The Cost of Burnout and Finding My Way Back

Burnout isn’t a badge of honour. It’s a warning sign. It’s something I’ve lived through, learned from, and now carry as part of who I am. With World Mental Health Day approaching on October 10th, I wanted to share my story, not because it’s easy, but because it’s real. I know what it feels like to give everything to your work until there’s nothing left for yourself. And I know what it takes to rebuild.

When I work with clients today, my guidance doesn’t come only from two decades of career experience. It comes from a lived understanding of what happens when ambition, purpose, and pressure collide. My role is to help people find clarity, confidence, and balance; to see alternatives they may never have realised were possible, and to redefine success on their own terms. 

My Story

For years, my career was everything. My purpose. My identity. I worked 10–12 hour days on average, sometimes 18 or more when international timelines demanded it. Financial security has always been a driver, recognition and promotions were my fuel, and burning the candle at both ends felt normal. I was exhausted, but I didn’t question it. I didn’t stop to notice that when I did take a break or holiday, I would get sick or rundown. 

Then the cracks began to show.

Just as Covid turned the world upside down, my company absorbed the product we had been building, and suddenly, my team, my work family, faced redundancy. Having to lead my colleagues through that process, as well as myself, and watching people I deeply cared about lose their roles, was heartbreaking. I was one of the lucky few to find an internal role, but nothing about it felt lucky. The stress from the redundancy process, combined with the uncertainty of the pandemic, weighed heavily.

Not long after, my dad was diagnosed with cancer. Three months later, he was gone.

I threw myself into my new role. Programs were scaling, impact was being made, and I even won an EU award. But behind the scenes, I was struggling. A new manager and I weren’t aligned. I felt like an inherited team member, never quite trusted, never quite belonging. Projects were stalled, dismissed, or deprioritised. It became clear they wanted their own people. This was devastating to me. It chipped away at my confidence. It made me doubt my worth.

And then came a personal health scare I’ll never forget.

I found a lump in my breast. What followed was a series of tests, scans, and hospital visits. While the lump turned out to be a cyst, the mammograms revealed something else. More biopsies and then surgery, and ultimately a DCIS diagnosis. I know how incredibly fortunate I am compared to the many women I saw in those waiting rooms. But that didn’t erase the fear, the uncertainty, the weight of carrying it all on top of the shock and grief for my dad, and a career I felt slipping away.

That’s when I broke.

My anxiety spiraled. Panic attacks hit me multiple times a day. I couldn’t watch TV. I couldn’t listen to the radio. I couldn’t face people. I just needed the world to stop. My body and mind finally said: enough.

Understanding Burnout

Burnout doesn’t happen overnight. It builds slowly, often disguised as dedication or drive. According to the World Health Organisation, it is characterised by three main symptoms: emotional exhaustion, cynicism or detachment from one’s job, and a reduced sense of accomplishment.¹ Early warning signs can include persistent fatigue, insomnia, irritability, increased anxiety, or feeling disconnected from things you once loved. Left unchecked, burnout can impact both physical and mental health, something I learned firsthand.

¹ World Health Organization (WHO), “Burn-out an occupational phenomenon,” 2023 update.

I turned to my doctor, started therapy, and trialled medication until I found what worked. While on sick leave, the voluntary redundancy email came. So many red flags pieced themselves together. I knew this was the first step toward a wider business restructure and one way or another, my head was going to be on the chopping block. It was devastating and sent my anxiety through the roof.

My therapist helped me reconcile what my primary needs were and where work aligned. I knew I was in no state to return and needed to prioritise my health and recovery. I couldn’t keep pushing. I couldn’t keep burning myself down to prove my worth.

So, I let go.

I took redundancy. It broke my heart, but it was the right decision. I needed rest for my body and for my mind. My brother and sister-in-law gave me the greatest gift of their dog, Caesar. He forced me outside, three walks a day. He gave me unconditional love at a time when I couldn’t accept it from anyone else. He was the light that pulled me through the darkest days.

In those quiet walks, I started to breathe again. I began to think, really think, about what mattered to me and what kind of life I wanted to rebuild. Slowly, I began to heal. And in that space, I realised that I didn’t want to return to the version of success that had broken me. I wanted to use everything I’d learned, the expertise, yes, but also the empathy that comes from having lived it, to help others find balance in building careers they love, without sacrificing their health or themselves in the process.

A New Kind of Success

Today, my work as a career consultant is shaped by that journey. I understand how burnout hides behind ambition, how purpose can turn into pressure, and how easy it is to lose yourself in the pursuit of "enough."

When I work with clients now, I help them find clarity and alignment, defining success in a way that fits their lives, energy, and values. My mission is to ensure they can see alternatives they might never have realised were possible.

The cost of burning out was high, but finding my way back gave me something far more valuable: clarity, compassion, and a renewed sense of purpose.

You don’t have to choose between being great at work and being present in life. You can have both.