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When leadership comes at a personal cost: A lesson from a rooftop in Hong Kong

By Barry Joinson

By Barry Joinson, Windsor Leadership Facilitator

For more than 25 years, Barry has been a sounding-board and strategic thinking partner to people from many cultures and organisations across Europe, the UAE, Asia and the USA.

His raison d’être is shining a light on possibility for those facing complex situations. His clients have included the BBC, Porsche, Bank of China and the United Nations on assignments ranging from trouble shooting in start-ups, strategic facilitation in $100m global transformation programmes and coaching NGO leaders in war-torn countries, at war within their own ranks.

A Professional Certified Coach with the International Coaching Federation, Barry is a trainer on an internationally respected ICF accredited programme and supervisor of coaches in professional practice. He is a postgraduate member of the Chartered Institute of Personnel and Development, a mediator and psychotherapist for leaders.

When leadership comes at a personal cost: A lesson from a rooftop in Hong Kong

I never thought I’d lose my marriage to being a great leader. But I did. And I’m sharing this because I know others are walking the same tightrope, right now.

It started with showing up early and staying late, and always being there when my team needed support, coaching, strategy, or someone to absorb their stress. Irrespective of the time of night or how far I was into my annual leave, it felt noble, and it felt right. It was, after all, what I thought it took to be a great leader instead of a good one.

Underneath the surface, however, something was breaking. Not at work, but at home. My real family, the one I loved most, was falling apart while I worked overtime to keep my work family together. 

It was the price of misplaced loyalty, and I didn’t see it until it was too late. 

When boundaries disappear

The lines started to blur slowly. One missed supper became a dozen as one late-night email turned into hundreds. My partner stopped waiting up and my sister and Mum stopped expecting me to break bread with them on Sunday.

But at work, I was winning. People smiled when I walked in. My team was performing. Projects moved. Promotions came. There was always just one more thing to do, one more fire to put out or one more quick meeting. And slowly, beyond my awareness, my identity began to merge with my role.

The problem? My ego was being constantly topped up. When life felt uncertain, work was safe. And when I felt lost, leadership gave me purpose. When my partner was watching TV in the evening, the buzz of a DM, text or email provided intoxicating company compared to the monotony of the quiz show droning in the background.

I told myself I was doing it for them, that providing was how I proved my love. The stark reality is I was disappearing from the people who needed me most whilst kidding myself of the contrary.

The rooftop and the note

On the night it all cracked open I was in Hong Kong on business, sitting in the corner of a rooftop cocktail bar, sky glowing, harbour lights shimmering.

It should have been magical, people around me were laughing, sipping drinks, snapping selfies. I had just wrapped a client dinner that went perfectly, smiles all around and high fives. "You're a natural at this," the China GM said.

But as I sat there, glass in hand, looking out over the city, I had never felt more alone. I called home on the walk back to the hotel. No answer. So, I bedded down in the knowledge something had to change, and that I needed to have an honest conversation about giving up the pressure of the job when I got home.

With the flight delayed, I finally landed in the early hours of the morning and stumbled to the front door at breakfast time. I unlocked and went in, expecting the glow of the early morning TV and someone rustling in the kitchen.

Instead, I was greeted by silence. No laughter, no radio. Just the cats meowing like they hadn't been fed in days, and a note that simply said, “I don’t want to do this anymore.”

I stood there, staring at the walls I had worked so hard to pay for. All that ambition and effort. And the person I loved, I’d planned retirement with, the one I trusted my life with, was gone.

In the days and weeks that followed, I was angry. But not at home, at work. I was angry at the system that normalised overwork and at my boss for modelling the same behaviour and expecting me and others to collude with it. I was furious at the unspoken contract that said, “To matter here, you must sacrifice everything else.” And I realise now that I picked a fight with her out of grief, out of rage. 

She won, and I was again rejected. Because I was too tired to fight and too broken to perform. And honestly, the fight wasn’t hers to win or lose. It was mine to own, because I’d aligned my identity so tightly with work, that when it crumbled, I crumbled with it.

What’s leading you right now?

To be clear, this story isn’t about losing. It’s about boundaries, and what happens when you don’t have any. I used to think leadership was about giving your all. Now I know it’s about knowing what not to give.

While it’s important to have emotional intelligence at work, it can’t be your emotional home. Leadership can’t be your life raft, and your job can’t carry the weight of your self-worth, because when you pour everything into work, the river dries further upstream.

My invitation is to resist seeing boundaries as impervious walls, rather as agreed signposts. They’re not there to keep people out - they show you and others where you are. They create clarity, safety, and trust, letting everyone move with purpose instead of drifting in ambiguity with things left unsaid or unchallenged.

Being a leader no longer means being everything to everyone. Instead, I believe it means knowing what I stand for, what I will and won’t sacrifice and what it means for me to show up fully without being consumed by where I show up.

I still lead with connection, but not at the cost of myself. I still bring colleagues together, but I let my personal relationships matter more when they need to. 

When I notice I’m overburdened or losing sight of what’s important, I ask myself what’s shaping me right now; is it my own values, or the silent expectations of a system that’s in conflict with them? Where are my boundaries too soft? Where am I letting them slip in the name of being a great leader? When I look back in five years, will I be proud of what I chose?

Three truths I now live by

  1. You’re always being shaped by something.
    If you don’t choose what steers you, someone else will. A boss. A system or culture.
  2. Boundaries aren’t selfish. They’re sacred.
    They protect your energy, your integrity and your life within and beyond the work.
  3. Leadership isn’t a substitute for love.
    It’s a responsibility and a wonderful privilege. But it’s not your identity. 

Final Word

I hope this provides something to reflect upon and remember boundaries won’t make you less of a leader, they’ll make you a greater one. 

Hear more from Barry when he facilitates on our 2026 May Online Leadership Lab - Stepping into a New Context: Career

 

Disclaimer:

The views expressed in Blogs, Articles, Podcasts and Videos posted on Windsor Leadership’s website and social media channels, remain the opinions of the individuals and do not necessarily represent the views or opinions of Windsor Leadership. Windsor Leadership does not accept any responsibility for the accuracy of the information shared. We hope however that the views prove to be useful in reflecting on the challenges of leading today. 

Disclaimer: 

The views expressed in Blogs, Articles, Podcasts and Videos posted on Windsor Leadership’s website and social media channels, remain the opinions of the individuals and do not necessarily represent the views or opinions of Windsor Leadership. Windsor Leadership does not accept any responsibility for the accuracy of the information shared. We hope however that the views prove to be useful in reflecting on the challenges of leading today. 

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