When I burned out in 2015, I was doing work I was good at.
I liked the people I worked with. I believed in what we were doing. And I was committed to doing it well.
I was working on a major organisational change project in the media industry, at a time when the industry was struggling to find its future.
My job was to help people understand what was changing, why it mattered, and what it meant for them.
I loved making connections, building relationships and helping people understand the bigger picture.
But somewhere along the way, I’d taken on a responsibility that wasn’t actually mine.
And I didn’t realise it until after I’d burned out.
When being good at your job becomes part of the problem
I wasn’t the CEO. I wasn’t setting the strategy or deciding where the organisation needed to go.
But I had started to believe I was responsible for making sure everyone understood the changes, agreed with them, and felt good about where we were heading.
Which, when you’re helping an organisation change direction in a struggling industry, is a rather impossible task.
People were understandably worried about their jobs, their colleagues and the future. Some disagreed with the direction of the organisation. Others were frustrated, angry or afraid.
I could help people understand what was happening. I could listen to their concerns, facilitate conversations and help them navigate uncertainty.
But I couldn’t make everyone happy about the changes.
And I certainly couldn’t carry responsibility for everyone’s emotional experience.
The problem was that I hadn’t recognised the difference between what I was capable of contributing and what I was actually responsible for.
So I kept trying harder.
Eventually, I became exhausted and resentful. I resigned, and spent the next three months sleeping.
It took another two years before I had the capacity to work full time again.
The patterns I couldn’t see
Looking back, I can recognise my Self-Preservation Seven patterns operating throughout that experience.
Self-Preservation Sevens are particularly focused on building connections and alliances, finding opportunities and creating networks of people who can support their aims.
And that was certainly how I approached my work.
I was constantly building relationships, making connections and finding ways to move the change project forward.
But there was something I wasn’t doing.
I wasn’t letting anyone know how much I was struggling.
I was remarkably private about my own needs.
I’d approach my boss if there was an organisational or political problem that needed resolving. But I didn’t talk about feeling overwhelmed, exhausted or unsure how to manage the demands of the role.
In fact, I didn’t really recognise those feelings as signals that something needed to change.
I knew how to build relationships that supported the work.
But I hadn’t learned how to use those relationships to support myself.
And I didn’t understand that being good at something didn’t mean I had unlimited capacity to keep doing it.
Changing jobs didn’t change everything
Burnout forced me to reconsider how I worked.
After those first months of rest, I slowly began rebuilding my capacity through consulting work.
It gave me more flexibility and control over my time, which was essential for my recovery.
But it took much longer to recognise the beliefs and habits I’d been carrying from one career into another.
My career had already taken me from litigation law into leadership development. I’d changed industries, roles and working environments.
Yet I still had much to learn about recognising my needs, communicating them, and understanding where my responsibilities began and ended.
And there were deeper questions about the kind of work I wanted to do.
For years, I’d wanted to be a coach, but I carried a great deal of shame about that ambition. I kept finding other professional directions that felt more sensible or easier to explain.
Eventually, the Enneagram helped me recognise how my protective patterns were influencing those decisions too.
It wasn’t simply a question of finding the right job.
I needed to understand what I wanted, what I was afraid of, and how to develop the capacity to work in a way that supported both my health and my values.
What are you carrying that isn’t yours?
One of the things I’ve come to appreciate about the Enneagram is how it helps us see the assumptions we don’t even realise we’re making.
Perhaps you’ve always been the person who solves problems, keeps everyone happy, delivers results or takes responsibility when something goes wrong.
Those qualities may have made you very good at your work.
But they can also make it difficult to recognise when you’re taking on too much.
You might assume that because you can do something, you should do it.
That because you’re good at helping others, you shouldn’t need help yourself.
Or that if someone is unhappy with a decision, it’s your responsibility to make them feel better.
These beliefs can become so familiar that we don’t think to question them.
And sometimes it takes a major disruption before we recognise how much they’ve shaped our lives.
Of course, our working environments matter too.
Being under-resourced, unsupported or expected to deliver unrealistic outcomes isn’t a personality problem. We need organisations that recognise human limits and provide the conditions people need to do good work.
But we also need to understand how our own patterns influence what we take responsibility for, what we tolerate, and whether we recognise and communicate our needs.
Being capable isn’t the same as being supported
If you’re good at your work but finding it increasingly exhausting, perhaps the first question isn’t whether you should leave.
It might be worth asking:
- What am I actually responsible for, and what have I taken responsibility for without realising it?
- What support and resources do I need to do this work sustainably?
- Which needs or limitations have I struggled to recognise or communicate?
- Am I doing work that still fits who I am, or am I relying on my strengths to keep something going that no longer works for me?
Sometimes the answer will be to change jobs. Sometimes it will be to change how we work, ask for more support, or let go of responsibilities that were never ours to carry.
And sometimes, we’ll need to do all of those things.
I still value the skills that made me good at my work in 2015. My ability to see possibilities, build connections and help people navigate change are strengths I continue to use today.
But I’ve learned that those strengths have limits.
And that being capable of doing something isn’t the same as having the resources, support or responsibility to do it all.
Being good at your work matters. But so does learning what you need for that work to be good for you.