The story I’ve never told: burnout isn’t a weakness
In 2017, I was leading marketing and business development in the US for a global PR firm. From the outside, I had made it. Or, at least, what we’re conditioned to believe is success. My calendar was full, I was traveling weekly and having fun doing it, mostly. I was the person who got shit done, the one who could always handle more.
Until the day the room started to spin.
I was sitting in a meeting during a retreat, the kind of environment where weakness isn't an option. We had actions, needed to get through the agenda. Suddenly, the walls tilted, the room started to spin. I felt dizzy, my heart was racing. I took deep breaths and white-knuckled it through the final session. By that evening, I was in the ER.
The doctors ran every test in the book. The initial verdict? Severe dehydration. I felt stupid, that’s it? They hooked me up to an IV drip and I felt like a million bucks. I got back on a plane the next day.
After getting home, whatever was going on persisted. A doctor suspected an infection and put me on Ciprofloxacin. I didn’t know at the time, but it has a history of severe side effects. And, I had them all: hallucinations, headaches, nausea, dizziness and more hallucinations. Not only that, but my doctor suspected a "bad batch" of antibiotics! Could it get any worse?
Yep, it did. The low point came on a Saturday. I was sitting on the sidelines of a middle school football game, watching my daughter cheer. I should have been present in that moment, but instead, my body pulled the plug. The same symptoms from the meeting reappeared, and I blacked out right there on the grass.
Another ER trip. Another round of tests. They mentioned Fatty Liver Disease (WTF), then ruled it out. They checked my heart, said the EKG was “off”. Finally, the doctors reached a consensus: stress and exhaustion. Huh? Again, that’s it?
Why am I sharing this now? For seven years, I’ve kept this story mostly to myself.
In the agency world, we treat our capacity for stress like a competitive sport. I viewed that year as a personal failure. I started to question myself. I thought I wasn't built for the big leagues. I stayed quiet because I didn't want anyone to think I was weak.
I’m sharing it now because I’ve realized that this wasn't a failure. It was a survival mechanism. My body wasn't breaking. It was intervening. It was pulling the emergency brake because I refused to let off the gas.
That experience forced a total mindset shift. It led me to eventually start my own agency.
I didn't stop working hard, and I didn't lose my ambition. I did change my relationship with stress. I realized that powering through isn't a badge of honor.
By building my own firm, I traded powering through for agency. The ability to set the pace and ensure that neither I nor my team ever has to see a boardroom spin to realize we’ve gone too far.
If you’re sitting in a meeting right now feeling like you’re running on fumes, don't view your exhaustion as a weakness to be hidden. As marketers, we live and breathe data. This is personal data, and it’s telling you something important.
The agency kept running while I was in the hospital. The world kept moving along while I was recovering. I was only truly indispensable to one group of people: my family. And they didn't need the executive version of me. They just needed me to be conscious on the sidelines.
I’ve never been more healthy and happy. And, I’m always on the sidelines, but upright.
