The Loneliness of Being The Most Regulated Nervous System in the Room

There’s a kind of loneliness in leadership that no one prepares you for.

The loneliness of being the most regulated nervous system in the room.

It’s something I’ve lived over and over — quietly, invisibly.

• The one who can hold.

• The one who can soothe.

• The one who can stay present when others collapse, blame, or discharge their shame.

• The one who feels everything — and steadies anyway.

People don’t realise that being the grounded one comes with an invisible tax.

Because here’s the truth most people never name:

Projection happens when someone’s shame capacity runs out.

When their nervous system can’t hold the feeling of “I’m wrong” or “I’ve failed” —

so it gets handed to the person who feels safest to carry it.

And that person is almost always the most regulated system in the room.

• You become the landing place for other people’s unprocessed fear.

• You become the projection screen for their unmetabolised shame.

• You become the one they collapse against — not because they trust you,

• but because their system believes you won’t break.

And sometimes… you don’t.

But something inside you does shift.

Because even leaders feel it.

Even leaders get hit.

Even leaders have the moment where the sting lands before the meaning does.

People don’t project onto you because you’re wrong.

They project onto you because you’re regulated.

Because your steadiness highlights where they don’t feel steady in themselves.

Because your groundedness reminds them of the ground they’ve lost.

It’s not personal — but it is impactful.

Your body still feels the moment someone uses you as the place to offload what they can’t hold.

• The ache.

• The drop.

• The shock.

• The quiet grief.

Leadership isn’t lonely because you’re isolated.

It’s lonely because you’re the one who stays regulated when others don’t.

And the part no one names is this:

The most regulated nervous system in the room

is also the most targeted nervous system in the room.

Not because you’re doing something wrong

but because you feel like the safest place to collapse against.

This is why leaders burn out.

Not from giving,

but from absorbing what was never theirs.

This is why so many talented facilitators disappear.

Not because they lose passion,

but because they carry projections they were never meant to hold.

And this is why leadership requires a depth of self-connection

that goes far beyond skill or experience.

You have to know when the collapse you’re feeling belongs to you,

and when it belongs to someone else.

You have to know when to open

and when to protect your field.

And most of all,

you have to know how to return to yourself

after someone has landed on you with everything they couldn’t bear to feel.

If this lands in your body,

it’s because you’re one of the steady ones.

One of the leaders who can hold a room,

shape a field,

feel everything

and still stay here.

I see the weight you carry.

I see the steadiness you offer.

I see the invisible work you do.

And it matters.

More than you know.