Why burnout sneaks up on teams
Burnout rarely announces itself. It doesn’t show up with a flaming inbox or a dramatic exit. It builds quietly—in the gaps between expectations and capacity. In the moments when your highest performers stop contributing ideas. When your meetings feel flatter. When the team starts avoiding “one more thing” conversations.
The hardest part? Most people don’t recognize they’re burned out until they’re deep in it. And as a leader, if you don’t know what it looks like, you’ll miss the signals too. That's especially true if you're feeling it as well.
Let’s change that.
The stages of burnout—what they look like at work
Burnout isn’t binary. It’s a spectrum. And most teams move through it together—whether anyone says it out loud or not. Here’s how to recognize where your team might be:
Overdrive — Everyone’s pushing hard. High performance looks great on the surface, but people are skipping breaks, saying yes to everything, and running on adrenaline. If your team is winning but your 1:1s feel rushed or canceled, you might be here.
The Smolder — People show up, but the energy’s off. Brainstorms are quiet. Updates are transactional. Joy is gone, but the work gets done—barely. Cynicism creeps in. This is often when people start talking about burnout, but they’re already deep in it.
Collapse — Someone gets sick. Someone rage quits. Or someone just fades—turning in work, but turning off their camera. You start hearing things like “I’m just trying to make it through.” At this point, motivation strategies won’t work. Compassion will.
The Void — After a departure or reset, there’s a strange calm. Your team might seem aimless, emotionally flat, or even oddly “fine.” Don’t mistake this for recovery. It’s the quiet after the storm—and it’s a critical time to reorient, not ramp up.
Gentle Repair — Someone suggests a no-meeting afternoon. Someone else shares a personal win. Trust begins to re-form. This is the phase where space matters most—give it, protect it, and don’t rush people through it.
Reconstruction — The team wants to start building again—but differently. They’re asking new questions. Reconsidering priorities. If you hear things like “I don’t want to go back to the way it was,” listen closely. This is your opportunity to redesign your norms.
Integration — This is where resilience becomes visible. People reference what they’ve learned. They speak up when things feel off. They protect their own energy—and notice when others are slipping. This is what sustainable looks like.
How to lead through it: name the phase, match the ask
Here’s what leaders often get wrong: they try to motivate a team in collapse. Or push for big decisions in the void. Recovery isn’t just personal—it’s contextual. The most useful thing you can do as a leader?
Name where your team is—and adjust your approach to meet them there.
- If your team is in overdrive, acknowledge the pace: “I see how hard everyone’s working. Let’s check our limits before we cross them.” Then back it up—audit goals, cancel non-critical meetings, and model rest.
- In the smolder, don’t brush past the quiet shift. Say: “The energy feels off lately. If you’re feeling it too, you’re not alone.” Create space for honest 1:1s. Ask better questions. Don’t try to “pep talk” them out of it.
- If you’ve hit collapse, be honest: “We’re not okay right now—and we don’t need to pretend we are.” Dial back the demands. Focus on care, not output. Model what it looks like to pause.
- In the void, resist the urge to fill the silence. Say: “It’s okay to not know what’s next. We don’t need to force clarity yet.” Use this time to reflect, not rush.
- During gentle repair, encourage what’s working: “Let’s notice what’s helping—and do more of that.” Support sustainable habits. Protect time. Celebrate slowness.
- In reconstruction, invite change: “If we could rebuild the way we work from scratch, what would we change?” Revisit your team’s norms and redesign systems to support new priorities.
- When your team reaches integration, hold the line: “Let’s hold onto what we’ve learned—and protect what we’ve rebuilt.” Reinforce boundaries. Reflect regularly. Stay alert for the early signs of overdrive.
When you’re at the end of your rope too
You can’t pour from an empty tank—but most leaders do anyway. I've been there—wanting to be anywhere else but there. You put one foot in front of the other, so to speak, in effort to demonstrate some form of stability.
If you're reading this and nodding because you are the one in overdrive or collapse, know this—you're not failing. You're human. And you’re likely absorbing more of your team’s stress than anyone realizes. Because you're supposed to have the answers, right? Because you're trying to hold the line. Because no one ever modeled what it looks like to lead while recovering.
Here's a hard earned pro-tip. If you're feeling this way, then your team is there right with you. Not because you said anything, but because leadership energy is contagious. When you're tapped out, people stop bringing ideas. Stop sharing bad news. They start protecting you—until you’re no longer getting the truth.
It's so hard to get out of that hole. So what do you do when you’ve got nothing left?
1. Name it—to yourself first. Burnout thrives in silence. Not naming it doesn't make it go away. Start with: “I’m not okay right now, and I don’t need to hide that.” That one sentence breaks the spell. Say it in your journal. Say it to a coach. Say it to a trusted peer. But say it out loud.
2. Shrink the horizon. You don’t need to fix everything. You just need to find the next foothold. What’s the smallest action you can take that moves you or your team toward relief? Cancel a meeting. Delegate one decision. Take a walk instead of grinding through your inbox. These aren’t escape hatches. They’re oxygen masks.
3. Signal safety, not certainty. Your team doesn’t need you to be invincible. They need to know it’s okay to be real. Try: “I’m working on getting my energy back. Here’s what I’m focusing on this week.” That kind of leadership doesn’t erode trust—it deepens it. It gives others permission to acknowledge where they are too.
4. Redistribute the load—out loud. You’re not carrying this alone. But if you don’t say anything, people will assume you want to. Ask directly:
- “Where can we pause right now without breaking trust?”
- “What can I hand off for a week?”
- “What’s one thing we can drop that no one will miss?”
Redistribution is not weakness—it’s wisdom.
5. Re-enter slowly, with intention. When you start to come back online, don’t default to old rhythms. Use your own recovery as a reset button. What boundaries helped? What conversations mattered? Bring those insights forward. Let your recovery shape your team’s.
Burnout doesn't disqualify you from leading. It makes you more human—if you let it. Start by telling the truth (to yourself, then others). Shrink your focus. Model slowness. Protect your energy like it's company infrastructure—because it is.
T L ; D R — Burnout doesn’t break teams all at once. It erodes them, quietly, in phases. The most powerful move you can make as a leader isn’t motivation—it’s recognition. Spot where your team is on the burnout spectrum, and lead from that place—not the one you wish you were in. And if you’re the one that’s burned out? That doesn’t disqualify you. It qualifies you to lead with truth. Start there. Everything else gets easier when people know they’re not alone.
