Behind the Blame: Story and Reflection

In medicine and academic leadership, change is constant. But the kind we choose feels different than the kind we don’t. Lately, I’ve found myself thinking about what lies beneath the surface when frustration rises. Sometimes what looks like resistance or blame turns out to be something else entirely.

A while back, I reached out to a respected colleague I’d long admired. Someone known for steady encouragement, positivity, and grace under pressure. But something had shifted. Their tone had turned sharp. They were bitter, frustrated, and increasingly blaming others in a way that didn’t feel like them.

We were both involved in a shared project that required collaboration across teams, and I sensed the resistance wasn’t just about strategy or workflow. So, I invited a conversation.

What unfolded was powerful—not because I offered insight, but because they found the language themselves.

As they talked, what emerged wasn’t just frustration. They were able to recognize it as grief.

They missed how things used to be. Not out of nostalgia, but because the older ways of working had been effective and rooted in a clear sense of purpose. Some of the values that once guided those approaches now seemed absent, deprioritized, or replaced by the powers that be. While my colleague still had insight to offer and a desire to contribute, the most painful part wasn’t the loss of influence. It was the sense that the work had drifted away from its deeper mission.

Recognizing it and naming it as loss, shifted things.

Once they identified it as grief, everything softened. They stopped trying to resist reality and started making peace with what had already moved on. It didn’t make everything feel fine. But it made space for clarity, honesty, and a different way of showing up. As Edith Egar puts it, going from "Why Me?" or "Why This?" to "What Now?"

Reflection Prompt

Is there a part of you still holding onto what used to be? What might shift if you named the loss it for what it is?