Have you ever sat alone after a conversation, speech, post, or emotional disclosure and felt unexpectedly exposed? Not because people responded badly, or because you regretted speaking, but because a part of you now felt seen. You begin replaying everything you said, wondering if you shared too much or if people now view you differently—as capable, strong, or deserving of leadership. 

For a long time, I did not know there was actually a name for this experience. The term “vulnerability hangover” was coined by researcher and author Brené Brown. She described vulnerability hangover as an emotional crash that can happen after an emotional exposure or after sharing vulnerable parts of ourselves with others.

And honestly, I think many change makers silently experience this. Especially those of us whose leadership essence is lived experience, trauma, motherhood, body, community, or mental health advocacy. At some point in change work, vulnerability becomes part of the work itself. People connect with stories; they resonate with humanity and  feel safe when they realise they are not alone.

As leaders and change makers, we often balance visibility and humility, vulnerability and strength, empathy and boundaries. Vulnerability in leadership does not mean exposing every part of ourselves. It means leading honestly and telling our story in our own  comfortable way. My vulnerability evolves through lived experience; when I speak, I share comfortable pieces of my story. Some parts may always remain tender. and that is okay.

One thing I had to unlearn is the belief that authenticity requires full emotional exposure, especially having started leading at the age of 12. Learning what part of the story needs to be told and when is an art we all need to master in our leading. Not every part of our story needs to be told, and not in every space. Not every wound needs an audience before it becomes wisdom. I learned this through experience. At some point, I tried creating mental health content online from my lived experience. I shared parts of myself because I genuinely knew people were struggling silently and needed someone to relate to. Some people resonated deeply. Some reached out privately and thanked me. But afterwards came the emotional exhaustion.

I suddenly felt hypervisible, watched and even exposed.I started questioning whether I had shared too much or whether people now viewed me only through the lens of my struggles. That experience taught me something important: just because you can share something does not always mean you are emotionally ready to hold the aftermath of sharing it.

Healing is not linear or complete. Sometimes we think we are fully healed from something because we can talk about it intellectually, but emotional exposure has a way of revealing what is still tender within us. And I think this is especially difficult in cultures and systems where vulnerability has historically been associated with weakness. Many of us grew up learning to suppress emotions, to survive quietly, to perform strength and to carry pain privately. So, when vulnerability suddenly becomes part of our leading, our nervous system can panic afterwards. We feel pressure to “be strong again” immediately after opening up.

But one of the greatest shifts I have experienced is learning to reframe emotions as strength instead of seeing them as a weakness. I have learned that both strength and vulnerability can coexist. You can be vulnerable and strong, empathetic and boundaried, humble and visible, emotionally honest and emotionally intelligent.

I have had to learn how to read rooms more carefully. To ask: Will this space hold me safely after this conversation? And even if it does not,will I still feel safe within myself afterwards? I have also had to unlearn the idea that I must always appear strong. Because people do not connect with perfection, they connect with humanity. They connect with knowing that someone understands what it feels like to struggle, heal, fail, survive, and still keep going.

As changemakers, vulnerability means  focusing not only on the painful parts of the story, but also on the growth, the resilience, and the possibility that exists afterwards. Part of change work is also changing the narrative. It is showing people that healing, growth, and transformation are possible. It is helping someone see themselves beyond survival. And I think that is why I continue exploring this balance between vulnerability and strength in my leading. We are learning that leading is not about becoming one thing forever, it is about learning how to fully show up in different rooms without abandoning ourselves in the process.

About the Author

Margaret Njeri Nyoro is a counsellor, educator, and mental wellbeing advocate
committed to advancing healthier minds and more compassionate systems. She is the
Founder of Mindful Minds Kenya Foundation, an initiative focused on promoting
emotional and mental wellbeing through education, advocacy, and community
engagement. With a background in Education (guidance and counselling), Margaret works at the
intersection of mental health, education, and systems change, creating spaces where
individuals and institutions can develop greater emotional awareness, resilience, and
psychological safety. Her work is driven by both professional insight and lived
experience, shaping her passion for making mental wellbeing conversations more
accessible and integrated into everyday life.

Through facilitation, dialogue, and advocacy, Margaret seeks to influence how
communities, schools, and workplaces approach wellbeing. Believing that healthier
systems begin with healthier minds.
She continues to collaborate with change makers and organizations to foster
environments where people and communities can truly thrive