Senior leaders are among the most isolated people in organizational life — surrounded by people and starved of honesty.
Most leaders feel it. Almost none of them name it. There's a specific kind of alone that comes with the seat — not loneliness from lack of people, but loneliness from lack of honest people. People who will tell you the truth about what they see, what they think, and what they're worried about.
This isn't a personal failure. It's structural. The role creates the distance.
Your team watches you too closely to be fully candid. Your peers are also competitors. Your board wants confidence, not doubt. Your family is tired of hearing about it. The circle of people you can actually think out loud with gets narrow, fast.
Kets de Vries observed that people around senior leaders tend to self-censor — managing up, telling the leader what they sense the leader wants to hear. Over time, the feedback loop degrades. The leader doesn't lose touch with reality because they stopped paying attention. They lose touch because the information coming in has been quietly filtered by everyone around them.
Decisions made without friction tend to be worse decisions. Not because the leader is less capable — but because ideas don't get stress-tested. Blind spots go uncontested. The longer it goes, the more the leader defaults to their own judgment — not out of arrogance, but because there's no one left to offer another view.
There's a subtler cost too. What we see consistently: leaders who stay isolated long enough tend to close off — not because they want to, but because staying open requires somewhere to put the weight. Without that outlet, they harden. The team feels it, even if they can't name it.
Not someone who agrees with you. Not someone who softens everything. One person — a peer, a coach, a former colleague — who you can think out loud with and trust that what comes back is real. You don't need many. You need one. If you can't name that person right now, that's the work.