Alignment Over Endurance: The Leadership Lesson Burnout Taught Me
- Nov 12
- 3 min read
By Tekoah Boatner, HS-BCP, CNP, PMP
When I first stepped into the role of CEO at a nonprofit agency, I thought I understood what resilience meant. I had just moved back home to care for my aging mother, had a newborn baby, and was commuting up to two hours each way. My partner was out of work, and my salary was carrying our family. Most mornings started with changing my baby’s diaper, then my mother’s, before heading to work; pumping milk on the drive in, answering emails at red lights, and telling myself that if I just pushed harder, I could hold it all together.
I didn’t yet understand that survival isn’t the same as strength.
A few months into my leadership role, my mother passed away. I took a week off to grieve, because that’s what I thought a “strong leader” did, then went right back to work. Less than three months later, my father became ill. I was still managing a growing organization, raising two children, and driving between cities to care for him. I told myself this was what commitment looked like. I told myself this was leadership.
By 2020, the world shut down, and my father, by then living with me in Baton Rouge, passed away that same year, on my youngest son’s birthday. I kept going because stopping felt like failing. But eventually, my body made the decision for me. One morning, I sat in my car outside the office and couldn’t move. Not a panic attack. Just… nothing left to give.
That was my breaking point and the beginning of my transformation.
For the first time in years, I paused. I sought therapy. I started medication. I took nearly two months off work. My staff, whom I had spent years trying to protect from burnout, became the ones who held space for me to heal. And somewhere in that stillness, I realized I didn’t want to go back to “normal.” I wanted to rebuild a different way to live and lead.
What emerged from that season became the foundation of everything I do now: my frameworks for human-centered, liberation-focused leadership. I learned that the metrics we chase, growth, productivity, and performance, are meaningless if the people behind them are breaking. I learned that alignment matters more than endurance. That sometimes, the bravest thing a leader can do is rest.
The experience reframed how I view success. It’s not about how much we can carry, but how well we can stay connected to purpose, to people, and to ourselves. When I founded TKB Strategies and began coaching other executives and organizations, I carried that truth with me. We design systems that support thriving, not just surviving. We build cultures of care, not sacrifice. We talk openly about grief, boundaries, and rest as leadership skills.
The edge of success, I’ve learned, isn’t about pushing to your limits—it’s about knowing when to step back before you reach them. Real success is sustainable. It’s spacious. It’s the kind that leaves room for breath, family, and joy.
Burnout didn’t end my career; it rebuilt it. It forced me to reimagine leadership not as endurance, but as alignment. And in that realignment, I found a new definition of power: one rooted in wholeness, not hustle.
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