The Mantle

What I was praised for growing up, and why I’ve come to believe those same choices and behaviors caused me to burnout

Somewhere in the middle of that phone call with my mom, I felt a burning rise in my throat. Not because I was angry. But as the words kept coming out of my mouth, I felt this resolution building. I knew, in my bones, how true this was.

I am the eldest daughter. I’m the eldest granddaughter, at least on one side of the family. My whole life has been filled with expectations about the standard I was meant to set for my sisters and for everyone around me. I felt like my achievements, and who I became, were ultimately a reflection of my parents and how much pride it brought for them in helping me succeed. My grades needed to be As because Bs left too much room for improvement.

That’s a pretty fucking heavy mantle to carry.

I’m not angry about that. I’m not. But I also recognize it. In my quest to be the standard, to be the dream, and as a Black woman feeling the innate pressure to be twice as good in order to be seen as worthy, I’d be lying if I said it didn’t shape how I move through the world. It shaped how I saw my choices, too. Every one of them became a reflection of my worth.

I could be ambitious, but not too ambitious, because I had to be nice and likable. My drive needed to be softer than it was for others because I couldn’t be the angry one.

Looking back, I can see how much I learned to read a room. To pick up on what people needed from me and adjust my response, even when I didn’t agree with what was happening. It helped me get through a lot of situations. It made me strategic. It may even have sharpened my empathy.

But it also left me with a question. How much of myself was I changing to make other people comfortable? And what did that cost me?

Here’s where it gets interesting.

The things I was praised for as a child, as a teenager, as a young woman … then as a clinician, and a wife and a mother …. those are the very same things that led to my burnout.

I think we all do some version of this. We take on patterns, protective identities, because of what’s expected of us. Because we want to be valued. Because we want to be held up as an example of a good person. Because we want to be loved. Because we want to feel safe.

And for the most part, it works. It does exactly what it needs to do.

Until it doesn’t. Until the balance between what the world takes from you and what you are able to keep for yourself no longer aligns. That mismatch is where burnout lives.

It was important to me that my mom heard this next part clearly. I’m not blaming her. I’m not blaming my dad. They did the best they could, and I believe that fully.

Different women of different times were raised with different expectations. My mom is part of a generation that is very used to putting their heads down and getting it done, regardless of what it costs them. I’m grateful for her sacrifices, and for everything she gave so I could have a good life.

That life is what gave me the privilege of doing both things: picking up the work ethic and sense of integrity I took from my parents, and also recognizing that I have the ability to self-actualize.

Shifting that balance, from giving in excess to keeping something for myself, was my choice to make. Nobody else could make it for me.

And it doesn’t make me selfish. It doesn’t make me lazy. I can do all of those things and still be a good person.

So, spill it: what were you praised for? And how much of it are you still carrying because somewhere along the way, you learned that’s what made you good?