As graduating Bruins across campus prepare to say goodbye to UCLA, there is one type of goodbye that frequently gets overlooked.

The end of the school year coincides with the conclusion of leadership positions in various clubs and student organizations.

Bidding au revoir to a leadership position is natural, and there is usually a direct transition of power to newly elected officers. Even if this transition seems straightforward, the emotions of students in the process of parting with their positions are not so simple.

We would be better able to support our outgoing leaders if we acknowledged the legitimacy of the grief that coincides with one’s leadership coming to an end. At its core, leaving behind an influential position in a student organization is not just giving up power – it is experiencing the loss of an integral element of one’s identity.

The role I am leaving behind is the presidency of the UCLA Club Swimming program.

I consider myself lucky. Unlike my peers and friends who are graduating, I’m wrapping up my third year at UCLA. Regardless, the sting of parting with a piece of my identity cannot be underestimated.

I became swim president in April 2024, following a year as our program’s outreach chair. I was thrilled when I recognized the true potential for opportunity the presidency held. I was in a position to engage with new members and expand the inclusivity of our team.

Though I was far from a perfect leader, being swim president became a defining part of my life.

Holding the title of president filled me with confidence and gave me a greater sense of purpose. However, it also became a major variable in determining my self-worth.

This leadership role grounded me. Whether it be the countless hours spent registering new members or the late nights spent planning and coordinating team functions, I built a level of dependency on the sense of validation and empowerment I got from the position.

In the weeks leading up to the 2025-2026 swim presidency election, I decided to not recampaign. I had accomplished everything I hoped to in my presidency.

Likewise, I wanted more flexibility in my schedule to pursue other academic and extracurricular activities in my upcoming senior year.

Fortunately, April’s election came and went without a hitch, and the team elected eight new board members whom I have the utmost confidence in to lead the team.

What I was not prepared for was the aching sense of loss I’ve felt since.

On one hand, I feel swept up in a wave of melancholy, reminiscing about all of the aspects of the leadership position that I’ll miss.

I loved spending time collaborating and laughing with my fellow board members. Similarly, it was rewarding to find ways to make the club experience more enjoyable for my teammates. I will so deeply miss all of these wonderful memories that came with the leadership position, and my heart hurts each time I dwell on these good times now behind me.

On the other hand, I cannot help but perceive myself differently in the wake of my presidency coming to an end. When I try to fall asleep at night, the self-critical, anxiety-ridden corners of my psyche spring up like weeds. A malevolent voice in my head tries to persuade me that I am less valuable, less worthy and less fulfilled now that I am not in the leadership position I held so dearly.

Part of the challenge of saying goodbye to my leadership is fear about how I will be remembered on the team. While I’ll still be able to participate in the swim team next year, there is an intense insecurity that I did not do enough during my tenure. I’m petrified my legacy will not be as positive as I hoped, or worse – that the time and effort I poured into the team will be forgotten.

I imagine I am not the only Bruin who feels this way. For graduating students, the anguish of saying goodbye to a position that has filled one’s life with joyful memories and a feeling of direction is probably even more intense.

Regrettably, the despair of giving up a leadership role is a type of grief we are expected to quietly suppress.

We are socially conditioned to be excited about what the next chapter of our lives holds, even if that chapter is full of uncertainty. Yet, this positive mentality is not wholly reassuring in the aftermath of feeling as if a vital piece of oneself has been lost.

I am still deeply entrenched in processing my grief surrounding my presidency’s conclusion, and I struggle to reach a solution about how my healing can be accelerated. My hope is to spend the summer reflecting and recontextualizing how I can find new meaning and fulfillment on the swim team and beyond.

In the meantime, it is critical to emphasize the validity of feeling upset that a leadership position is now gone.

Being a leader, especially for a student organization of beloved peers, is a thrilling, unforgettable experience. For other Bruins and me to miss these time-consuming positions is indicative of the fervent, undying passion that drove us to pursue leadership in the first place.

Just because one’s leadership term has ended does not mean that person will stop caring about the group of students they led.

In the transient period until we find a new position to fulfill ourselves, there should be no guilt in mourning the leadership role that is now gone.