Burn Out- How Did I Get Here?

What if you're burned out because you've been trying to prove your worth?

One day, I came to work with gripping chest pain. I thought, “I’m in my 30s. There’s no way I could be having a heart attack right now.” That week, I had run myself into exhaustion. I was coordinating a farewell party for a peer the company wanted to recognize on their last day. The request came directly from my boss and the CEO. How could I say no?

With less than a week to plan, it all came together: a live band, catering, tables and chairs, tents, gifts. I got little sleep that entire week, stressing over whether it would be enough to make this person feel honored for the time they had put into the company.

The ironic part about this task? This peer hated me—aka HR. And decisions that came from the HR department were a big factor in their decision to leave the company. I felt an overwhelming amount of pressure to make one last-ditch effort to show them that I cared—and for others to see that I cared, too.

When it came time for the party, I walked into the break room and held my chest for a few moments. I was sleep deprived and worried about whether the party would make this person feel appreciated and how the employees would respond. As much as I put on a strong front that I was okay, one employee recognized that I wasn't.

That employee asked me how I was feeling, and I replied that I was excited the party had come together, but my chest was hurting. After listening to me for a few moments, they said, “It sounds like you're having an anxiety attack.”

I immediately rejected that thought. I couldn't be having an anxiety attack. I had never dealt with anxiety in the past. I had no clue that, in that moment, I was experiencing the first of many anxiety attacks that would happen to me—a vicious cycle tied to my performance mentality, my desire to please others, and my habit of saying yes to an overwhelming, mounting pile of tasks and projects.

For some of us, achievement slowly becomes part of our identity. We feel valuable when we're accomplishing something, secure when people recognize our work, and successful when we're the person everyone can count on. So we say yes to the extra project, the committee, the meeting, the favor, the opportunity, and the thing nobody else wants to do. And every time someone says, “You're amazing. I don't know what we'd do without you,” it reinforces the cycle. We keep going, keep achieving, keep performing, and keep trying to make everyone happy until one day, we're exhausted and not even sure how we got here.

When your identity is tied to other people's perception of you, “no” can start to feel like rejection. You worry you'll disappoint someone, that they'll think you're selfish or not a team player, that you'll miss an opportunity, or that someone else will do it better. And sometimes, you genuinely don't feel like you even have the option to say no. Sometimes, the company hustle is real, and it's sink or swim.

But here's something I've learned: your capacity is a boundary worth protecting. Not everything that is important needs to be done by you, not every opportunity is your opportunity, and not every problem is yours to solve. Being a good leader, teammate, employee, friend, or family member doesn't mean being endlessly available.

Protecting your capacity sometimes simply means communicating clearly instead of automatically saying yes. It can sound like, “I'd love to help, but I don't have the capacity to take this on right now.” Or, “I can take this on, but I'll need to move something else to a later date. What's the higher priority?” You might say, “I can't commit to doing this well with my current workload,” or “I'm not able to take this on, but I can help you think through another option.” Even simply saying, “This isn't something I can prioritize right now,” can be enough.

If you're someone who struggles with saying no, these words may feel uncomfortable at first. That's okay. You don't have to stop caring about what people think. You just have to stop letting their perception of you determine your capacity.

Your worth was never meant to come from how much you accomplish, how many people you please, or how indispensable you make yourself. You are valuable before you achieve the next thing. Sometimes the healthiest thing you can do isn't to push harder. It's to give yourself permission to say, “No. I can't carry that too.”