Every leader knows the jolt of hearing a decision they would not have made. The heart races, the shoulders tighten, and words of protest form before the sentence has even ended. These reactions are not incidental. Research shows that social threats such as unfairness, loss of control, or exclusion activate the same neural circuits as physical pain (Eisenberger and Lieberman, 2004). The body readies for combat, not conversation.

The danger is not only in the decision itself but in what happens next. Stress and disappointment are highly contagious in groups (Hatfield, Cacioppo and Rapson, 1994). A leader who reacts from that raw state easily spreads it to the team. Before long, the decision is not the only problem. Cynicism multiplies, trust thins, and energy for the work drains away.

It is tempting to push past the feeling and simply get on with implementation. Yet behavioural science shows that unprocessed loss, blame, and self-criticism narrow our capacity to think and act with clarity (Kahneman and Tversky, 1979; Neff, 2003). Leaders who slow down and give honest attention to what is stirred inside them make better choices. They shift from being carriers of frustration to stewards of steadiness.

The question, then, is not only how to implement a decision you disagree with. It is how to do so without losing your centre, your credibility, or your sense of possibility.

First Practice: Regulate

When a difficult decision lands, most leaders notice it first in the body: a flush of heat, a quickening pulse, the jaw tightening. One manager described it as “reading the email and instantly feeling my shoulders rise to my ears. I was already drafting the rebuttal before I had finished the second sentence.”

The first move is not intellectual but physiological. Pausing to breathe slowly, unclench muscles, or even name aloud what the body is doing interrupts the automatic push toward fight, flight, or freeze. This brief regulation does not solve the decision, but it creates space to respond with steadiness rather than reactivity.

The trouble is that if leaders move too quickly from this state, they act out of reactivity rather than choice. Research on emotional contagion demonstrates that stress in a leader is rapidly picked up by others in the room (Hatfield, Cacioppo and Rapson, 1994). The first task, then, is not explanation or defence but regulation. Until you steady yourself, the team will inherit your unprocessed state.

Practical takeaways

 1. Practise naming the storm inside. In the first minute after receiving unsettling news, pause and put words to what you feel. You might quietly say, “I feel anxious” or “I feel undermined.” Research shows that naming emotions reduces amygdala activity and increases prefrontal control (Lieberman et al, 2007). If speaking aloud feels awkward, write the feeling on a sticky note or in a journal. The act of naming interrupts the swirl and signals to your brain that you are observing the emotion rather than being driven by it.

 2. Use your breath as an anchor. Stress pulls the body into shallow breathing and a quickened heart. To reverse this, sit upright, place one hand on your stomach, and breathe in slowly for four counts. Hold for a moment, then exhale gently for six. Repeat this cycle for two minutes. This pattern stimulates the vagus nerve, which calms the nervous system and signals safety to the body (Porges, 2011). Practise this before you hit “send” on a difficult email or walk into a room where you will be asked for a response. The rhythm of your breathing will often set the rhythm for the room.

3. Move to restore perspective. Stress hormones are designed for action, not stillness. Stand up, walk the corridor, or climb a short flight of stairs. Even three to five minutes of movement lowers cortisol and shifts mood (Ratey, 2008). As you walk, deliberately lift your gaze from the floor to the horizon. Changing where you focus physically helps you change where you focus mentally. This small ritual of moving and looking up signals to your brain that you are not trapped.

 4. Externalise your first reactions. When left in the mind, thoughts repeat and intensify. Set a timer for five minutes and write whatever is present, your frustration, your fears, your imagined conversations. Research on expressive writing shows this reduces rumination and helps people organise their thoughts more clearly (Pennebaker and Chung, 2011). Once the time is up, close the notebook. The aim is not to produce a polished entry but to release the grip of the unspoken. Many leaders describe this as “off-loading the noise” so they can decide what deserves attention.

Reflection questions

• What bodily signals tell me I am unsettled before I even form the words?

• Which of these practices would I be most willing to use in the heat of the moment?

• How does the way I regulate myself affect the trust others place in me?

The discipline of regulation is not cosmetic. Without it, you risk amplifying chaos at the very moment steadiness is most needed. By tending first to your own state, you create the conditions under which others will experience the decision. Regulation is not private self-care. It is the first act of leadership.

Acknowledge the loss

When leaders face a poor decision from above, the impulse is often to rationalise or move on quickly. Yet beneath the surface there is usually a sense of loss. William Bridges’ work on transitions reminds us that every organisational change begins with an ending, even when the change itself is unwelcome (Bridges, 2009). Leaders may lose trust in decision-makers, confidence in the organisation’s direction, or simply the comfort of certainty. Neuroscience shows that the brain reacts strongly to loss and ambiguity, often treating them as threats to survival (Kahneman and Tversky, 1979). Unless these losses are acknowledged, leaders remain stuck in frustration and cynicism.

