When you leave a “toxic” job, where does the burnout go?
I’d venture to say that unless you take an intentional and substantial break before your next role, it goes with you. Packed right alongside your personal effects, ready to join you on the next leg of your journey.
When I think about work cycles—my own and others’—there tends to be a familiar pattern.
You find a job that seems like a good fit. You like them, they like you. You show up with a mix of hope, anxiety, and excitement, eager to do good work and hopeful that things will work out.
And maybe they do, for a while.
You learn names, norms, and passwords. You have coffee chats and begin to understand who people are and what’s expected of you. Sometimes there’s even an extended honeymoon period—months, maybe a year—where things feel genuinely good.
And then you begin to see the cracks.
The toxicity slowly starts to seep out. People stop being polite and start telling you how they really feel about the organization, this person, or that person. Your workload quietly becomes untenable, but your supervisor is also stressed and overwhelmed, so they can’t really help.
Slowly, you realize you’re right back where you started: exhausted, overwhelmed, and looking for the exit.
But that burnout? The one you brought in with you? Still there. Somehow stronger and more deeply entrenched than before.
What you really need is time. A couple of weeks, at least, to decompress and release some of the tension, stress, disappointment, and exhaustion before pivoting into another position.
So when you enter the final stages of your next job negotiation, maybe you suggest a start date a month out. Two weeks to give notice to your old job, and two weeks for yourself.
The hiring manager counters with two weeks. You hear the urgency in their voice as they explain, “We’ve been looking for a while. We really need you ASAP.”
You hesitate.
You are truly depleted. You haven’t been sleeping well, and you don’t know how you’ll find the energy and focus to begin again without a break. But you need this job. You aren’t sure you can push back. You want to show that you’re “a team player.”
You could quit immediately, but you don’t want to burn a bridge or be labeled unprofessional.
So two weeks later, you say goodbye to your old job on a Friday, and you—accompanied by a now fully matured Burnout—clock in for duty at your new job the following Monday.
Sound familiar?
Now let’s look at this from the organizational perspective.
Think about how many new hires your organization has welcomed in the past year. With nonprofit turnover rates often exceeding 20%, chances are your team includes a number of people who walked through your doors very recently, already exhausted.
Many in our sector are on a merry-go-round of burnout.
Different organizations. Very similar experiences. And as a result, very similar outcomes across the sector.
In many ways, we are one ecosystem, sharing resources. And our most valuable resource—the people—are exhausted.
I don’t know anyone who does their best work from a state of constant depletion.
Can people push through extreme circumstances and accomplish amazing things? Absolutely.
Is there a cost to that sacrifice? Also absolutely.
The number of people in our sector living with stress-related illnesses, chronic pain, sleep deprivation, anxiety, and other health challenges is likely underreported—and quietly eroding the foundation of our work.
So what can we do?
One concrete shift we could make immediately is rethinking onboarding.
We should assume people need a decompression period to release where they’ve been before they walk through our doors as the newest member of our team.
In the best-case scenario, their departure was healthy and amicable. They’re leaving proud of their work and excited about what’s next.
Worst-case scenario, they are at their breaking point, and the departure was difficult, emotional, and long overdue.
Either way, they need rest.
Time for reflection. Good sleep. A full day in pajamas. A vacation—or at the very least, a slow, meandering walk to a café, park, or movie theater in the middle of a Tuesday.
A brief period where there is not a work email inbox waiting for their imminent return.
Let’s normalize offering at least one week of respite to all new hires before they join our teams. Two weeks is even better, if people can afford the time.
And before we write the idea off as unrealistic, let’s do a quick “this or that” exercise.
Think about the quality of work you did during the final days of a toxic job you couldn’t wait to leave. Is that the energy you want your newest team member bringing into your organization on Monday morning?
Now think about the quality of work you’ve done after an amazing vacation or sabbatical. Think about the clarity, creativity, patience, and energy you were able to access.
Which version of someone would you rather welcome onto your team?
And while we prepare for new team members, let’s take an honest look at our current staff.
Where are people in their own work cycles?
Who are we in danger of losing?
Where are people quietly struggling?
What contributors to burnout are we tolerating because they’ve become normalized?
Cycles can be broken when we recognize the patterns and commit to creating healthier systems.
Let’s shift our approach and get off the merry-go-round.
Healthy People Build Healthy Communities.
