Leading Through Burnout: Holding Space Without Losing Yourself
A therapist's honest reflection on navigating professional burnout and discovering the importance of self-care in the helping profession.
Burnout Doesn’t Always Announce Itself
Burnout does not always arrive with a loud noise. Sometimes, it is subtle. For me, it showed up in the in-between moments: when I had a second to catch up on documentation but felt emotionally flat, or when people said, “It must be easy — you just sit and talk,” as if holding space for others was not its own kind of emotional weight. It showed up most clearly at the end of long days, when I could offer compassion to clients but struggled to extend even a fraction of it to myself.
As women in the helping professions, we are often celebrated for being “strong,” “available,” and “empathetic.” But behind those compliments is a quiet expectation that we can give endlessly—that our care should never run out. I have learned the hard way that even the most meaningful work becomes unsustainable without boundaries, self-reflection, and deep self-compassion.
Doing the Work with Heart — and Balance
Over the past four years, I have worked closely with children, adolescents, and adults navigating trauma, anxiety, grief, and loss. Some days, it feels like a decade’s worth of human emotion packed into each forty-five minutes. But it is work I am deeply proud of, as I have witnessed resilience, healing, and transformation.
Still, passion alone is not protection against exhaustion. At one point, I had to ask myself: What does it mean to care deeply while still caring for myself?
That question shifted everything. It forced me to rethink how I defined success.
Being a strong clinician was no longer about doing the most or saying “yes” to everything. It meant modeling what balance looks like, in a field that rarely promotes it. I began checking in with my own emotional and physical needs as often as I do with my clients. And I started practicing something that felt radical at the time: Saying, “I need rest,” without guilt.
A Lesson That Changed Everything
One of the most pivotal lessons I have learned is this: Burnout is not a sign of weakness. It is a sign you’ve been strong for too long without enough support.
That realization permitted me to restructure how I show up in my role. I started building systems that prioritized not just my clients’ well-being, but my ability to remain present, whole, and human in the work.
Taking a Moment for Yourself
Sometimes, self-care does not mean taking a vacation or clearing your schedule; it just means pausing.
One practice I return to often is this:
- Close your eyes and take three full breaths.
- Place one hand over your heart — a physical reminder that you are here.
- Ask yourself quietly: “What do I need right now?”
Whether the answer is a glass of water, a small snack, a nap, a moment of silence, or ten minutes with your phone off—honor it.
These small, honest check-ins can reconnect you with yourself in the middle of chaos and remind you that your needs are not an afterthought.
A Sustainable Path Forward
Today, I still support people through pain and change, but I also help fellow professionals—especially women—do this work sustainably.
I remind them (and myself) that our wellness is not separate from our roles; it is essential to them.
Setting limits, taking breaks, and asking for help are not flaws in our character. They are habits of people committed to staying in this work long-term.
To anyone feeling stretched thin: you are not alone.
The work is hard, yes. But it becomes harder when we forget that we matter, too. The best gift we can give those we support is to include ourselves in the care we offer—fully, unapologetically, and without shame.
