deadlines, strategy. Layered on top of that is a whole other dimension. People.
When things are good, it’s deeply rewarding. When things are rough, it gets overwhelming.
Picture this:
- You’re leading a high-stakes project that’s behind schedule.
- Bob is frustrated about a disappointing raise, and you had no control over it.
- Susan confides that her partner is ill.
- Jack’s underperforming but doesn’t see it, and resists feedback.
- Morale is low after a recent round of layoffs.
- On top of all that, you’re carrying your own personal challenges, expectations from leadership, and pressure from every direction.
In moments like these, the natural question becomes:
How much am I supposed to carry?
How much should I care when I’m barely keeping it together myself?
It’s Your Job to Care
It’s not about delivery. As a manager, your job is to care.
You’re the confidante, the coach, the sounding board. The one who steadies the ship when everything feels uncertain. That doesn’t mean you have to be perfect or stoic. It does mean you have to be present, and human.
If you’re considering becoming a manager, this is the part that rarely makes it into job descriptions. It’s about showing up for your people in a deeply human way.
Yes, it’s emotional. And yes, it’s exhausting at times. It’s also where the best of leadership happens.
What Does “Bringing Your Whole Self” Mean?
We hear this phrase a lot: bring your whole self to work. But what does that look like in practice?
Here’s how I interpret it.
It means showing your true emotions, not only the polished, “professional” ones. Frustration, sadness, excitement, even silliness. All of those are human, and suppressing them under a facade of professionalism limits your ability to build trust.
It also means being open about your weaknesses. Not pretending to be perfect. Not acting like you have it all figured out. Real leadership starts with vulnerability, and it gives your team permission to do the same.
An environment where people can be themselves, flaws and all, is one where they’re most likely to thrive.
Trust Enables Performance
The emotional effort of showing up, caring deeply, and building trust is worth it, because trust is what enables high performance.
In an environment of trust:
- People feel safe admitting mistakes.
- Conversations about performance don’t feel like personal attacks.
- Feedback flows freely, up, down, and sideways.
- Collaboration gets easier.
- Growth accelerates.
Without trust, feedback gets buried. Tensions linger. Problems fester.
With trust, hard conversations become part of how we get better, together.
Practice Talking About Weaknesses
Here’s something I’ve tried in 1:1s that builds trust fast:
Go first. Share your own weaknesses. Then invite your direct report to share theirs.
A few of mine:
- Technical atrophy: Since stepping fully into leadership, I worry that my technical skills are becoming obsolete. Tooling has changed, and I sometimes wonder what happens if I ever want, or need, to return to hands-on work.
- Speed over consensus: I jump to solutions quickly. It helps move things forward, but I sometimes step on toes or move too fast for others to feel included.
- Blind spots in detail: I value momentum so highly that I occasionally miss key details, like forgetting someone in a team thank-you message (yes, again). It’s embarrassing, but real.
Sharing like this, openly and without defensiveness, creates a space for growth. It models humility and invites collaboration.
Support Groups Matter
Leadership is lonely. The further up the org chart you go, the fewer peers you have who understand what you’re carrying. That isolation gets heavy.
As an IC, I had a team. As a manager-of-managers, I still have a team, but fewer peers to vent with, swap ideas with, or be human with. We all need that space.
If you don’t have it yet, find it. A peer circle, a mentor, a community. The work is too important, and too personal, to carry alone.