Burnout, Recovery, and the Long Road Back to Myself

Burnout rarely arrives all at once. More often, it creeps in slowly — so slowly that you hardly notice it happening.

For me, it began as a quiet realization that I started saying out loud to a few trusted people. “I think I might be experiencing burnout.”

At the time, I didn’t fully understand what that meant. I didn’t know what to do about it, or what recovery might even look like. Like many people in demanding careers, I assumed I just needed to push through. Still, something inside me knew that things weren’t sustainable.

So I started searching.

I read books. I listened to podcasts. I talked with mentors, friends, family members, and my therapist. I absorbed as much insight as I could about burnout, leadership, and stress. And yet, despite all of that effort, I still felt stuck. In fact, it often felt like the burnout was getting worse. Until one day, my body decided it had had enough.

The Moment Everything Stopped

On July 8, 2024, I found myself in emergency surgery having my appendix removed.

Appendicitis is relatively common, and the surgery itself is considered routine. But for me, the experience became something much deeper.

It was a wake-up call.

Looking back now, I can see that my body & brain had been sending me signals for a long time.

Exhaustion. Inflammation. Chronic tension I carried everywhere.

Cynicism, negativity, a feeling of losing my worth, my edge.

And like many high performers, I had learned to ignore and override those signals. There was always more work to do. Another problem to solve. Another responsibility to carry.

The surgery forced a pause I hadn’t allowed myself to take. And in that pause, several realizations began to surface.

The first was simple and undeniable: the stress and burnout I had been carrying were taking a real physical toll.

The second was more difficult to face. One, as an HR professional, I talk with leaders about all the time, but had not ever believed was true for me: everyone is replaceable. I realized that many of the people, systems and structures I had poured years of my energy into would keep moving forward whether I was well or not. It might not look the same, but they would keep moving forward.

That realization wasn’t bitter. It was clarifying.

It helped me see how much of myself I had been giving away for so long.

For the first time in a long time, the path ahead felt uncertain in a way that was oddly liberating.

In the time since, I’ve shared this story with many leaders, and one thing has become clear: burnout is far more common than we talk about and high-performers are often the most vulnerable to it. We care deeply about the work, about the people around us, and about doing things well. So we keep pushing. We keep showing up. We keep carrying more than our share. And because we are capable, no one questions whether it’s sustainable.

Learning to Care Differently

When I returned to work after my surgery, something had shifted inside me.

For years, people had told me I needed to “care less.” I never knew how to do that.

Caring deeply about people, about the work, about doing things well — those qualities had shaped my entire career, really my entire life.

But after the surgery, it was as if everything suddenly came into focus. My priorities were no longer about performing or proving anything.

They were about healing.

Recovering from surgery. Recovering from burnout. Recovering my own relationship with myself.

That recovery was s-l-o-w.

Some days felt hopeful. Other days felt heavy. It was as if years of accumulated stress were finally surfacing in my body, asking to be released. Through it all, I kept reminding myself of something simple but powerful: I matter.

And there is more to life.

Turning Inward

That winter became a season of deep inward reflection.

It began with a week-long silent meditation retreat that happened to span election week. Sitting in silence for that length of time is always both challenging and insightful. Without the usual distractions, I was forced to sit with my thoughts, my emotions, and my body and accepting everything that came with that - noticing - not judging.

After the retreat, I experimented with a balance between solitude and connection.

I spent time with a few close friends, but for the most part, I turned toward myself.

Healing became the work.

Each day I tried to listen carefully to what I needed and honor it.

Sometimes that meant sleeping in. Sometimes it meant reading or walking my dog. Sometimes it meant sitting quietly in the sun. I returned to hot yoga for the first time in years. I scheduled massages. I continued therapy each week. Much of this process was not easy. At times it felt raw, uncomfortable, even terrifying to sit with myself without distraction. In many ways it felt like a detox — as if my mind, body, and spirit were slowly releasing years of toxic beliefs.

Often, I could feel the familiar pull of ambition and cultural expectations whispering in the background: Be productive. Move on. You should be doing more. Who are you to think you get to rest?

When those thoughts appeared, I practiced noticing them and gently returning to my breath. Again, noticing - not judging.

And each time I did, they softened.

No rumination. No guilt. Just a growing sense of peace.

Returning to Myself

Over time, I realized a shift was taking place. I started to feel a deeper connection to myself. A connection that never had space to develop when I was pushing and performing.

So I stayed with the process. Winter moved into spring. Spring moved into summer. Summer into fall again. And slowly, I began to feel stronger, lighter, more present. More like myself.

This process is not finished, I now see that it's just the beginning. A beginning that feels more hopeful, more connected, more meaningful, more intentional, more me.

Looking back now, I understand something about burnout that I couldn’t see while I was in the middle of it.

Burnout recovery isn’t about giving up ambition or excellence.

It’s about learning how to pursue them without abandoning yourself in the first place.

What Burnout Taught Me About Leadership

Burnout taught me something I wish more leaders talked about openly.

The qualities that often make someone a strong leader — responsibility, care for others, commitment to doing things well — are the same qualities that can make burnout more likely.

We take ownership. We carry the weight. We see things others don't. We keep showing up. And when we do that without boundaries, reflection, or space for recovery, it can take a major toll.

Sometimes the bravest leadership decision isn’t pushing harder. It’s pausing long enough to listen to what your life — and your body — might be trying to tell you is needed next.

A Question Worth Asking

Many leaders carry burnout quietly. We push through. We solve problems. We care for others. We assume we can handle just a little more. Until eventually something forces us to stop. And it will. I never thought it would come for me either....

If that moment came for you tomorrow — if your body suddenly insisted that things had to change — what might it be trying to tell you?