Episode #361 – Feeling lonely at the top?

This is episode 361 of the Brilliant Balance podcast, titled Lonely at the Top? I’m going to venture a guess that if you pressed play on today’s episode, this is a sentiment that resonates with you—that in some way, shape, or form, you have experienced the feeling of loneliness that’s so closely connected to, and inherent in, the stage of life where you’ve risen to a position of leadership.

Maybe it has “thinned the air” a bit, right? Thinned the crowd around you in terms of having a peer group. I want to give you some context about why I picked this topic for today’s episode, and to do that, we need to go back a bit for a history lesson.

When I first graduated from college, I thought I was going to start my professional life in New York City. I went to Cornell, which is in upstate New York, and many of the students ended up starting their careers in New York City. I mean, one, it’s a giant city; two, it’s the closest metropolitan area to the university. So it just made sense for people, whether they were finishing degrees in law, medicine, business, or engineering. There was so much opportunity in New York, and I was really excited when I finished my internship at P&G, and they offered me a full-time job. Even better, I was thrilled that the job was going to be in New York.

That happened right before my senior year, so I went into my senior year knowing I had the offer. But at some point along the way, the role I’d been hired to fill was eliminated. There was some kind of reorganization or shuffle, and they no longer had that job in New York.

I got a call from them—they were great about it—and they said, “Don’t panic, we still have a role for you.” But it was in Dallas, Tampa, or Atlanta—three cities where I knew zero people. So, my whole vision of moving to New York with my friends and starting our careers together evaporated. I started to ask myself how badly I wanted to work for P&G. Would it be better to get a different job in New York? Or should I really consider one of these other cities? After a lot of hand-wringing, I picked Atlanta.

When I say I knew no one when I moved there, I mean literally zero people. My mom had a cousin who lived in a suburb of Atlanta who I had met a handful of times in my life. My mom also had a friend with a daughter my age, but I had never met her. She turned out to be lovely when we eventually met, but I had no existing social structure in Atlanta.

So I moved there, sight unseen, and worse yet, I was working out of my apartment. Remember, this was not modern times when everyone works from home—it was 1995. We had dial-up internet, and no one I knew worked from home. All my friends went to the office. I had no roommate, and I worked out of my apartment. So, the recipe for loneliness was pretty much set.

Except P&G did this beautiful thing: they established women’s networks. In the Southeast region where I was living and working, they had the Southeast Women’s Network, which they called SEWN. We even had swag with SEWN on it.

The Southeast Women’s Network included women from locations in Florida, Charlotte, Atlanta, and as far west as Birmingham, Alabama, maybe even Tennessee. We would periodically get together for conferences and meetings at various hotels. There was also a sales office in Atlanta, which we didn’t work out of but could use. Most of the women connected to that office were in sales or HR roles, and I got to know them through SEWN. We’d go out for Mexican food and margaritas on Friday nights or brunch on Saturdays, which created a bit of community for me in a city where I otherwise wouldn’t have had any.

When I moved to Cincinnati with P&G, the company’s corporate headquarters was a massive community. As young leaders in a company that large, the peer group was enormous. Again, there was a formal structure for social and training events, and I had a strong peer group within sales and marketing. But the higher up you go in a big company, the fewer people there are living a life similar to yours—the traditional pyramid narrows. There are fewer people at your level and fewer with similar life experiences. At some point, I noticed fewer women, fewer people starting families or who were married, and the group got smaller as I moved up the ladder.

Then I left the corporate nest and started my own company. It was just me, myself, and I—a solo entrepreneur for the early years. Talk about lonely! I sought out communities of other entrepreneurs and joined local groups in Cincinnati. As I built my team, I loved having people to talk to—thought partners to collaborate with—but as the owner of the company, everyone ultimately looked to me for answers. There was no one above me to consult with, and no one truly next to me as a peer. I missed having mentors and, honestly, some days I even missed having a boss.

Over the years, I’ve been a part of various groups—training programs that included peer communities. To this day, I’m part of a group where I have both peers and strategists who bring broader experience and perspective to help guide me. That connection with others playing the same game has been crucial for me.

Meanwhile, my peers who stayed in corporate jobs have climbed the ranks and are now in pretty rarefied air. The conversations I have with them reveal that they’re not quite sure what to do about the growing isolation. It’s not great to feel isolated, but it’s the reality. If you’re a woman running a company or leading a team, it’s less likely that you’ll find people who really understand your day-to-day life.

So, why is that? In this episode, I want to unpack why this dynamic exists and what we can do about it.

The first point is that there are simply fewer peers to relate to as you rise in an organization. Whether you’re an owner or a senior leader in a corporate structure, there are just fewer people who truly understand the unique challenges and pressures of leadership. Secondly, the expectations at this level are extremely high. The decisions you make are bigger and have a ripple effect on others, making the pressure to get it right intense. This can lead to a reluctance to show vulnerability or ask for help.

This can create a cycle of self-imposed isolation. We become hyper-independent, trying to handle everything ourselves to protect others, but that only deepens the loneliness. Coupled with a fear of judgment and a lack of time to invest in relationships, it becomes a reinforcing cycle.

Ultimately, I encourage you to find your people. Don’t let the challenges of leadership stop you from seeking connection. Whether it’s my community or another, find a place where you can plug in and find support. Feeling seen and understood doesn’t stop being important as you become more successful—it arguably becomes even more so.

That’s all for today, my friends. Until next time, let’s be brilliant.