It's Not the Hours: Why Burnout Hits the Ones Who Care Most

I used to work in tech before I became a therapist, so I know (just a little bit) about burnout. I’ve lived it—and recovered from it. And there’s one stand-out trait I’ve seen time and time again that lands tech workers into the burnout zone (and my office). It’s how much they care. Not just that they want to do well in their job, or make their boss happy (and in some cases, that is the opposite of true), but that they want to do the right thing—for the customer, for their coworker, for the culture. It’s the ones with a strong moral compass and sense of justice that tech most often chews up and spits out. The ones worried about the impact on other people if they don’t get it right.

Now, that’s a pretty damning statement I just made. It brings up a whole host of questions about the culture of tech and who ultimately “makes it” in the field. But nevertheless, I find that it holds. Over, and over, and over. If you care about something strongly enough, you fight for it. And fighting for something is not a well-tolerated behavior in many startups.

Many years ago, I found myself in a meeting held in the cafeteria—no walls, no privacy, half the office within earshot—where we were planning for the quarters ahead. I don’t remember exactly what the catalyst for it was, but at some point I stood up and began to advocate for the areas of the product and code base I knew we needed to actually invest in. I say advocate, but… I think it was seen as “fighting for” or “pushing back on.” After that meeting, in a 1x1 with my direct manager, he said to me, “I cannot have that again.”

It was a vague threat, of sorts. My certainty and my willingness to stand up on behalf of myself, my colleagues (many of whom privately agreed with me), and my customers was actively being discouraged. “I cannot have that again,” he repeated. I paused and chose my words very carefully before responding. It felt like a trap, and I was not about to agree to his terms.

I tell you that story not to relive the glory days (trust me, they did not feel glorious) or to pump myself up. By then, I was already well beyond burnout—many months in, running on emotional fumes, trying to do right by my customers, my colleagues, and, I sincerely believed, the company itself. That meeting wasn't the breaking point. It was a last gasp. And of course, nothing changed. I left shortly after (much to the relief of my manager, I suspect).

Working hard is one thing. Working hard while being ignored, belittled, undermined, or gaslit? That breeds disillusionment, resentment, and—sometimes—deep depression. It’s not just the long hours. It's not just tending to the backlog, interviewing customers, collaborating with design, jumping on research calls, answering questions, helping with tickets. It’s being asked to do all of that without the respect, good faith, and psychological safety (let alone job safety)—that’s the problem.

If you didn’t care so much, it wouldn’t hurt so badly. If you didn’t care so much, it would’ve been easier to stop working at 5:30. If you didn’t care so much, you might’ve quit sooner. If you didn’t care so much, you would’ve been able to “leave it all at work.”

But you DO care. And that’s an amazing thing. We need more people in this world with the capacity to care deeply. It’s not the caring that landed you in burnout—it was your environment. I see you.