The Inverse Relationship Between Busyness and Joy

My first job after college was an internship at my home church.

It was the year 2000 and things were simpler.

I led a college age ministry, and prepared for the day when Kristen and I would enter the mission field in southern Spain. [That day never arrived, but that’s a different story.]

Kristen worked part-time at our local library, we spent a lot of time with friends, and experienced a miscarriage. It wasn’t easy, but it was less… hectic.

I distinctly remember a repeated experience I had during those years. Often, during a drive home at the end of my work day, I had an overwhelming feeling of serendipity.

Life went into slow motion for about ten seconds. A deep sense of gratitude and satisfaction washed over my heart like a sunrise in the middle of the late afternoon.

I don’t know when I stopped having those experiences, but I am certain that their disappearance is correlated to the rising business and increasing speed of life the next two decades. 

A frenetic pace, it turns out, seldom converts to moments of joy and awe.

It’s taken me nearly three years of life at a somewhat slower pace for those unbidden moments of serendipity, awe, and appreciation to bloom again.

What finally pushed those daisies back up to the surface?

Multnomah Falls.

Recently, while on a business trip for a speaking engagement, Kristen and I detoured to the Oregon icon.

My keynote the night before had been electric. The group responded verbally to many of my points, calling back to me, laughing, and groaning with recognition. After the session and many personal conversations with attendees, we grabbed Taco Bell, left Spokane, and drove through a desolate part of Washington state. The dusky sky put on a show of colors, clouds, and contrast that endured for the entire trip. 

The next morning, after a quick breakfast at our Best Western, we drove to the falls. 

As we approached, the grandeur of the site was visible from a distance. We stopped in the middle of the path as other tourists kept buzzing back and forth.

I was struck. Breathless. Tears came to my eyes. I was speechless.

The purpose of our trip to the Pacific Northwest was to a) inform an association of nursing professors that it’s not their fault they feel so burned out, b) tell them my burnout story, and c) give them some practical tips for recovery. 

Twelve hours later, we stood in awe of the upper and lower falls that featured in the movie, “The Shack.” 

Awe.

Appreciation.

Serendipity.

Joy cannot be forced. It has to dawn on you.

It dawned on me again during that trip.

May your frenetic pace slow long enough this week for you to feel awe, to appreciate, and to have joy dawn on you.

Spiders, Systems, and Good Intentions

I don’t have anything against spiders, personally.

They have a job to do. I respect that.

However, I have a job to do as well.

That job? Keeping a clean porch.

Are you already anticipating our epic battle? My years-long struggle included daily knocking down webs near my front door.

These are hard-working spiders–able to create massive webs in 24 hours.

Jokes on them, though. I can clean up the corners nightly with a swipe of the broom.

It only takes me a few minutes. Of course, it required my repeated attention.

These daily skirmishes continued every summer for longer than I’d like to admit.

Then, one day, I stopped to think.

“What’s my goal?” A clean porch.

“Is this method effective?” Somewhat. The webs were cleared momentarily, but eventually they returned.

“Was it a good use of my time?” Apparently not, since they keep coming back.

“Were my intentions good?” Yes. I wanted to have a clean porch.

“Didn’t the spiders learn that this isn’t a good place for webs?” Apparently not.

“Why did they keep building webs?” To eat, of course.

“What made this a good place to build a web?” Ah, I was getting somewhere.

The porch light. The one I kept having to clean. It attracts their prey–insects.

So, one night, before I stepped outside to knock down the spider webs yet again, I paused. A light dawned on me. I looked over at the panel of switches just inside my dirty front door.

There were three that controlled external lights in front of my house. One for the light post. Another controlled the lights on either side of the garage door. And the final was dedicated to the single light on my front porch. The beckoning call to the moths and other insects that inspired the spiders to rebuild their webs.

I needed to change the system.

So… wait for it… I turned off the light next to my front door.

The next day, there were still spider webs.

No one said spiders are fast learners.

I knocked them down. And left the porch dark again that night.

Fewer webs the next morning.

Now, a few years on, I always leave that light off. And the spiders have all moved on to better hunting grounds.

My intentions and goals are still the same–a clean porch.

The outcome has improved–the porch is cleaner.

My effort, although it wasn’t great to begin with, has been reduced to zero.

This is the difference between having a leader who wants to support the wellbeing of their team and having a system that supports their wellbeing.

Stick with me.

A supportive leader will take supportive actions routinely. Maybe daily–just like I did when I was knocking down the webs.

They will work hard to support their team.

Except when they are on vacation, or overworked, or sick, or simply in a meeting.

They will routinely knock down those webs. Their intention is good.

But the outcome? It’s spotty.

