Culture as a Buffer or Amplifier of Struggle

There's a particular kind of workplace culture that doesn't just talk about supporting people—it actually does it when the stakes are real. I discovered this in 2018, during what should have been my exciting first months at a new company, when my mother was diagnosed with a terminal illness.

In June, I onboarded with a fantastic group of people. We clicked immediately, and that connection lasted for years—even though we rarely saw each other in person. Five years later, we were still using our onboarding Slack channel to check in, schedule meetups, celebrate birthdays and work anniversaries, and cheer each other on through promotions. We even used it to coordinate breakfast together at our annual company offsite!

There was something special about that group, and looking back, I realize it was a microcosm of the broader company culture. I was surrounded by curious, kind, inspiring, and brilliant people who were as invested in helping each other succeed as they were in building an awesome company. I was blown away and grateful to have landed somewhere so special.

Just four weeks later, my world started to crumble. My mother - my best friend and hero - was diagnosed with a terminal illness. She was soon bedridden and entered hospice care. She wanted to remain in her home for her final days, so on top of being her biggest fan, I became her primary caregiver, too. I gave my manager and team a heads-up and adjusted my work calendar to make room for handling all the logistics (medications, meals, bathing, dressing, and visits from family and hospice staff). I was a single mom with three teenagers at the time, so I worked out a schedule with my siblings to share our mom's care, and I coordinated with my kids to make sure they had everything they needed.

In those first couple of weeks, I thought I was managing quite well. I was working mostly normal hours with my team, and I kept up with all my other responsibilities. Some days started earlier, and I was sometimes working at odd times, but it was manageable. I was glad to have control of the situation and grateful that everything was going along fairly predictably. But around week three, something happened, and I was jolted into the emotional reality of losing my mom.

I was working quietly in her room one afternoon when I glanced at her sleeping. I’m not sure why, but in that moment, I became acutely aware that the simple act of glancing at her sleeping peacefully was fleeting. Everything was fleeting - hearing her voice, seeing her laugh, learning from her advice, feeling her wrap her arms around me, and just the way it felt to be in a room with her. The sudden weight of that reality crushed me. Until that moment, instead of facing the difficult truth of losing her, I had spent all my energy focusing on project managing the situation. But in that moment, something in me shifted. This wasn't a to-do list to manage. It was a gift. And I felt a deep need to make our days together matter, to fill them with as much joy and connection as we could.

I adjusted my calendar again to make more time to be present with her. Instead of blocking time on my calendar just to make her meals and clean up, I scheduled enough time to dine with her and enjoy a rambling conversation. I asked her about her childhood and what she remembered about her grandparents. She told me stories I had never heard, and the more I learned, the more time I wanted to spend learning. To make room for that, I started working deep into the night or well before dawn.

I started feeling frazzled.

Here’s the thing, though - I didn’t completely fall apart. One reason was the support I knew I had from everyone at work. From the moment I shared my situation with my manager and everyone on my team, they were incredible. They were flexible and forgiving with their time, offering just the right balance of empathy, strength, and normalcy. They truly cared, and it showed. When I told them I was struggling to manage everything, they were supportive and adapted what they could—schedules, workload, whatever would help.

Each week, I met with my manager, and he never started out by asking the standard “how are you today?” Instead, he asked about specific things and checked in on how I was feeling. Sometimes I jumped right into discussions about work, and he respected my choice to ignore, for a little bit, the pain I was living through. At other times, I would ramble about trying to balance everything personally and professionally, and he would listen carefully. Then we would talk about what was on my plate, and he helped me prioritize what was important and what could wait.

Normally, I could manage this balance, but there was so much going on in my brain that it was a struggle. It wasn't easy to accept that I needed help, but he made it easier for me. He didn’t judge – he empathized and listened and did what he could to help. Each member of my team showed up 100% when we had work to do together, and they were flexible and understanding when I had to cancel. They somehow found ways to make me laugh most days and gave me space for silence if that’s what I needed.

The unexpected gestures of kindness were truly unbelievable. One day, my mom and I were brought to tears when a coworker sent twin bouquets in celebration of my mom’s birthday - one bouquet for my mom and one bouquet for me. It was amazing how much my workplace was a bright spot for me. It was a respite from stress and heartbreak, but also working with these folks reminded me regularly that I had a community and I was surrounded by people I trusted who were genuinely and endlessly supportive, helpful, and inspiring.

My mom passed away only a couple of months later. The support, time off, and care I received during that time meant everything. When I returned to work, I didn't just show up - I was ready to give it my all. My team and I achieved some fantastic outcomes that had a real impact.

Here's what I learned: when culture buffers struggle instead of amplifying it, when it treats people as humans rather than machines, when it offers support instead of punishment and acceptance instead of judgment, people don't just recover.

They thrive.

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I originally published this post internally at my company in 2020. I shared my story then because the pandemic was such a difficult time, and I wanted to remind my coworkers how meaningful it can be to support one another with non-judgment, strength, compassion, and inspiration.

It can mean so much more than we realize at the time.

I'm sharing this here because we often talk about culture as a system for achieving business goals, but rarely acknowledge its power to either buffer or amplify the daily struggles employees face. That choice—to buffer or amplify—creates a ripple effect, shaping how employees treat each other in moments of struggle, whether they offer support or judgment, and whether they remain engaged or quietly check out.