Opening Reflection:
It crept in slowly. At first, I told myself it was just a run of hard weeks. That a good night’s sleep or a weekend off would put things right. I still showed up to meetings with energy, still hit deadlines, still led the Monday call with conviction. But inside, something had changed. I no longer looked forward to the work. Ideas felt harder to summon. Decisions that once came easily now sat heavy in my mind.
I didn’t call it burnout at the time. I told myself I was just tired, that this was the cost of leadership, of being dependable, of showing up when it mattered. But gradually I noticed things I couldn’t explain away. I stopped following up with the same rigour. I became less curious, less generous. I was still functioning, but not fully. Not as myself.
It wasn’t a dramatic collapse. It was more like a slow erosion of the part of me that loved the challenge. And by the time I realised what was happening, I was too depleted to reverse it quickly.
The Deeper Lesson:
I used to believe that resilience meant carrying on, no matter what. That my ability to endure was part of what made me a strong leader. But endurance without recovery isn’t resilience. It’s slow self-abandonment.
I had failed to notice that the habits I encouraged in others, taking proper breaks, being honest about capacity, and setting boundaries, were ones I didn’t model myself. I thought I was protecting the team by absorbing pressure. In truth, I was teaching them that leadership meant self-sacrifice, not sustainability.
More than that, I realised I had stopped being honest with myself. I ignored the signals, mental, emotional, and physical, that something needed to change. Not because I was brave, but because I was afraid. Afraid of what slowing down would mean. Afraid of appearing weak. Afraid of what might happen if I let go of even one part of the load.
Strategic Implications:
Leadership is not just about holding the line under pressure. It is about setting the emotional tone for a team or business. When we model depletion, we normalise it. When we hide our struggles, we signal that struggling is something to be ashamed of.
After I acknowledged what was happening, I made space to reset. It wasn’t instant. It required time, honest conversations, and a willingness to reconfigure how I worked. But slowly, I began to re-engage, not just with the work, but with the people. I had to relearn that being a sustainable leader isn’t about doing more. It’s about doing enough, with clarity and presence.
This experience shifted how I support others, too. I pay closer attention to changes in tone or engagement. I ask better questions. I do not assume that people will tell me when they’re struggling, even if I’ve said they can. I check in, not just on output, but on energy. And when I see the signs, I do something about it.
Burnout isn’t just an individual problem. It’s a cultural signal. And it often shows up first in the people who care the most.
Reflection Questions for the Reader:
- What signals of burnout might you be ignoring in yourself or your team?
- Have you ever rewarded someone, yourself included, for pushing through when they really needed to pause?
- How does your leadership style shape your team’s attitudes toward rest, boundaries, and recovery?
- Are you modelling resilience as recovery, or only as endurance?
- What would it take for you to work from a place of energy, not just obligation?
Sources (for reference only):
- Maslach, C., & Leiter, M. P. (2016). Burnout: The Cost of Caring
- Harvard Business Review, “Beyond Burned Out” by Jennifer Moss (2021)
- World Health Organisation: Burnout as an occupational phenomenon