Broken Places, Higher Altitudes: What Two Books Taught Me About Abandonment, Growth & Leadership

“They left. I broke. And somehow—I kept rising.”

There are books that entertain.

Then there are books that excavate.

Books that grab a truth buried so deep inside you, you forgot it was there—until suddenly, you’re holding it in your hands, raw and shaking, whispering, “So I wasn’t the only one.”

Two books did that for me recently:

📘 Wander In the Dark by Jumata Emill

🎭 The Butcher’s Masquerade by Matt Dinniman

Different genres. Different worlds.

Same impact: they both healed me.

Specifically, they helped me confront something I rarely say out loud—

What it felt like when people abandoned me in the moments I needed them most.

And not just friends or family. But mentors. Colleagues. Communities. People who said, “I got you,” until they didn’t.

And because I’m a leader—someone others look to for vision, stability, and strength—I thought I had to process it privately. Quietly. Cleanly.

But these books reminded me:

Even leaders need spaces to bleed.

Even leaders need permission to heal.

Even leaders can be abandoned—and still lead.

📖 Wander In the Dark: A Reckoning in Fiction

Jumata Emill’s mystery novel is marketed as a thriller—but it’s so much more. It’s a psychological reckoning. A slow-burning, grief-laced narrative that gave me language for something I hadn’t fully processed: what happens when the people who shape us also shatter us.

As I followed the protagonist’s descent through memory, mystery, and mourning, I wasn’t just watching a character grieve—I was grieving too. Especially the relationship I had with my father. The absences I normalized. The emotional abandonments I absorbed as “maturity.”

The prose felt like a literary séance.

Calling forth every closed door. Every silent phone. Every moment I thought, “Maybe if I were more lovable, they’d stay.”

But the deeper truth Wander in the Dark whispered was this:

Some people leave because they’re broken. Not because you are.

That sentence became a kind of balm. A boundary. A new altitude.

🎭The Butcher’s Masquerade: Grit, Loyalty, and Emotional GPS

Then came Matt Dinniman’s The Butcher’s Masquerade, book five in the Dungeon Crawler Carl series.

You wouldn’t expect a LitRPG series filled with absurd humor and grotesque violence to be profoundly healing—but this one is.

Because in between the chaos, what stood out to me was loyalty. The way characters ride for each other. How even in a world designed to isolate, exploit, and brutalize, they choose each other. Again and again.

And when someone doesn’t? When betrayal hits? It’s not played for cheap drama—it’s a punch to the soul. Because this book understands: betrayal doesn’t just hurt. It disorients. It makes you question your emotional GPS.

But it also makes you sharpen it.

By the end, I found myself thinking not just about who left me—but who stayed. And who I stay for.

I thought about my leadership journey. About how, like Carl, I’ve had to build alliances in hostile systems. About how sometimes the only thing that keeps you sane is knowing who has your back—and who never did.

And I realized:

Leadership is not about being above abandonment. It’s about learning how to grow anyway.

🧭 Leadership Altitude Checks: Who’s Still With You?

Both books gave me a powerful prompt I’ve been sitting with:

When I check the altitude of my leadership—who’s still flying with me?

That question matters.

Because some people only want proximity to your potential—not your process.

Some people are invested in the idea of your leadership, but not the weight of it.

Some people clap for your public wins but disappear during your private unravelings.

And if you’re not careful, their absence will become your inner narrative.

But here’s the truth these books helped me reclaim:

Their leaving wasn’t my failing. It was my refining.

The higher you go, the more you see clearly:

Who loves you for you—not just for what you produce.

Who can sit with your pain—not just your platform.

Who can hold your humanity—not just your image.

Final Reflection: The Broken Places Can Be Holy Too

I still ache sometimes. I still replay conversations that never got closure. I still carry the ghost of certain betrayals in the room with me.

But I also carry these stories.

And I carry this truth:

I am not broken because they left. I am wise because I stayed. With myself. With my values. With my becoming.

So if you’re healing from abandonment while trying to lead…

If you’re navigating grief while still carrying others…

Read these books.

Let them whisper to the wounded parts of you.

And then remember: you’re still here. Still rising. Still worth staying for.

Including by you.

Let’s keep going. Higher. Healed. Honest.

—Dr. Xavier D. Clark