The World’s Madness and Your Sanity

Every day the headlines scream of crises—climate disasters, political instability, technological disruption, mass migration, and violent conflict. I feel it in conversations with colleagues and friends around the globe, leaders wrestling with polarization and the fragility of trust. The common thread across these voices is a simple but sobering sentiment: “Something more significant than I’ve ever experienced is happening. It’s overwhelming.” 

And yet, in the very next breath, I find myself in coaching sessions offering tactical, practical, almost deceptively simple advice: “Try this tested technique for working through conflict; it can shift dynamics for everyone involved.” Or, “Yes, imposter syndrome is real—but instead of letting it take center stage, let’s clarify your strengths, craft your leadership vision, and move forward with purpose.” 

The juxtaposition is striking.  

On one side: seismic forces reshaping our world in ways that feel disorienting, destabilizing, and urgent.  

On the other: the deeply personal, sometimes quiet work of managers learning to build trust, communicate clearly, and cultivate confidence.  

At first glance, these domains could not feel further apart—different headspace, different heart strings, different energy. 

But here’s what I’m learning in “the space between.” 

The skills that seem small—managing conflict, building trust, recognizing strengths—are in fact the very antidotes to the madness. They are the practices that create steadiness when the ground beneath us won’t stop shifting. They are the rituals of sanity in a time when chaos feels like the dominant narrative. 

When a manager helps their team navigate disagreement constructively, they’re modeling how societies can wrestle with differences without fracturing. When a leader chooses to focus on their vision rather than their insecurities, they’re demonstrating how we can transcend fear to create new possibilities. These everyday acts of leadership, however ordinary they may seem, are micro-rebellions against despair. 

I sometimes wonder if this is what sanity actually is—not the absence of turbulence, but the intentional cultivation of clarity, connection, and agency despite it. The madness of the world is real. But my sanity—and perhaps yours, too—lives in the space where we choose to lead, to be steady, to practice hope. 

And that space? It is not just where I find refuge. It is where change begins. 

In solidarity,  

DeEtta