I am a career stressor. Somewhere in the middle of my career, I kept jumping into new roles and opportunities, hoping to find work-topia—a place with the perfect culture, a supportive manager, and a fun, focused team.
I never found that place, mostly because it doesn’t exist.
Instead, I found myself morphing to fit the culture by lowering my voice, expanding responsibilities, saying yes because I didn’t know “no” was allowed, striving for perfection to avoid shame, and wearing myself out while putting on my smiling, spirited Eileen face. A part of me splintered every day trying to fit the mold,
and with it my confidence and motivation.
It caught up with me in 2021, as I came down the mountain from Breckenridge to Denver. And then again a few months later on my return trip from London. My body was inflamed and reactive, responding to even the slightest shift in diet or environment. So I pushed through, handling symptoms as they arose, the band-aid method of
care.
But the tipping point was in December. I had planned a birthday trip surprise for my husband with tickets to see the Penguins in Pittsburgh and dinner at a mountain-side restaurant. I was trying so desperately to enjoy the trip, but work pressures were high: we were planning a layoff the day before we flew back, and one of
our key vendors had released an unexpected communication that would leave the impacted staff feeling confused and deflated.
My heart was racing. I felt sick. I couldn’t focus on my partner.
It was my third trip after a year of lockdown that had been interrupted by work and my reaction to its pressures. No one was upset or calling for my head—but my body felt like it was under siege: dry heaving, gut wrenching, panic attacks, tension so tight like a taut cable raising the Titanic.
That’s when I decided: 2022 would be the year of my return. I would rebuild myself, care for my body in totality, and find new ways beyond massages to reduce tension. I had missed the warning signs of burnout, even though people, including my therapist, had tried to point them out. Chronic stress works like that: you hold it
together for decades, and then one day your body finally says, enough.
2022 became my anti-hero year (I’m really glad Taylor had the same thought).
This is my journey from burnout to the Intuitive Worker. In these newsletters, I’ll share reflections, tips, and practices for recovery and resilience, and spark ideas for your own self-leadership at work.
Burnout and toxic workplaces shrink our confidence, our voice, and the space we take up. I want you to return to your intuition — trusting your body, trusting your voice — so you can feel alive at work again.
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