Rebuilding Myself After Burnout: A Story of Boundaries and Belonging

Important note: This reflection is based on my personal experience. I don’t believe the organisation, or the people within it, had bad intentions or set out to harm me. My values, aspirations, and needs evolved. And that workplace simply wasn’t the right place for me anymore.

I had been working in the same organisation for a while, and for a long time, I was genuinely happy. I was one of the few people who didn’t mind when Mondays came around, because I looked forward to returning to work, to a place where my skills mattered and where I was trusted to do a job I deeply connected with.

But things started to change.

People came and went. The organisation restructured itself, again. And I found myself in a space where I no longer felt like I belonged.

I tried to make it work. If you know a little about me, you’ll know that I love sharing knowledge. I don’t hoard it or keep it to myself. I’m generous with my skills and insights. So that’s what I did. I gave my best! I shared, I tried to be heard, I implemented systems and improvements that might make me want to stay.

I spoke to the people who could help me find my place again: my manager, colleagues, therapist, friends. I even reached out to the EAP Services. I tried to help build a culturally safe workplace. I chose to be vulnerable and open about my struggles (spoiler alert: it backfired). I did everything I could, because I didn’t want to be the person who quit.

But I knew I couldn’t keep going when someone in leadership told me I didn’t have the skills to do my job; a job that, ironically, had been created by previous leadership specifically to leverage my skills in the best possible way. It became clear for me that things weren’t going to change soon.

I think there’s a kind of burnout we don’t talk about enough: emotional burnout. I didn’t leave because I couldn’t handle the workload, in fact, I kept asking for more because I wanted to be involved and contribute. I left because I was emotionally exhausted from having to constantly prove my worth, to justify the value of my work every single day.

Burning quietly, fading slowly. The smoke: a feeling unspoken.

Leaving was hard.

Part of me felt like I had “let them win.” Like I had “given up.” And practically speaking, I was giving up the safety of a permanent job for uncertainty.

But once I stepped away, I felt something I hadn’t in a long time: I could finally breathe. I felt free to rediscover myself.

Bit by bit, I started to believe in myself again. I reconnected with the things that brought me joy. I felt excited about the idea of contributing my skills to a place that truly valued them.

During this time, I created my own personal brand. I built a website and started writing these reflections and articles, sharing my thoughts and experiences in the hope that they might help others. (Honestly, if even one person finds comfort or clarity in these words, that’s enough for me).

Even my friends noticed a difference: I was lighter, happier.

I began asking for what I truly wanted.

I wasn’t afraid to say no, even to jobs that some people would die for.

I know I’m incredibly privileged to have been able to make this kind of decision. I understand that not everyone has the opportunity or support to leave a workplace that no longer aligns with them. I’m grateful every single day.

If you’re feeling how I once felt, please reach out to the services available to you. Your GP is a good place to start. And if you’d like, feel free to reach out to me privately. I'm happy to share resources or just listen.

And if you can’t leave a place that doesn’t feel right anymore, then care for yourself in the ways you can. Go for a walk. Talk to a friend. Seek guidance. Sit with a coffee or tea. Even small moments of peace matter.