Many leaders describe this as carrying a private grief. One spoke of hearing about a budget cut and feeling not just anger but sadness: “It was the project I had fought for. Letting it go felt like admitting all that effort was wasted.” To acknowledge the loss is not indulgent. It is an act of honesty that clears the ground for steadiness later.

Practical takeaways

 1. Identify what feels taken from you. Instead of saying “this is just bad,” specify what has ended: influence, recognition, or a sense of fairness. Studies of adjustment show that naming the precise loss improves coping and reduces rumination (Stroebe and Schut, 2010). Write one sentence beginning “What I feel I have lost is…” and continue until you find the word that resonates.

 2. Give the loss a container. Suppressing grief increases stress and slows recovery (Gross and Levenson, 1997). Choose a small ritual that symbolises closure. It might be deleting a draft of the counter-argument you will not send, moving a project file into “archive,” or wiping a whiteboard clean. The act does not erase the disappointment, but it tells your mind that you are choosing to move forward.

 3. Seek perspective through dialogue. Leaders who talk through their reactions with a trusted peer or coach are less likely to spiral into cynicism. Research shows that disclosure improves mental health and strengthens resilience (Pennebaker, 1997). Practise sharing in a contained way: “This decision frustrates me, and what I feel I have lost is…” Keep it brief so it releases energy rather than fuelling grievance.

 4. Honour what mattered before you let it go. Transitions research highlights that gratitude for the old helps people move into the new (Bridges, 2009). Take a few minutes to note what was valuable in what is ending. It could be a team’s effort, the learning gained, or the intention behind the work. Gratitude does not justify the decision. It restores dignity to what came before and makes the loss less corrosive.

Reflection questions

• What feels lost for me in this decision, and how can I name it honestly?

• What small ritual might help me mark this ending so I do not carry it unspoken?

• Who could I trust to hear a five-minute version of my reaction, without needing to fix it?

A leader who skips this step risks carrying hidden resentment into every future conversation. By acknowledging the loss directly, you loosen its hold. Acceptance is not agreement. It is the act that allows you to walk into the next phase with integrity intact.

Practise self-compassion

After a poor decision is handed down, many leaders turn the frustration inward. They replay conversations where they might have spoken differently or blame themselves for not preventing the outcome. This self-criticism can feel like accountability, yet research shows it drains energy and reduces resilience. Kristin Neff’s studies on self-compassion demonstrate that treating oneself with the same understanding one would offer a colleague leads to lower stress and greater capacity to learn from difficulty (Neff, 2003).

Self-compassion does not mean ignoring mistakes or excusing poor judgement. It means recognising that being caught between upper management and a team is a challenging position that thousands of leaders inhabit. The question is whether you will punish yourself for not controlling the uncontrollable, or whether you will give yourself the grace to move forward with steadiness.

Practical takeaways

 1. Speak to yourself as you would to a peer. Research shows that leaders who practise kind self-talk recover more quickly from setbacks (Neff and Germer, 2013). One way is to imagine a trusted colleague sitting across from you and ask, “What would I say to them in this moment?” Another is to phrase your thoughts in the second person, such as “You did what you could with what you had.” A third is to use a grounding phrase like, “This is hard, but I am not alone in facing it.”

 2. Normalise the struggle. Studies on leadership authenticity show that acknowledging difficulty increases credibility rather than diminishes it (Owens and Hekman, 2012). You might remind yourself, “Anyone placed in this position would feel stretched.” Or you might list out three names of peers who have faced similar tensions, simply to see you are not unique in this challenge. Or you might recall a mentor’s story of when they too were caught in the middle. These moves shift the weight from isolation to shared humanity.

3. Create a brief practice of kindness. Evidence from mindfulness research shows that even short moments of self-directed care reduce cortisol and increase positive affect (Keng, Smoski and Robins, 2011). Some leaders find it helpful to place a hand on their chest and quietly repeat, “May I meet this with patience.” Others write a one-sentence note of encouragement to themselves, such as “I will return to this tomorrow with fresh eyes,” and leave it on their desk. Still others use a physical gesture, like unclenching the jaw or loosening their tie, to symbolise softening.

 4. Redirect the inner critic toward learning. Instead of cycling through “what if” scenarios, channel the energy into a constructive question. You might ask, “What is one thing I can take from this that will help me next time?” Or set a timer for three minutes and write a list of possible learnings, then circle one you can act on. Or tell a peer, “Here is what I think I can carry forward,” and then deliberately stop the conversation there. Research on adaptive coping shows that reframing setbacks as information increases resilience and motivation (Carver, Scheier and Weintraub, 1989).

