Leading Through Moral Distress: Applying the Zones of Control Framework in a Politically Charged Climate

Over the last couple of months, I’ve found myself in conversation after conversation about moral distress. Not theoretical discussions, but real, gut-level questions like:

·         “How do I keep showing up when I feel powerless?”

·         “How do I even know what’s mine to fix anymore?”

If you’ve been feeling this way—tired, disoriented, uncertain—you’re not alone. I’ve felt it too. A year ago, I had a clearer sense of what I had control over in my work. But now? The ground has shifted. The policies, protections, and freedoms we once leaned on feel increasingly fragile. Many of us are left wondering:

·         “What’s still mine to carry? What’s already been taken from me?”

And yet, I keep returning to a framework that has been an anchor for me and many others: the Zones of Control, Influence, and Acceptance.

I want to share why I still believe in this framework—especially now—and how it’s helped me lead through my own moments of moral distress.

The Trauma Thread: Loss of Control

If you’ve been part of this work for any amount of time, you know that trauma is more than a single event. It’s the rupture of trust. A loss of safety. An experience that strips us of our autonomy and erodes our sense of agency.

When I think back to moments of deep personal or professional distress, what stands out isn’t always what happened—it’s that I didn’t feel like I had a say in it. That my voice, my agency, my ability to protect myself or others was taken away.

Even if someone doesn’t use the word “trauma,” you might hear:

• “It was against my will.”
• “I didn’t know what was going to happen.”
• “I had no choice.”

At its core, trauma is about losing control. And that loss changes us. It reshapes how we perceive the world—and how we show up as leaders.

Some of us learn to numb out and float through our work like it’s happening to us. Others go into overdrive, trying to control every variable and eliminate every ounce of uncertainty. I’ve done both. I’ve over-functioned until I burned out, and I’ve also sat in paralysis, unsure of what to even try next.

These are survival strategies—human, understandable, and deeply shaped by our environments.

The Illusion of Control in Leadership

The truth is, leadership often gives the illusion of control. We’re expected to fix things, to lead with confidence, to hold the emotions of our teams. But so many of the biggest issues we’re facing—systemic inequities, budget cuts, political interference—aren’t within our direct control.

That’s where moral distress enters the picture.

Moral distress shows up when we know what the right thing is but feel blocked from doing it. I’ve seen this repeatedly in recent months:

• Leaders watching DEI programs get stripped away.
• Clinicians unable to offer gender-affirming care due to state policy.
• Educators being silenced about inclusive curriculum.

The heartbreak isn’t just about what’s happening. It’s about not being able to stop it. It's the emotional toll of witnessing harm and feeling your hands are tied.

And that’s why I keep turning back to the Zones of Control Framework—not because it gives me all the answers, but because it helps me figure out where to begin.

The Zones of Control, Influence, and Acceptance Framework

The Zones of Control, Influence, and Acceptance framework helps individuals discern where to focus their energy by separating what they can directly control, what they can influence, and what they must accept. This clarity supports healthier boundaries, reduces burnout, and fosters more grounded, values-aligned action.

Zone of Control: Your Anchor in the Storm

This zone is your grounding point. It’s where you have full autonomy—no permission needed. Your actions aren’t dependent on anyone else.

For me, my Zone of Control includes:

• How I hold space in team meetings.
• The tone I use when giving feedback.
• How I regulate my nervous system before responding to tension.
• What I choose to model—especially around boundaries and values.

These aren’t just soft skills. They’re leadership acts of resistance. Creating safety, affirming dignity, offering consistency—these are things no policy can fully take away from us.

What’s happening in the world right now is hard. It feels like we’re experiencing a shift in societal values—where cruelty, selfishness, dishonesty, and a lack of compassion are increasingly normalized as acceptable means to an end. We’re witnessing a coordinated counterassault on the values many of us were raised with: kindness, truth-telling, equity, and inclusion.

In this moment, setting clear boundaries and staying grounded in our Zones of Control isn’t just self-preservation—it’s leadership. It’s a way to embody and model those values we hold dear. These acts aren’t just defiant; they’re the path forward. They show others how to resist. Because if enough of us refuse to accept the new paradigm and continue living out the “old” values, then that harmful shift starts to lose ground.

