Why I Started Teaching About Burnout: The Wake-Up Call I Couldn't Ignore

I never expected burnout to hit so close to home.

Sure, I’d heard the word tossed around in mental health circles and seen the statistics, but it wasn't until I watched my husband fall apart under the weight of a job he once loved that I realized how dangerously invisible burnout can be.

My husband is a military veteran. After serving his country, he transitioned into the civilian workforce, trying to find where he belonged. He landed in the pharmaceutical industry, and at first, it seemed promising. He took night shifts, worked hard, and when a new position opened at another location, we relocated — and for a while, it felt like everything aligned. He loved that job. He loved the team, the culture, the work. It finally felt like we were settling into a season of peace.

But then, the company consolidated. In order to stay with the company, he accepted a new position at yet another location. They promised a supportive culture. They promised an emphasis on family. They promised he would be set up for success.

But none of that came to pass.

Instead, he found himself on call 24/7. No help. No team. No clarity about what his role even truly entailed. When he asked for resources or support, he was told to “make do.” When he advocated for himself, he was yelled at. When he shared how demoralizing the environment had become, the response was, “That’s just how he is — move on.”

What started as a great opportunity quickly turned into a toxic pressure cooker.

I watched my husband — a man who had once carried the weight of war — become afraid to go to work. He started feeling numb, anxious, agitated. I didn’t see the burnout right away. But he felt it. He was withdrawn from our family, preoccupied at all times, even during dinner. His phone never left his side. He wasn't resting. He wasn't living. He was just trying to survive.

Then one day, he had a full-blown panic attack at work. He couldn’t even function enough to get himself home. That day didn’t just mark the crash of burnout — it triggered his PTSD. The yelling. The isolation. The chaos. It all came roaring back.

Watching him suffer like that broke something in me.

I felt helpless. I was already in graduate school studying to become a mental health counselor, and while I had learned about chronic stress, trauma, and self-care — none of that seemed to matter when I couldn't protect the person I loved most from burning out.

But it also lit a fire in me.

While I was in grad school, I became a certified life coach, wanting to help others even before I got licensed. Around that time, my best friend asked me to speak at an AAPC chapter meeting for medical coders. I asked her, “What do you think I should speak on?”

She said, “Burnout. It’s everywhere in our field.”

So I did.

That webinar changed everything.

I saw faces light up with recognition when I explained what burnout really is — not just being tired, but being detached, hopeless, numb. I saw the shock when I shared that there are seven types of rest, and most people don’t even know they’re running on empty in more than one area.

I realized that my husband wasn’t alone. That this wasn’t just about him. This was systemic.

Burnout is not always loud. Sometimes it’s silent and chronic. Sometimes it looks like someone who’s still smiling and performing, while dying inside.

And I knew right then: I couldn’t not teach this.

I had to talk about burnout. I had to spread the word about what rest really means. I had to show people that hustle is not a badge of honor — it’s a slow burn that leads to emotional collapse if we’re not careful.

Because yes — even people who love what they do can burn out. Even those of us in helping professions. That’s why we have to create systems — both personal and organizational — that protect our mental and emotional wellness.

The world has lied to us. It told us that if we’re not grinding, we’re not valuable. That rest is lazy. That success requires sacrifice.

But I believe this with my whole heart:👉🏽 We are not meant to work to die. We are meant to work to live.👉🏽 Life isn’t found in hustle. It’s found in presence.👉🏽 Time with our loved ones, time to reflect, to breathe, to be — those are the real riches.

My husband’s burnout was a wake-up call I didn’t ask for — but I’ll never ignore it again.

And now, I teach others to recognize the signs before they crash. I show them what rest actually looks like. I give language to what they’ve been silently suffering through. And I remind them:

You’re not weak. You’re not lazy. You’re just human. And you weren’t built to live like this.

🔁 If this story sounds familiar — if you’re stuck in survival mode, showing up for work while quietly falling apart — you’re not alone.👉🏽 Join me inside The MindShift Project, where I help people just like you go from burnout to balance using trauma-informed, practical strategies that work.

🎧 You can also tune in to my podcast, "Shift Happens," for more honest conversations about rest, recovery, and redefining success beyond hustle culture.💌