This as-told-to essay is based on a conversation with Stephanie Essenfeld, a psychotherapist who also hosts conferences helping businesses learn assertiveness and boundaries. It has been edited for length and clarity.
Back in November of 2024, my team and I were excitedly talking about plans for the year ahead — new retreats and conferences we would host in 2025.
As the year ended, I felt a lump in my breast. Days later, the doctor told me I had an aggressive type of cancer.
Suddenly, I was filled with uncertainty and fear
For years, I had been teaching people about radical acceptance — not rejecting pain, but recognizing pain as a part of reality right now, and learning how to live with it.
Even though I initially questioned “why me?” I immediately shifted to “what now?” Cancer was happening, and it was one of the challenges I was going to have to deal with. I was going to get through this journey coming from a place of peace and gratitude, rather than fear.
In my sadness, anger, and pain, I’d open myself up to the amazing things that would come as a result of cancer.
Over the last six months, I’ve experienced a lot of good stuff. My relationship with my husband has strengthened, my daughters have been amazing, and the support I’ve had from friends and family has been incredible.
Cancer has also made me a better leader.
I was honest with my employees
When I was diagnosed, I was afraid of letting my team down. I didn’t want them to carry a burden that wasn’t their own, or to panic about the future.
At one of the first Monday team meetings in January, I was honest — I told my team about the cancer and all the uncertainty that felt very uncomfortable.
Every subsequent week, I gave them updates and shared my fears about cancer and treatment.
These meetings became group brainstorming sessions — making decisions about next steps. Prior to this, I made decisions, and my team would execute them. With cancer, I stepped off my pedestal to allow the team to be a team on a mission together.
We all started asking for help more openly
Initially nervous that asking for help would make me look weak, I learned that by inviting them into the decision-making, brainstorming process, they felt seen and heard. They were no longer puzzle pieces I moved around, but they were building the puzzle themselves.
Over the last six months, there have been days when I have no energy, and I tell them. They, too, have started doing similar things. When one of us is down, the rest of the team pulls together to help each other.
I stopped micromanaging
Continuing to work throughout chemo, I let go of control without losing vision. As a leader, I could set out a clear purpose and mission without micromanaging every detail. Instead of supervising every move of each staff member, something I no longer had the energy to do, I started trusting them to carry out the vision we’d set.
I used to think that in order to lead, there had to be pressure on my team to get the results I was looking for. While they had always met the goals, they weren’t meeting them in a way that was fulfilling. With a lot of pressure, you don’t create from a place of enjoyment.
On this cancer journey, I haven’t had the energy to apply that pressure, but I was still present, trusting, supporting, and excited for the staff.
With this leadership style, I prioritized people over performance. I didn’t just want to hear about my staff’s performance; I wanted to hear about how they were doing.
Instead of falling apart, my team showed up, and they showed me the kind of leader I want to be once I’ve completed my treatment. We’ve grown, not only as a team, but as a business. I’ve never been so fulfilled about my work as I am now.
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