They are desperately crying for help

When you talk about burnout as openly as I do--these conversations are inevitable.

Once or twice a week, I find myself on the listening end of one of these conversations. The other person--spilling over with sadness, anger, or frustration about their jobs.

They aren't complaining. They are desperately crying for help.

"And then..."
"I don't know how much longer I can..."
"My family doesn't understand..."
"I think that whole thing just traumatized me..."

Panic attacks.
Heart arrythmias.
Strokes.
Depression and suicidal thoughts.

Leaders who cast blame on them instead of offering support.
Workloads that are inhumane.
Shifting goals--they never know when they are succeeding.

If the conversation goes on for an hour, I usually talk for about five minutes.

They have to get it out.

They feel safe talking with me, so it spills out.

Near the end of our time on the Zoom call or in the coffeeshop, they start apologizing.

"I'm so sorry, I've just rambled on for so long."
"I know other people have it worse, and I don't know why this has been so hard for me."
"I thought I could tell the story in five minutes, but I guess not. I am sorry I've wasted so much of your time."

The cascade of feelings and retelling of their traumas is predictable.

The absence of a supportive leader is common.

The presence of distressing work--not just stress, but DISTRESS--is always a primary characteristic.

But the apology at the end tells me so much.

They are used to shutting up and showing up.
Even though they are burnt to a crisp with no energy left, they "soldier on."
That's why our conversation is like a dam breaking.
And it's why they feel guilty taking my time.

They aren't used to being cared for.
Listened to.
Affirmed or acknowledged.

As we close our time together, they become effusive in their gratitude.
"Thank you so much, this helped me more than you know."
"You probably think I am crazy now, but thank you so much for listening to me."

Remember, I did almost nothing.
Nothing but listen.
Care.
Support.
Acknowledge.
Help them feel seen.

These are some of the best people I've ever known.
Nurses and nurse leaders.
Physicians.
Teachers and professors.
Healthcare leaders.

They've given so much for so long in a system that is built for moral distress and burnout.

Over the weekend, I remembered.
This is why I travel to provide keynotes and workshops on burnout.
This is why I built The Burnout Hub.
This is why Erin Alexander and I wrote the book.

Because when I hear these burnout stories from these amazing humans--it makes me so angry.

They deserve better.
They deserve to be seen.
To be supported.
To be, in a word, loved.