Reflection questions

• How do I usually speak to myself when I feel I have failed?

• Which self-compassion practice feels most natural to try first?

• What would change for my team if I carried myself with less self-criticism and more steadiness?

Leaders who practise self-compassion do not become complacent. They become freer to take the next step without carrying hidden blame. When you release the grip of harsh judgement, you create the conditions for clarity and courage to emerge. The grace you extend to yourself becomes the foundation for the grace you can extend to others.

Reframe the situation

Once a leader has steadied themselves and acknowledged the loss, the mind often begins circling the same story: “This decision is wrong, and I am trapped.” Behavioural science shows that the way we frame events shapes not only how we feel but also what actions seem possible. Cognitive reappraisal, the practice of reinterpreting a situation to change its emotional impact, has been shown to reduce distress and improve problem-solving (Gross, 2002). Reframing does not require pretending a poor decision is good. It means widening the lens to see choices that were invisible while caught in frustration.

Leaders who use reframing describe it as lifting their head above the fog. One reflected, “I realised I was saying to myself over and over, ‘I have no power.’ Then I asked, what if the real question is, ‘Where do I still have influence?’ That changed everything.”

Practical takeaways

 1. Shift from what is fixed to what is flexible. Decisions from above often feel absolute, yet there are usually elements open to interpretation. Try drawing three columns titled “Control,” “Influence,” and “Concern.” List what is fully in your control (your behaviour, your words), what you can influence (how the team implements, how you communicate), and what sits only in your concern (the decision itself, future outcomes). Another option is to rewrite the decision in two versions: “what is given” and “what we can shape.” Or, in conversation, deliberately say “We choose how” instead of “We have to.” Each move makes visible where agency still lives.

 2. Reframe the time horizon. Neuroscience shows that when people zoom out to a longer view, immediate stress reduces (Mischel, 2014). You might pause and ask, “How much will this matter in five months or five years?” Another exercise is to imagine yourself explaining this moment to a colleague a decade from now. Or write a short note to your future self describing what you hope you learned through this period. By widening the frame of time, you reduce the intensity of the present moment.

 3. Turn the decision into data. Instead of treating the directive as a verdict, view it as information about how the organisation functions. You might ask, “What does this decision tell me about leadership priorities right now?” Or practise journaling one page on the patterns you see in decision-making, focusing on what can be learned. Another move is to identify one insight you can carry into your own leadership practice, such as how you communicate under pressure. Seeing the decision as data shifts you from blame to curiosity.

 4. Anchor the situation in values. Research shows that reconnecting with personal principles reduces stress and strengthens integrity (Creswell et al, 2005). Begin by writing a one-sentence commitment statement such as, “I will carry this out in a way that protects respect.” Or ask yourself, “Which value matters most here: fairness, learning, or dignity?” and use that as a guiding filter. Another option is to speak the value aloud to your team, for example, “The value I want to hold as we move through this is respect.” Naming a value in public turns it into a shared compass.

Reflection questions

• Which reframing approach helps me recover the most sense of agency?

• What new possibilities become visible when I extend the time horizon?

• How can I bring my values to life even within a decision I would not have chosen?

Reframing is not an exercise in spin. It is an act of reclaiming choice. When you alter the lens, you shift from being trapped in resistance to seeing where influence and integrity still lie. In that shift, energy that was locked in frustration becomes available for leading forward.

Ground in values

After regulation, acknowledgement, self-compassion and reframing, the leader is left with an important question: how do I move forward without feeling false? Research shows that values alignment is one of the strongest predictors of resilience and integrity under pressure (Steger et al, 2011). When leaders act in ways that contradict their core values, stress increases and trust erodes. When they ground themselves in what matters most, they can implement even difficult decisions without losing coherence.

Values are not abstract. They are lived in choices, words and tone. Leaders who consciously return to their values describe feeling more settled, even when the external context is poor. One reflected, “I could not change the policy, but I could make sure that my team still felt respected. That became my measure of success.”

Practical takeaways

1. Identify your guiding value in this moment. Research on meaning-making shows that clarifying purpose strengthens resilience (Park, 2010). One approach is to write a list of your top three values and circle the one most relevant here, such as fairness, care or learning. Another is to ask, “What do I want my team to remember about how I showed up?” A third option is to complete the sentence, “Even if I disagree with the decision, I will carry it out in a way that honours…” This makes the value specific and actionable.

