#14. The weight and the mask

Last week broke something open in me. I had to go through the very painful process of letting go of eleven team members, eleven people I hired, nurtured, and believed in. It felt like cutting pieces of myself away. These weren’t just employees. They were top talent, part of the DNA of what we built. And yet, with the acquisition, this was the path we had to take.

Despite the heartbreak, I’m at peace with how we handled it. We did it with care. With dignity. Every single one of them leaves with a strong severance and the respect they deserve. But still, the sadness sat heavy on my chest all week.

Then going through the week, three social events, full makeup, a polished outfit, and a public smile. I showed up because I had to. Because part of this journey is still unfolding in front of me, and showing up is also part of the job. I posted on social media not out of vanity, but almost as a quiet thank-you to those who invited me, a way to honor partnerships and keep the wheels turning.

And yet, part of me worried; what if someone from my team sees this and feels betrayed? Sees joy in my feed and wonders how it coexists with grief?

That’s the paradox. As a leader, you often hold two truths at once. You mourn and move. You crumble quietly and compose outwardly. You cry in private, then step into a room and lead with your head held high.

It reminded me of when my sister passed two years ago in Venezuela. I couldn’t be there. I had to stay here, keep building, and keep holding things together. I was shattered inside, and no one could see it. And I did it. With grace, with grit, with a smile that masked the storm.

It also reminded me of another moment a few years ago, when I was pregnant with Luca. I still remember sitting in the doctor’s office, being told after my 12-week scan that he might be born with Down syndrome, and I had to think of my options. It was my last chance at becoming a mother again. I felt like the ground had dropped out from under me. There was so much fear, so many unknowns. And just two hours later, I had to step on stage and lead a Women’s Day panel for the incredible women on my team.

I was crumbling inside, but I composed myself. I showed up. And I did it with grace.

(And if you’re wondering, everything resolved in the end. Luca came into this world healthy. And he’s one of my greatest joys.)

Sometimes I wonder if this is the quiet tax of leadership, that we carry grief and joy side by side. That social media only ever tells half the story. That strength can look like sparkle on the outside while hiding tears underneath.

Note to those who were part of this moment:

If you’re reading this and were directly impacted, please know this was written with deep care and respect.

This journal is not about moving on quickly or glossing over what happened.

It’s my way of processing the weight of it all and honoring the truth that leadership often asks us to carry multiple emotions at once.

I will always be grateful for what we built together and for you.

What are the two truths you’ve had to hold at the same time, and what did they teach you about yourself?

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