They Show Up, But They're Drowning: The Leadership Crisis You Can’t See

When You’re Physically There but Emotionally Gone: The Hidden Struggle of Presenteeism

It was Monday, April 13, at 9:30 a.m; two days after we lost Maddie to suicide.

I sat in the lobby of a company, waiting for a meeting that had been set up before Maddie had passed away. It was taking everything in me not to lose it.

Ten minutes before the appointment, my phone buzzed in my pocket. I glanced down. It was the dad of one of Maddie’s oldest friends. I already knew what it was about. I knew it would be emotional. But I picked up anyway.

“Hey Kelly.”

“I’m so sorry,” he said.

The emotion hit fast. Maddie was just four days older than his daughter. They’d known each other since they were babies. His voice cracked, and it didn’t take much for me to go there too. I started to sob. Uncontrollably.

This was a bad idea, I thought. I can’t do this meeting.

I hung up the phone, stood up, and walked to the receptionist.

“I’m sorry... please apologize, but I need to reschedule.”

I was visibly distressed. I left.

I climbed into my car and broke down. Again.

At the time, I was about a year into starting my own business. Not exactly ideal timing, especially while navigating a brutal divorce. I was fighting to keep my kids in Canada. Still paying off sizable legal fees. Bills piling up. Two boys still depending on me.

I remember thinking: this is where I wish I had an employer. ’ Someone who’d offer bereavement leave. Or even just a week to ease the pressure.

My family and friends were incredibly supportive. But leading up to Maddie’s death, I was at the hospital every day for the last two months. Then scrambling to make ends meet every month.

When your child’s in crisis, you do what you have to do to hold it together. I was barely operating. Some days, I sat at my laptop for hours and accomplished nothing. If I was running at 25% efficiency, that felt generous.

Because when your child is in crisis, that becomes everything. It consumes your thoughts. Your body. Your sleep.

Sure, I was working. But the bigger question was, what was I actually accomplishing?

This… this is the part no one talks about.

This is what 1 in 4 of your employees who are parents are dealing with.

You might track missed days at work.

But the real challenge?

It’s not absenteeism.

It’s presenteeism.

What is Presenteeism?

It’s when someone shows up for work in body, but not in mind. They’re physically there, but mentally, emotionally, they’re scattered. Struggling. Grieving. Fighting invisible battles.

For parents going through the unimaginable, like I was, presenteeism is devastating. Not just for productivity, but for dignity. Identity. Survival.

And the cost to employers? It’s 7.5 times higher than absenteeism. But no one’s measuring it.

Before we lost Maddie, I thought I had ADHD. I couldn’t explain it any other way. The distraction, the fog, the inability to complete simple tasks. I now realize it was extreme anxiety. After we lost her, it tipped into full-on depression.

The result was the same: minimal output. Constant internal noise. A brain hijacked by grief.

I’d try to break things down into small, manageable steps. But nothing stuck. When your brain is in that state, it doesn’t know where to land. You’re not avoiding work. You’re just… unable to focus on it. Your desire says yes. Your brain drags you elsewhere.

It’s so frustrating. The mismatch between your will and your wiring.

Work that once felt second nature now feels foreign. I had to rewire everything. Skills I used to perform without thinking, I had to relearn. I went from unconsciously competent to consciously incompetent. Or worse.

It took longer to do less. The quality suffered. The effort more than doubled.

Imagine a computer with limited processing speed and 500 tabs open. That’s what it felt like. And you can’t close any of the tabs. They just keep running in the background. Eating up bandwidth you don’t have.

That’s presenteeism.

And it’s quietly costing people at work, at home, and inside their own heads.

So… What Can Employers Do?

Ask yourself: Is someone on your executive or management team quietly struggling right now?

Would you even know?

Because presenteeism doesn’t announce itself. It’s silent. It shows up as missed deadlines, shorter tempers, and foggy decision-making. But the origin? It’s often at home, with stress that no policy or perks package can touch.

Now, imagine being the employer who sees it coming and takes action.

What if you could reduce that emotional weight, increase productivity, and lower long-term employee benefit costs, just by supporting your people where it matters most?

That’s what this does.

Mentorship for their teen. Before the crisis hits. Before burnout spirals. Before they turn to extended disability or extended leave.

The ROI makes it a no-brainer.

One small investment can help your team feel supported, their families feel held, and your benefit claims down the line start to decrease. Because when we care proactively, we don’t just help our people, we stabilize our systems.

This isn’t therapy. It’s not about fixing kids. It’s about giving teens a trusted, neutral adult to turn to. It’s someone outside their family who listens, nudges, and helps them feel less alone.

And when a teen feels supported?

A parent breathes easier. They’re more present. More capable. More focused. Not magically cured, but no longer drowning.

If you’re a business leader, this is something you can offer: quietly, powerfully, right now.

If you’re in HR, and you’re walking the tightrope of empathy and privacy, let us help.

This is how you get that senior leader back on track. Not by pushing. But by lifting some of the load they’re carrying.

Has this got you thinking a little differently?