I remember my first real encounter with workplace stress and burnout around 15 years ago.
At the time, I was juggling a full-time job in a male-dominated industry, raising two adolescent children, and supporting my husband through ongoing mental health challenges. It was an incredibly tough period in my life.
I became a workaholic. A perfectionist. A people pleaser.
The only way I knew how to cope with the pressure and responsibility was to bury my feelings and keep pushing myself to do more and more. Unfortunately, that came at a cost. Eventually, the “black dog” surfaced and completely wiped me out. There was nothing I could do to stop it. My body had finally taken over and said, enough is enough.
In a way, I was fortunate to recognise what was happening. I had already seen the impact mental health struggles had on my then husband over the years, and I had cared for my mother who lived with bipolar disorder. I was determined not to let the black dog win.
I went to the GP, was signed off work for a month and prescribed antidepressants. I did start taking them, but I felt apprehensive as I knew I didn’t want to rely on them long term. Around the same time, I joined a six-week NHS wellness programme, which was probably one of the best decisions I could have made. It gave me structure, accountability and helped me begin to create a plan for myself.
I started small — a daily walk along the beach, come rain or shine. Gradually, I began to feel brighter. I took up running, starting with short distances and slowly building up to 5k, even taking part in local parkruns. I returned to cycling too. I was amazed at how much movement and fresh air shifted my mood and energy. But I was also aware that I was away from the environment that had been the catalyst for my burnout. While I couldn’t change my home life circumstances overnight, I could look at changing my relationship with work. That felt like a daunting task.
I had to be brave. I had to be honest. I had to be willing to feel uncomfortable and challenge the working environment around me.
I retrained in HR and began applying what I had learned to create better systems of support for employees. I organised an NHS wellbeing talk in the workplace and became passionate about raising awareness around mental health. I wanted to make sure people felt seen, supported and understood.
I’d like to believe I became an advocate for mental health awareness. But after a few more years in the same male-dominated environment, I realised that sometimes you can’t fully change a work culture that is deeply ingrained. You have to know when it’s time to step away.
Walking away isn’t failure. It’s growth. It’s self-respect.
It’s trusting that the small pebbles you’ve placed along the way will create ripples — and those ripples will travel further than you’ll ever know.
To this day, I’m still looking for ways to support people in the workplace. To help employers understand how to care for their staff. To help individuals recognise the signs of burnout earlier — before they reach breaking point.
Because no one should have to get that far before they feel supported.