The effort? They would argue it’s worth it.

The felt effect? The coworkers feel supported–sometimes.

Systems are like turning off the porch light.

For example. Imagine that a supportive leader without systems in place learns that a coworker has experienced a death in their family. The leader calls them. Offers sympathy. Sends a card. Maybe attends the funeral. They are a good leader–knocking down webs often.

However, there are more holes in this approach than a piece of Swiss cheese.

What if the coworker never tells their leader about the death of the loved one?

What if the leader isn’t supportive?

What if the relation of the deceased doesn’t qualify for bereavement time?

What if the leader simply forgets to send the card, or check-in on the coworker, or go to the funeral?

What if, God forbid, the leader doesn’t like that coworker?

Or that coworker doesn’t like the leader?

Or the leader is out on FMLA when the death occurs?

The process of knocking down webs, although not labor-intensive, requires constant attention.

In this situation, what systems could equate to turning off the front porch light?

In my last workplace, we posted a bereavement form on our intranet site. It was simple and could be completed by the coworker or their leader. When they submitted the form, a notification was sent to HR and me (Chaplaincy Director).

The details were few. The name of the coworker. The name of the deceased. The relationship between the two. And the name of the coworker’s leader.

Next, HR automatically initiated a memorial gift. Over the years, the gifts varied from wind chimes, a memorial plaque, or a donation to the health system foundation to honor the deceased.

Simultaneously, an email landed in my inbox. I created Outlook rules to funnel these messages into a special folder.

Once a week, I sent emails to these coworkers. I expressed support, and offered resources.

Admittedly, I used a copy and paste message, although I often customized it slightly.

The email explained some of the other systems we had in place.

Support groups. EAP counselors. Grief materials in our chaplaincy office, and real live chaplains in every facility.

Over time, I developed a second email that I sent to the leader. The leader's email gave them tips on how to respond as their coworker was grieving.

Sometimes, the grieving coworker had a supportive leader and team. Those coworkers often replied to my email praising their “work family” for being there for them in their time of need.

Other times, the reply was more grim. “At least someone acknowledged what happened. I had to fill out the form myself.” Imagine if the system had not been in place. Their anger would have multiplied.

But we turned off the porch light.

At a basic level, we never missed showing support to our coworkers (in a huge health system) when their loved ones died.

This principle can be applied to everything from quality and compliance to the mental health of coworkers.

A few other examples:

A leader who always reminds their direct reports to maintain quality standards vs. Tools that make it nearly impossible to miss required documentation

A leader who supports the use of EAP counselors vs. A department practice of requiring an EAP visit after 90 days of employment

A leader who cares about the personal vitality of their coworkers vs. A routine of dedicating five minutes at each staff meeting to discuss mental health

Turn off the light.

I know you don’t mind knocking down the webs.

You’re committed.

Your intentions are good.

But the outcome is spotty.

Just. Pause. And find the light that needs to be turned off.

It might take more effort than leaving my front porch light off (which takes no effort). But once systems are in place, they work day and night. Make sure their work lines up with your intentions.

Good systems defeat good intentions every minute of every day.

What exactly do I do?

I’ll be honest, when I am invited to speak for an event, I tend to re-use the same speaker bio over and over.

But recently, when Community Health in Indy asked for my bio prior to an event, I was bored.

So, I wrote a fresh bio from scratch.

Here it is:

Patrick Riecke. MA, is an author and national speaker on the topics of healthcare burnout and leadership development. His compassionate, sincere, and practical approach has two foundations. First, as a healthcare director for many years, he supported coworkers struggling under the weight of their work. Second, he demonstrates vulnerability about his own burnout experience—and his fateful encounter with a crash cart while a patient in his own hospital. Patrick blends seriousness about the burnout epidemic with lighthearted humor as he provides resources and solutions to leaders and coworkers alike.

Father’s Day and Men’s Mental Health Month

Chris Rock said, “Only women, children, and dogs are loved unconditionally. A man is only loved if he provides something.”

His grandmother said, “A broke man is like a broke hand–can’t do nothing with it.”

I heard the comedian express this thought in 2023–when I was burned out and depressed.

In my journal, I wrote, “That’s f*cking messed up. And I feel it.”

Women, before you object to this sentiment, reminding me that being a woman isn’t exactly all sunshine and rainbows…

I know.
I believe you.
You’re right.

But, for men’s mental health month, I have to explain how this feels.

Do I believe all people have value? Yes
Do I believe I have value? Only if I am contributing to my family, community, and world.

Do I believe that all people are worthy of love, no matter what? Yes
Do I love myself? Only when I am being productive and doing good work.

