The numbers aren’t encouraging. According to YMCA WorkWell and Charity Insights Canada, 58% of non-profit staff and a staggering 71% of leaders report feeling burned out. Carleton University found that 41% of employees considering leaving their organization cite burnout as the primary reason.
Honestly, I’m surprised the numbers aren’t higher.
Several years ago, I went through a significant family breakdown, and I’m sure it comes as no surprise that I didn’t take time off.
At the time, I told myself I was demonstrating commitment, dedication, and leadership. Looking back, I was mostly demonstrating an extraordinary ability to ignore every warning sign my nervous system was sending me.
Around the same time, my morning routine quietly expanded to two and a half hours (you read that right). Somewhere along the way, I became convinced that if I could just optimize myself hard enough, I’d finally crack the code and become the kind of person who could absorb unlimited stress without consequence.
After many mornings when I could have slept in, I learned that this is not how human beings work.
What finally changed my perspective was getting laid off. I’d spent years trying to be the employee who could handle anything. The one who stayed late, pushed through, figured it out and kept going.
Turns out I lost my job anyway.
Looking back, I think that’s when the illusion cracked. All that endurance I’d worn as a badge of honour hadn’t actually protected me from anything.
What I’ve been reflecting on lately is how often we treat burnout as an individual problem to solve rather than a signal that something in the system isn’t working.
Most people in our sector already know the basics on what supports good mental health.
The harder question is whether people feel safe enough to act on that knowledge when their team is stretched, funding is uncertain, demand keeps growing, and everyone is trying not to let each other down.
Looking back, I wonder how much of what we call resilience is actually just people running on fumes while waiting for permission to rest.
As a leader, I modelled some of this behaviour myself. I wore endurance like a badge of honour, and I’m not sure that’s the lesson I wanted my teams to learn.
If everyone is waiting for permission to rest, who goes first?