When I arrived at Vista Verde Ranch in late October for a mini-vacation, I was running on fumes. My excitement to take part in a three-day horsemanship clinic and experience all this luxury dude ranch offered provided enough adrenaline to carry me.
The truth was, my light had been dimming since the third quarter began at my consulting job. “If I can just make it until the end of the year,” I kept telling myself, “at least I’ll have more vacation time.”
My life had become a series of “If I do X, then I can,” rules. I had learned early to pretend everything was fine, and over time, I became so good at it that I failed to acknowledge my job no longer fit my life.
On the last day of my trip, something happened that was the final wake-up call. I was experiencing burnout.
I’ve studied burnout, but didn’t see it in myself
I had researched and published on burnout in USA Swim coaches during my MS in sport psychology at CU Boulder.
We had posited that burnout was more than just stress by exploring the phenomenon of entrapment experienced by coaches who remain committed despite rising personal costs, diminishing joy, and the feeling of being stuck in a job.
At the time, I thought burnout was something that happened to other people — not me. But I fit the profile of an entrapped professional exactly.
Work was affecting me physically and emotionally
I recently dreamed I was trying to land a jet without doors or windows on a tight runway surrounded by water. I skidded to a stop just before sliding into the sea. My subconscious was trying to get my attention.
My body heard the message too. Blood pressure, which had been well managed, began to climb. At work, I was irritable, and my emotional buffer wore thin. All I wanted to do was sleep, yet I kept pushing.
I continued to work out, maintained a home, built my writing portfolio, and stayed in a dead-end job. I had always done the responsible thing and was waiting for the right moment to finish the important projects at my job. I couldn’t just quit.
My mini vacation helped me better understand what I really wanted
This growing realization followed me to the ranch. Surrounded by mountains, a herd of 115 horses, and the kindness of an incredible staff, I expected to feel restored.
Instead, I was restless, the ache in my soul growing louder.
I then met several successful women my age — all at very different but similar crossroads. Six of us had traveled without partners, and we shared meals at communal tables, watched the herd run in at sunrise, and forged new friendships. We talked about what had brought each of us there and about what still felt unfinished.
I spoke about “Please See Me,” the online literary magazine I launched in 2019, and planned to expand it “when I had time.” Their encouragement reenergized my commitment to keep building what mattered.
“You need to leave your job,” one woman told me gently, a sparkle in her blue eyes, having recently been laid off herself.
I had to accept that I was burned out
On the last day of the trip, a magnificent Percheron horse named Gilbert fell into an irrigation ditch behind my cabin and died the morning I was to leave the ranch.
I had a sudden realization: If an animal so strong can be running with the herd on Monday and dead by Wednesday, I’m not invincible either. I couldn’t keep fighting and pushing the way I had been.
I was eventually laid off from my consulting job, but not before I accepted that I was burned out.
I’m building differently now. This year, I’m resting more, listening carefully, and designing a life that is flexible, financially sustaining, and authentic.
Most importantly, I get to plan the next chapter of my professional life full-time.
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