Keeping Your Balance When The Rug Gets Pulled Out From Under You
Or, the fine art of surviving the dismantling of your project or your organization
We talked recently about what happens when you need to walk away from a project or a mission. But what happens when your organization makes that decision, not you?
Dropping my recent post on deciding when to cut slingload on a mission or project here for your reference:
That’s a good scenario for an innovator. But often we run into the situation where we’re not the ones who make the decision to pull the plug.
We’ve had a lot of very abrupt cancellations of projects, programs, and even offices in the U.S. Government over the past eight months.
Unfortunately, my organization, Army Talent Innovation, was one of them.
Initially directed to work under the office of the Assistant Secretary of the Army for Manpower and Reserve Affairs, in January things changed and we were dragged back underneath Deputy Chief of Staff for Personnel, the G-1, and swept under about three layers of decision makers. I’ve seen this happen enough times to know that this is the death stroke to an organization.
In April, we were formally disbanded. Maybe not surprising, but disappointing just the same.
Still, I think the G-1 used the same principles I outlined in my “When to Walk Away” post. We were buried under layers of bureaucracy, we had terminal opposition, and more than anything, the G-1 needed to prioritize resources toward tasks mandated by regulation and statute when we were critically short on people and money, so anything not tied to those critical functions was cut, not just us.
It sucked to see our organization cut.
But while the organization was disbanded, the people were all swept into nearby organizations and some of our leadership picked up and continued to champion some of our most critical projects, and I’ve grabbed a few folks and we’re building new capabilities for workforce transformation and Soldier Experience. Both the bad news and good news these days is, if you’re working in the federal space, that there is a lot of work to do in workforce transformation.
So, let’s talk about what happens when you’re not the one who decides you’re done. When you need to confront the messy emotions and anger and frustration, pick yourself up, dust yourself off, salvage what it makes sense to keep, leave what you need to, and soldier on. When you still need to lead.
Let’s decode it. 🚀
When your project or your program is on the cutting room floor…
Every leader of change eventually runs into this moment: The project you’ve poured time, sweat, and credibility into gets shut down.
Maybe it’s a budget cut. Maybe priorities shifted. Maybe leadership changed and your initiative no longer fits their vision. Or maybe, after all your best efforts, the organization simply wasn’t ready for what you were doing.
At best, it’s just a project that gets shut down. At worst, it’s a team.
Whatever the reason, the result feels the same: the ground falls out from under you, the work disappears overnight, and you’re left wondering what it was all for.
I’ve been there. I’ve watched teams scattered and initiatives erased, not because they weren’t valuable, but because the tides shifted.
It stings. And it raises a very real question: how do you handle yourself, your team, and your reputation when your change effort dies on the vine?
Here’s what I’ve learned.
Step One: Acknowledge the Emotional Fallout
Let’s start with the hard truth: when a project gets shut down, it sucks.
It’s not just about lost work—it’s about identity, purpose, and trust. You and your team invested energy, ideas, blood and sweat and tears, and often your reputations in pushing something new. When it ends suddenly, grief is a natural response.
Leaders often try to rush past this, brushing it off with “on to the next thing.” But unprocessed endings linger. They create cynicism. They sap motivation.
Your first responsibility is to acknowledge the loss—both for yourself and your team. That might mean:
Holding space for people to vent frustration and disappointment. If you don’t acknowledge when things suck, they have a way of marinating.
Sharing your own disappointment honestly (without making it all about you).
Normalizing the emotions by reminding everyone that abrupt endings are a feature of change work, not a personal failure.
Before you can pivot, you need to validate the very real human impact of the loss.
Step Two: Salvage the Wins
Here’s the part many leaders overlook: even if the project disappeared, there is a lot that you did that still matters.
Maybe your pilot never scaled. Maybe your program got pulled before full launch. But the lessons, the tools, the relationships, and the evidence you built don’t just vanish. They’re assets—if you take the time to capture them.
This is where a “project autopsy” comes in. It doesn’t have to be formal, but it does need to be intentional. Ask your team:
What worked?
What did we learn?
What did we create that could be repurposed?
What partnerships or coalitions were forged that we can lean on later?
Document it. Archive it. Share it. It’s like footage that you don’t need for a current film project that could absolutely be important scene setting or B-roll for another.
In the Army, I’ve seen projects disappear from official priority lists—but the memory of how they worked lived on in a handful of people who carried the knowledge forward. When the conditions were right, they were able to revive pieces of the idea and slot them into new initiatives.
Don’t let your wins evaporate. Salvage them for the next fight.
Step Three: Reframe the Loss as a Pivot Point
It’s easy to see a project shutdown as wasted time, but we can either treat it like the end of the world or an opportunity to pivot. And we definitely should not forget what we learned in the process.
The pilot may not have scaled—but it proved something was possible.
The initiative may not have survived—but it revealed weak spots in the system that need addressing.
The project may have been cancelled—but the coalition you built is now primed for the next effort.
History is full of “failed” projects that seeded bigger change later. Think of early space programs that crashed rockets more often than they launched them—but laid the groundwork for Apollo and beyond.
Space-X has made that a standard mode of business.
Your reframing sets the tone. If you treat the ending as failure, your team will too. If you frame it as learning, they’ll carry forward the belief that their effort mattered.
Step Four: Protect Your Credibility
One of the hardest parts of a public setback is managing your own reputation.
In organizations—especially traditional ones—people love to play armchair quarterback. When your project shuts down, you may hear whispers: “See, I told you it wouldn’t work.”
Here’s the key. Don’t go on the defensive. Don’t get bitter. Don’t trash leadership for killing your project. Don’t let your emotions write checks on your reputation. It can be really hard in this current environment, especially if you have a competitor who benefits from your program’s demise. Don’t give into the urge to play the game they might be playing—you need your credibility to lead your team and pivot.
Instead:
Share what was learned, not what was lost.
Stay consistent with your values. If you preached adaptability, show it. If you modeled resilience, keep modeling it.
Keep relationships intact. The people who doubted your project may be allies in the next one.
Your credibility isn’t about whether your project survived. It’s about how you carried yourself when it didn’t.
Step Five: Plant Seeds for the Future
Finally, don’t underestimate the long tail of your work.
I’ve seen ideas shelved for years, only to resurface when the timing was right—and the people who carried the seed forward were the ones who made it happen.
As you exit, ask yourself:
How can I preserve the knowledge so it can be picked up later?
Who do I need to brief, mentor, or equip to carry this forward in the future?
What “unfinished business” here might become the foundation for the next round of change?
Change is never linear. Sometimes your work disappears in one form so it can reemerge in another. And no good work is ever truly wasted.
The Bigger Picture: Leading Through Endings
The end of a project isn’t the end of your influence. In fact, how you handle endings often defines your reputation more than how you handle success.
Anyone can lead when things are going well. The true test of a leader is whether they can:
Absorb the disappointment without giving up
Salvage the wins without clinging to the past
Reframe the loss without denying the pain
Protect their credibility in the face of critics
Plant seeds that will grow into the next opportunity
Because here’s the truth: change work is never wasted. Even when the project disappears, the ripples continue.
Your work shapes people, builds trust, and leaves behind lessons. And that means it’s still alive, even if the initiative isn’t.
The key is to treat every change effort—successful or not—as part of a larger journey. You’re not just building projects. You’re building capacity. You’re building culture. You’re building resilience.
And sometimes, the most important thing you build is the belief that even when things fall apart, we still keep moving forward.