 2. Translate the value into behaviour. Values gain force only when turned into action. If you choose fairness, you might ensure everyone on the team receives the same clarity about the decision. If you choose learning, you could run a short debrief after implementation to capture insights. If you choose respect, you might adjust the language you use so that even difficult news is delivered with care. Writing a one-sentence “value-to-behaviour” link makes the commitment practical.

 3. Use values language with your team. Research on leader authenticity shows that explicitly naming values increases trust (Avolio and Gardner, 2005). You might say, “The value I am holding as we move through this is respect,” or “I want to approach this with fairness in mind.” Another option is to invite your team to name the values they want to hold, then align on one together. A third move is to close a meeting by asking, “How did we live our values in this discussion?” Speaking values aloud transforms them into a shared compass.

 4. Revisit and recalibrate. Values are not static. In periods of stress it helps to check in regularly. You might set a weekly reminder to ask, “Am I living the value I chose?” Another option is to invite a trusted peer to observe and give feedback on whether your behaviour reflects your stated value. Or you can reflect in a journal at the end of the week: “Where did I honour my value, and where did I drift?” This cycle of recalibration keeps the value alive rather than symbolic.

Reflection questions

• Which value feels most important for me to hold in this decision?

• How can I make that value visible in the way I act, not just in what I think?

• What support or reminders will help me stay grounded in this value over time?

Grounding in values does not make a poor decision good. It makes it bearable and coherent. When you hold fast to what matters most, you can meet the moment without losing yourself. In doing so, you show your team that integrity is not dependent on circumstance. It is a choice renewed each time you act.

Personal story: Leading through unchosen change

Recently. I was working as an executive coach with the head of transformation for a European manufacturer whose business model was under intense pressure. For decades, they had been a trusted OEM supplier to major automotive firms. Now, the rapid rise of electric vehicles was wiping out a large part of their market.

This leader had been preparing ideas for how the company could reposition itself. They had done much of the work privately, drawing on years of experience and on conversations with people close to the factory floor. They were proud of what they had created. It was practical, rooted in the company’s strengths, and they believed it gave employees a future they could trust.

When the board finally announced its chosen direction, it became clear they had been working quietly with a major consulting firm. The pivot was abrupt. The leader’s ideas were not even put on the table. In our first coaching conversation, they said, “I feel betrayed. I invested myself in this. I thought I was preparing something that would matter. And now I am supposed to deliver a plan I had no part in shaping.”

We paused. Before turning to strategy, we gave attention to the impact on them as a person. Their body language told its own story: shoulders high, arms folded tight. Like many leaders in these situations, they were carrying both the pride of good work and the grief of it being dismissed.

Through the coaching, we worked in three ways.

First, we slowed the reactivity. A simple practice of naming what they felt, whether frustration, exclusion, or humiliation, helped release the grip of those emotions. The intensity softened once it was spoken aloud. They admitted that when they calmed their breath before board meetings, they could contribute without feeling as if every comment was a fight for survival.

Second, we honoured both the pride and the loss. It was not only about being overlooked. It was also about seeing work they valued deeply left in a drawer. We explored what part of that work they still wanted to carry forward. They wrote a short reflection on the strengths they had named in their proposal: engineering expertise, close supplier relationships, and commitment to quality. They said it felt like keeping hold of what mattered, even if the strategy moved on.

Third, we looked at choice. Together we explored what was still in their control and what influence they retained. They realised they could still influence how their teams interpreted the board’s direction. They could still embed those same values of excellence and fairness into the way the plan was delivered. The decision was not theirs, but the way it was perceived within the organisation still could be.

By the end of our work together, their language had shifted. They no longer spoke only of what had been taken away but also of what they could still stand for. They said, “I may not agree with how this came about, but I can implement it in a way that keeps respect alive. That is how I will measure my leadership.”

Conclusion

What carries a leader through disagreement is rarely certainty. It is the willingness to stay present to what is real, to acknowledge what feels lost, and to act with integrity in what remains. Leadership in transformation is not about winning every argument. It is about creating a space where your steadiness makes room for others to face what they must face.

When others move in a different direction, it can feel as if your influence has been erased. Yet if you pause, regulate, and listen, you may find that your impact lies less in shaping the decision and more in how you embody what follows. The pride you felt in the work is not wasted. It becomes part of the way you ground your leadership, reminding you of what you bring and of what you still hold true.

Reflection questions

• What part of my work and pride can I carry forward, even if others choose differently?

• How do I want my team to remember the way I carried myself in this season of disagreement?

• What value do I most want to embody, even when the direction is not mine?

Leadership in these moments is an act of stewardship. It is choosing to serve the whole, even when the whole is imperfect, while staying faithful to what matters most.

Do you have any tips or advice? What has worked for you? Do you have any recommended resources to explore? Thanks for reading!

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