Zone of Influence: Where Advocacy Lives

This is the zone where I’ve felt both the most energized and the most frustrated.

You don’t have the final say here—but you do have a voice. And your voice matters, especially when it’s grounded in trust, credibility, and persistence.

In this zone, I’ve:

• Partnered with other leaders to advocate for policy shifts.
• Written letters and offered testimony in statewide leadership groups.
• Shared impact stories that highlight the human cost of inaction.

Sometimes, it feels like shouting into the void. But over time, I’ve seen small ripples turn into real change. And even when the outcomes weren’t immediate, people noticed. Relationships were strengthened. Trust was built.

So, I ask myself regularly:

·         “Who is making the decisions—and how can I show up in relationship with them, not just in resistance to them?”

Influence can be quiet. It can be slow. It often moves through connection rather than confrontation. But it’s still powerful.

Zone of Acceptance: The Grief Work of Leadership

Let’s be honest—this is the hardest one. The place where we have no control and very little influence.

This zone includes:

• Laws we’re required to follow.
• Institutional decisions made far above our pay grade.
• Cultural resistance we can’t change overnight.

For a long time, I resisted naming things in this zone. I thought naming them meant giving up. That it meant I wasn’t trying hard enough. But what I’ve learned is that naming what’s in our Zone of Acceptance is actually an act of grief and clarity.

It’s saying:
“I wish this were different. I’m heartbroken that it’s not. And I’m going to redirect my energy to where I can make a difference.”

That grief is real. I’ve cried in meetings. I’ve sat with staff as we mourned a policy we couldn’t change. And then, we’ve gotten back up and said, “So what can we still do?”

That’s not giving up. That’s reclaiming agency in a broken system. Acceptance doesn’t mean agreement—it means discernment. It’s the courageous choice to let go of what’s not ours, so we can invest in what still is. 

Why This Framework Matters—Especially in Trauma-Informed Spaces

As trauma-informed leaders, we often carry the emotional weight of our teams. We see the burnout, the disconnection, the fear. And when we’re not clear about what belongs in which zone, we start to carry everything.

That’s not sustainable. And it’s not trauma-informed.

This framework helps us recalibrate. It invites us—and our teams—to sort through what’s ours to hold, what we can influence together, and what we need to mourn and release.

When we get intentional about our energy and our boundaries, we build resilience—not just in ourselves, but in our organizations.

Practical Ways I Use This Framework

Here are a few ways I’ve integrated the Zones of Control Framework into my leadership practice:

1. Weekly Zone Check-In
   At the start of each week, I list the challenges I’m facing—and sort them into the three zones. It helps me organize my energy instead of spiraling.
2. Decision-Making Filters
   Before taking on new issues, I ask:
• Do I have control here?
• Can I influence this with someone else?
• Am I spinning my wheels in something I need to accept?
3. Celebrating Small Wins
   I’ve stopped measuring success by big outcomes. Now I also celebrate:
• A team member feeling safe enough to speak up.
• A supervisor modeling boundary-setting.
• A policy being discussed, even if not yet changed.

These are wins. They matter. And over time, they build trust.

4. Making Space for Grief
   Sometimes, the most trauma-informed thing we can do is just name the heartbreak. I’ve created space in staff meetings and supervision to acknowledge the things we can’t fix—and to hold each other in that.
5. Teaching the Framework to Others
   I introduce this framework to teams I work with. It gives them shared language and structure. And more importantly, it gives them permission to let go of things that aren’t theirs.

Final Thought: Reclaiming Our Humanity in Systems That Forget It

The Zones of Control Framework isn’t about passivity. It’s about discernment. It reminds us that clarity is a form of care, both for ourselves and our teams.

In systems swirling with complexity, injustice, and contradiction, this framework has helped me lead from a place of grounded truth. Not from urgency. Not from burnout. But from alignment.

So the next time you feel overwhelmed, I invite you to pause and ask:

• What’s mine to carry?
• What’s mine to influence?
• What do I need to release—with intention, grief, and grace?

This is how we lead through moral distress.
This is how we stay human in inhumane systems.
And this, I believe, is how we keep going—together.