It’s been over a month since my last post, so first of all – HELLO! I’ll stop yelling if you forgive me for my absence and unfulfilled promise to give you PR tips and tricks at least weekly (or more). I’m back, and I’m getting back on track… Can I blame it on my ADHD?
I’ve been thinking about where to (re)start and I’d like to share something that happened to me recently. It’s a topic that I rarely post about publicly.
Losing a great client.
I don’t know if this is one of those “better kept in your head” scenarios, but I love a transparent conversation. So here goes; it all starts with what I call… The 4 stages of PR grief (losing a client edition).
P.S. – For now, I’m using AI for 100% of my content visuals, including my website. I’d love your thoughts!
1. Denial, or “Maybe it’s just temporary.”
In grief, denial is our brain’s way of cushioning the shock. We might convince ourselves it’s not real or that things will go back to normal soon.
I recently lost a multi-year contract with a client in a really cool space (retail media). I worked with them on building thought leadership and awareness, and building relationships with reporters over time – which was imperative because they rarely had hard news over the course of our entire relationship. Regardless, we pursued the right people with hand-crafted stories and had great success. But startups lose budget faster than I lose bobby pins, and alas, we had to part ways a couple of months ago. I’m sure you can figure out which specific client with a few google searches.
But here’s what “Maybe it’s just temporary” means in my PR brain:
Most of my beloved clients part ways because of budget cuts, or new leadership. I’ll catch myself thinking:
“They’ll realize they need me again.”
“Maybe their new agency won’t get it.”
“We built such momentum, they can’t really end it here.”
Denial in PR often looks like checking in “just to see how they’re doing,” rereading old press wins, or reworking the proposal in your head as if you could still win them back. It’s the part of grief that keeps us from facing the loss head-on.
2. Anger, also known as “They don’t realize what they’re losing.”
Once denial fades, suppressed anger fills the space. Not because I’m bad at handling rejection, but because I really, really care. Together we poured our creativity, strategy, and emotional energy into building their brand. Losing a good client hurts.
With my former client, I spent years building their PR program, consulting them on related social media or marketing campaigns. Connecting them with other pros and influencers across the business, like analysts and independent journalists.
I helped nurture relationships with reporters who came to trust us, which was no small feat btw. We had to create the story from scratch every time, crafting fresh, relevant angles that aligned with broader industry trends. And it worked. We built something steady, credible, and human.
But when you’ve invested that much heart into a brand, the breakup stings. Especially when you know how much potential was still ahead. Startups lose budget faster than I lose bobby pins, and alas, that’s what ultimately ended things. Logically, I understand it. But emotionally? It feels like watching a house you helped build get handed over to someone else who doesn’t know which walls hold the load-bearing beams. (My hubby builds houses).
But here’s what “They don’t realize what they’re losing” means in my PR brain. When a client you genuinely care about leaves, frustration takes the wheel.
I find myself thinking:
“We got them more coverage than anyone ever has.”
“We made that launch a success.”
“They don’t see the long game.”
It’s easy to point the anger outward. At the client, their leadership team, or the economy. Sometimes it even turns inward:
“Maybe I should’ve pushed harder on that campaign idea.”
“Maybe I should’ve done one more round of reporter outreach.”
But anger, when you dig beneath it, is really love in disguise. Love for the work, the craft, and the shared mission that once made me excited to open my laptop every morning. Losing a client like that feels personal because it was personal. It wasn’t just a contract; it was a collaboration built on mutual trust, ambition, and a little bit of luck.
The truth might be: they don’t realize what they’re losing. But I know what I gave.
3. Bargaining, the “If only I’d done one more campaign…”
Bargaining is the stage where I start replaying every moment, wondering if a different move might have changed the ending. It’s the “what if” loop that plays on repeat…part analysis, part heartache (and all hope).
With my former client, I find myself revisiting the campaigns we didn’t quite complete. The stories still sitting in my drafts, the thought leadership angles that could’ve shifted the narrative, the pitches I was so close to sending.
I start thinking, if I’d just gotten one more quarter, one more campaign, one more shot at that perfect reporter… maybe things would have been different.
It’s the PR version of wanting to rewrite history. Because I don’t just manage coverage, I care about the momentum, the growth, the relationships, the “next thing” that keeps a brand alive in the media. And when that’s suddenly cut short, your brain does what mine does: negotiates with the universe.
In my head, it looks like:
“If I’d pitched that last trend piece sooner…”
“If we’d just nailed that one KPI…”
“If I offered a discount, maybe they’d stay.”
However, bargaining often stems from a combination of love and fear. The love for the story is still unfinished, and the fear that my work didn’t get the ending it deserved.
The truth, though, is that no amount of “what ifs” can rewrite a client’s changing priorities, like a new CMO/CEO with an on-call PR team or a vanishing budget. Bargaining fades when I finally realize this: it’s not my fault that the story paused, it’s just proof that I cared enough to want to keep writing it.
4. Acceptance, or in other words: “I’m grateful for what we built.”
Acceptance doesn’t show up all at once, at least not for me. It sneaks in quietly. It’s not about forgetting or pretending the loss didn’t sting. It’s about finally being able to look back without the ache. I’m not quite there yet, TBH.
With my former client, I can’t finally scroll past our coverage recap without that familiar lump in my throat. I can’t reread the best headlines and think, “We really did that.”
Because we did. We built something out of nothing. A PR program that turned a startup with limited news into a credible, respected voice in their industry.
In PR terms, I’d start to think:
“We did something special.”
“That coverage opened doors for both of us.”
“They helped me refine my craft.”
But I’m not there yet. (Queue Dixie Chicks “I’m not ready to make nice.”
Acceptance doesn’t mean I don’t miss the collaboration, the brainstorms that ran late because we were onto something, or the buzz of seeing their name published online. It just means that one day hopefully soon, I can hold those memories with gratitude instead of grief.
Someday soon, I will reference their stories in future pitches with pride instead of pain.
Every client shapes you. Some challenge your strategy. Some test your patience. But the great ones, the ones you truly grieve? They remind you why you fell in love with this industry in the first place.
As I mentioned from the beginning, I’m all about PR tips here.
5 quick tips for handling yourself when you lose a client you love
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Feel it before you fix it. Don’t rush to fill the silence with a new project or a new pitch deck. Take a breath. Reflect on what worked, what didn’t, and allow yourself to feel proud and sad at the same time.
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Resist the re-pitch impulse. You’ll want to email them “just to check in” or tweak your proposal for round two. Don’t. That’s your PR brain trying to turn grief into productivity. Trust that if it’s meant to reevaluate, it will.
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Turn your recap into a confidence file. Revisit your wins, but this time, so you don’t miss them. Document them. Turn that campaign recap into a portfolio piece or case study. It’s proof that your work created a real impact, and in the future, you will thank yourself for saving those receipts.
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Redirect the energy. Anger and frustration are creative fuel if you channel them right. Pour that energy into refining your processes, building your thought leadership, or pitching yourself (for once).
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Stay connected, not attached. Send them well wishes on LinkedIn, celebrate their wins, and genuinely root for them. Without expectation. You know, exactly how you should build a relationship with say, a journalist?
FUN FACT!
Did I mention that this client and I have worked together (for a different brand) in my agency days, too? PR is a long game, and relationships, even paused ones, often come back around in ways you don’t expect.
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