Burnout isn’t a trendy catchphrase. It isn’t a made-up diagnosis. And it sure as hell isn’t a get-out-of-jail-free card for systems that don’t want to change.

I’ve heard the skepticism.
“Everyone’s burned out these days.”
“Maybe they’re just not cut out for the work.”
“Burnout? That’s just life.”

But if you’ve felt it—really felt it—you know the truth. Burnout isn’t about weakness or laziness. It’s not about not being able to “hack it.” It’s about being chewed up and spit out by a world that is too fast, too cold, too extractive, too cynical for your tender, human heart.

The people I meet in my coaching work—real clinicians, caregivers, moms, teachers, and creators—aren’t broken. They’re heart-centered people in a world that keeps asking for more while offering less. They’ve cared deeply. They've stretched themselves thin. And somewhere along the way, the light that once burned so brightly began to flicker.

Burnout isn’t just exhaustion.
It’s grief.

Grief for the job you used to love.
Grief for the person you used to be.
Grief for the values you had to set aside just to make it through your shift.
Grief for all the moments you showed up with compassion—and got met with demands, disrespect, or silence.

We don’t talk about that enough. That burnout can look like numbness. It can look like anger. It can look like checking out at work or snapping at home. It can even look like success on the outside while your soul quietly crumbles inside.

But here’s the thing I want you to know:

Burnout is not a personal failing.
And you are not alone.

There’s nothing wrong with you for feeling overwhelmed in a system that was never designed for your humanity. You are not “too sensitive.” You are the canary in the coal mine. You are proof that feeling deeply is a strength—not a flaw.

So what now?

We grieve. We tell the truth. We stop pretending we’re fine. We create spaces where our pain has a place to land. And we start remembering what it feels like to be whole—not just productive.

💬 Let’s talk about it.
Have you ever experienced burnout as grief? What did it feel like? What helped you begin to recover?