How I Overcame Burnout and Rebuilt Resilience With Plants

I Felt Numb

I didn’t realize I was burned out until long after I was in it. At the time, I was working in tech, doing something I was good at — designing programs that helped people accelerate their careers, leading teams, hitting deadlines. On paper, it was everything I thought I wanted.

But inside, I was numb.

The spark I’d always felt for building and creating was gone. I dreaded meetings, not because of any one thing, but because the thought of discussing performance cycles and project milestones felt like a weight I could no longer carry. I was exhausted and had started asking myself: Is this it?

At the time, I didn’t have the language for burnout. I only knew that I couldn’t find my joy in work anymore — and worse, I couldn’t find much joy in anything.

The Turning Point

The clarity came unexpectedly, on a family camping trip to Orcas Island.

I was walking through an old-growth grove of Douglas firs when a voice echoed out of the forest like a bell: You are meant for something different.

That moment shook me awake. Suddenly, the numbness and fatigue made sense. It wasn’t that I had failed at the work — it was that the work no longer fit me. I wasn’t meant to keep pushing the same boulder up the same hill. It was time to turn my attention toward something else.

That awakening didn’t give me all the answers at once, but it did open my heart to the teachers who had been waiting for me all along: plants.

The Plants

It wasn’t one plant that carried me out of burnout — it was the many plants.

The forest showed me abundance. The way ferns unfurled without hesitation. The way Douglas firs rooted deeply, without apology. The way every being in the ecosystem belonged simply because it existed.

Plants don’t strive. They don’t measure their worth in productivity. They simply are. And that kind of soul-deep acceptance was something I hadn’t realized I was starving for.

The more I leaned into that relationship with plants — tending, listening, drinking tea, learning their medicine — the more I felt a spark returning. Not a quick fix, but a slow, steady rekindling.

Lasting Change

Since then, I’ve started measuring my life differently.

Instead of tracking productivity, I follow fire: Where do I feel alive? Where do I feel numb? I let that guide me, even when the next step isn’t clear.

I’ve learned to observe my own rhythms — when I create best, when I need rest — and plan my work around that instead of trying to grind through it. I trust my body more. I trust my intuition more.

And I’ve learned to recognize burnout not as failure, but as a signal. The biggest tell? When things that once felt generative start to feel like a chore. That’s when I know it’s time to pause, to ask: Who am I doing this for? And what would bring me back to life?

What I Want You to Know

If you’re in the thick of burnout, you may not recognize it until long after it’s set in. That’s how it was for me.

But I want you to know that numbness is not the end of your story. Joy is not lost forever. Sometimes the path back to yourself starts by sitting with a cup of tea, listening to the quiet wisdom of plants, or allowing yourself a moment of stillness in the forest.

Resilience isn’t about pushing harder. It’s about softening enough to hear the truth: you are meant for something different, something that allows you to belong fully to yourself.

Ready to Rebuild Your Resilience?

If this story resonates with you, know that you don’t have to navigate burnout alone.

Through The Reset, I help women who are exhausted, overextended, or simply numb reconnect with themselves. Together, we use plant wisdom, presence, and simple practices to create lasting resilience and a renewed sense of joy.

If you’re ready to step out of burnout and back into your life, I’d love to walk with you.

👉 Learn more about my plant-centered approach to burnout recovery