When Caring Becomes Damaging

I’ve been noticing a pattern. Maybe you have too.

The people who care the most at work — the ones who want to do the right thing — are the ones who end up paying the highest price.

I can’t tell you how many leaders I’ve coached who started their roles full of energy, determined to make a difference, but then later, sit across from me (or on a Zoom call) looking completely wrung out, questioning themselves. They don’t recognise the way they lead anymore.

Ironically these are the good ones. They are the thoughtful ones that any organisation should be bending over backwards to keep.

But instead? They’re burning out.

The Slow Burn

Interestingly it doesn’t usually happen in some big dramatic collapse. It’s usually a combination of little compromises, one after the other:

“Sure I can do that (as well as the full plate I’ve already got.)”

“I’ll tone down what I really think in that meeting, just to keep the peace.”

“I don’t agree with it but I’ll let this one go to avoid losing the war ”

And then, one day, you wake up and realise you don’t even sound like yourself anymore, let alone have the energy to do anything about it.

I’ve been there myself. I call it drifting. You don’t set out to lose your values. You just… edge away from them, little by little, until they’re not in sight.

When Your Own Brain Turns on You

The next thing I see happen is distortion. Leaders who used to be comfortable in their judgement (despite the inevitable uncertainty in today’s world) suddenly start to seriously doubt themselves.

“Maybe I am overreacting.”

“Maybe I’m too soft.”

“Maybe it’s me.”

Again, not only do I see this in my coachees but I’ve had those thoughts myself. The system pushes back against you often enough, and you start to wonder if you’re the problem.

That self-doubt is exhausting and it chips away at you quicker than you realise.

To the rescue…

And then there’s rescuing. If you’ve ever been “the responsible one” in your family, you know this one. In your head you know people need to make their own mistakes and tread their own path but…well…you can’t stand to see them fail.

Even though you know it’s harming everyone in the long run.

In organisations, it looks like this:

  • You step in to rewrite the report your team struggled with, because it has to be right.
  • You smooth things over with the client, even though it wasn’t your mistake.
  • You hold everyone’s stress — until you’re the one carrying all of it.

It’s noble because it’s helping others (at least on the surface) and it’s a way of adding value when our normal channel of adding value has become blocked. It’s completely unsustainable though.

Playing Small Just to Stay Safe

When that self-doubt settles in and the rescuing becomes self-defeating and draining, the inevitable next step is that I see brilliant, brave leaders shrink back. They stop speaking up, being visible and essentially stop being themselves.

Why? Because it feels safer. When every time you stick your neck out you get either ignored, undermined or smacked down, the temptation is to keep your head down. But when leaders shrink, everyone loses.

The Disappearing Act

And the final stage I’ve labelled self-sacrificing.

This is where people look fine on the outside — they’re still in the role, still doing the job — but on the inside they’re gone. They’ve given so much of themselves away that there’s nothing left. Sometimes they even manufacture the conditions for their escape, sometimes they metaphorically fall on their own sword but they are just a shell of themselves at this point.

Here’s the Thing

I don’t write this to depress you. I write it because if any of this sounds familiar, I want you to know two things:

  1. You’re not broken.
  2. You’re not alone.

There’s nothing wrong with you for caring. In fact, it’s your strength. The problem is when systems take and take and take, without giving you the space or support to stay grounded in yourself.

And I’ve been amazed at the sheer volume of people who, when I share this narrative, completely resonate with it. It’s scary and sad.

But…there is something we can do about it.