Mentor, Not Martyr: Stop Setting Yourself on Fire to Keep the Team Warm
Let’s be honest—half of us are one poorly timed group text away from a breakdown, and yet we’re still the ones showing up early, staying late, and checking in on everyone else.
The Unseen Weight We Carry
You’re the one they go to when something hits the fan.
You’re the calm in chaos. The fixer. The sounding board.
But here’s what they don’t see:
The emotional exhaustion of always being the support system
The guilt when you take a break
The weight of holding it together for a whole damn squad while falling apart in your car
This is Not the Job Description
Somewhere along the line, “mentor” got confused with “emotional trash can.”
You can lead. You can coach. You can care.
But you are not required to absorb everyone else’s anxiety, trauma, or incompetence just because you’re capable.
Martyrdom is not leadership. It’s burnout wearing lipstick.
What Mentorship Should Look Like
Let’s flip the script:
Share your story—but don’t bleed out in front of them.
Teach resilience, not self-sacrifice.
Model boundaries like your badge depends on it.
Check in without taking on.
You don’t have to be a doormat to be a mentor. Sometimes mentorship sounds like,
“I’m here for you. But I need a moment for me first.”
Burnout is Not a Badge of Honor
You don’t win awards for being the most exhausted.
You don’t get promoted for swallowing your pain.
You’re not stronger because you didn’t cry.
We don’t need heroes. We need healthy leaders.
Don’t Set Yourself on Fire. Hand Them a Damn Flashlight.
Lead them. Guide them. Empower them.
But don’t destroy yourself for a system that will replace you in a week if you collapse.
Your value is not in how much you suffer—it’s in how much you model survival.
So breathe. Unplug. Say no. Rest.
And remind yourself: You are not here to burn out. You are here to blaze trails.