Do I love you intrinsically, with all my heart? Yes
Do I express love to my own soul? No, I am a screw up.

Before you pity me–

Poor ‘ol Patrick needs to learn to love himself–

Let me inject my actual life situation into this conversation.

-Secure upbringing with two stable and loving parents
-Married to one of the most loving people in the history of humankind
-Positive, enjoyable relationships with my adult children

So, here’s the point for men’s mental health month:

This poison infects men everywhere.

“I am not lovable.”
“If I am weak, I should be thrown away.”
“If I can’t provide for my family, I am a loser.”

Yes. Yes, yes.

I recognize that these are messages of toxic masculinity.
Yes, I recognize that men perpetuate these lies–maybe more than anyone else.
Yes, I do experience unconditional love in my life.

And yet… men can’t change our inner beliefs like we change out of work clothes at the end of the day.

These stories are sticky.
They stay.
They lay in wait.

Countless men have told me their version of the same story.

“I am not sure I can do this any more. But if I can’t go to work, what good am I?”

If you or a man you love feels that way, let me leave you with three thoughts:

1. You are not alone. Most men wrestle with these feelings at one time or another.
2. Moral collapse is a common escape–but a short-sighted solution. Self-love, self-compassion, and pursuing your own healthy interests can deliver the same emotional dopamine as an affair, p*rn, or being a d*ck to everyone—without blowing up your life in the process.
3. You are just as worthy of love as anyone else. Yes, even with your secrets and limitations. I love you. My guess is at least one other person loves you, too.

Let’s create a world where Chris Rock is wrong.
Let’s create a world where men know they are always valued.
Let’s create a world where men don’t choose death by suicide because they can’t imagine another solution.

Men, your value isn’t determined by your paycheck, performance appraisal, physical strength, or mochismo.
You are loveable because you were born.
You are loved because you are a human being.

You are worthwhile simply because you exist in this space and time.
I love you. And, I am trying to love myself.

Happy Father’s Day.
Love yourself so you can love others.
Honor your own mental health.

#mensmentalhealth #fathersday #mensmentalhealthmonth

12 Early Warning Signs of Burnout You Can Spot in 30 Days

Burnout doesn’t usually crash in overnight. It shows up quietly—missed cues, shrinking energy, small changes in behavior that are easy to dismiss as “just busy.” But if you catch these signs early, you can intervene before someone spirals into disengagement, resentment, or resignation—even if that someone is YOU.

These are the warning lights you can usually spot in yourself or your team within just 30 days.

1. Sunday night feels like a countdown, not a reset

Not just dread—more like emotional heaviness or silent panic. Rest stops working.

2. People stop caring about things they used to take pride in

Attention to detail drops. Passion projects become “just another task.”

3. Small tasks feel disproportionately overwhelming

Email replies. Scheduling. Decisions that should take 30 seconds start taking 30 minutes.

4. The phrase “I don’t even care anymore”

Out loud, or just internally. This isn’t apathy—it’s exhaustion protecting itself.

5. You use PTO, but come back just as tired

Time off helps only when the problem is fatigue. It doesn’t fix moral distress, lack of control, or meaning.

6. Cynicism replaces contribution

“I guess that’s just how things are now.” Sarcasm becomes safer than honesty.

7. Emotional bandwidth shrinks

No more checking in on coworkers. No more mentoring. No more eye contact in the hallway.

8. You stop trying to solve problems you used to want to fix

Ideas dry up—not because you don’t care, but because hope feels expensive. Creativity is often burnout’s first victim.

9. You start avoiding the work that used to matter most

Healthcare workers avoid patient rooms a bit longer. Educators close the door faster. Leaders stay in spreadsheets, not conversations.

10. Sleep doesn’t heal the exhaustion

You sleep, wake up, and still feel spent. That’s not tired—that’s depletion.

11. You tell yourself, “It’s always going to be this way.”

Just because it’s common doesn’t mean it’s healthy.

12. You’re thinking about quitting—but you’re too tired to make a plan

When hopelessness and exhaustion meet, people don’t hand in a resignation. They quietly shut down first.

Not Sure How Close You Are? Start By Measuring It.

If you’re seeing yourself (or your team) in these signs, take two minutes and get a burnout score you can actually use.
MyBurnoutTest.com

Naming it is the first step to changing it.

Helping Your Team Before It’s Too Late

These are the kinds of conversations I lead when I speak to healthcare organizations, schools, nonprofits, and companies who want to stop losing good people to burnout and moral distress.

You can check my speaking availability here:
https://patrickriecke.com/live-presentations

Or get access to video lessons, reflection tools, and team discussions inside The Burnout Hub:
https://www.myburnouthub.com/learn-more