Leaving Teaching: Burnout, Identity, and Choosing Authenticity

Who am I?
That’s a question I still ask myself, especially as I discover new versions of me I didn’t even know existed.

For a long time, my identity was tied to my career. I only ever saw myself as a teacher, and that became my personality. The outfits. The constant mental load. Always thinking about work. Always worrying about work. Even my friend group, mostly teachers. Teaching wasn’t just what I did. It was who I was.

A few years ago, I finally graduated with my master’s degree. I landed my dream role: teaching teachers how to use STEM in their classrooms. I was thrilled. I couldn’t wait to get started. It felt like the moment I’d been building toward.

And then, a week before school started, I got COVID. During that same time, they told me the position would no longer exist. I would be back in the classroom.

It felt like someone let the wind out of my sails.

I remember thinking: Those students deserve a teacher who wants to be there.
And I just didn’t have it in me anymore.

Because teaching at least the version I was living, had a toxic martyrdom culture built into it. It was always about giving up your needs for the “greater good.” They don’t ask. They demand.

“Well maybe if you spent your Saturday lesson planning, you wouldn’t have a disruptive class.”
“Maybe if you didn’t take Monday off for your appointment, your students would respect you differently.”

The constant message was: put your needs aside to benefit the school.
And my body and mind knew they didn’t want to do that anymore.

But when you’re in the education system, leaving can feel like betrayal and they know that.They make you fear stepping away.

“But what will you do?”
“How are you going to leave the students?”
“What about your pension?”
“You’re not going to get another job once you leave.”

I tried not to let the scare tactics get to me. I put my head down and kept moving forward, even though I didn’t fully understand what was happening to me.

I just knew something was happening.

The part nobody talks about: the collapse after you leave

The first two weeks after I left, I didn’t get out of bed. I cried every day with the blankets over my head. I only felt safe hidden away from the world.

I had never been completely “on my own” before.

It was high school, then college, then teaching. Someone was always telling me what to do, what to aim for, what to prioritize. And now it was on me, me to tell myself what to do and how to build a life.

That reality hit hard.

I knew I needed to recalibrate. I didn’t want to jump into another job that would force me to put my personal needs on the back burner the way teaching did.

But I still needed money.

So I took nannying jobs, jobs that paid me more than teaching ever did and I realized I would be alright. I just needed to get my mind right. I needed to detox from the toxic environment I had called home for so long.

And I knew my identity would change. I could no longer let the “teacher persona” be my whole reality.

I needed to figure out who I was.

But how do you do that while trying to make ends meet while living in a new area that still feels unfamiliar?

My work was cut out for me.

Burnout recovery became my first mission

As I tried to make sense of what I was experiencing, I started reading articles and listening to podcasts about burnout. I learned that recovery isn’t quick. It isn’t neat. It can take real time.

So burnout recovery became my first mission. My new full-time job.

But there was a problem.

I was the kind of person who couldn’t sit still and relax, because slowing down would force me to confront things I wasn’t ready to face. Being busy had been a trauma response. And it was a trauma response I could no longer outrun.

It was time to release the abusive relationship the education system had become for me… and also face the ways I had allowed it.

And how some of that traced back to pain and patterns from my past that I had never wanted to fully look at.

The basement season in Baltimore

For months, I stayed in my basement bedroom in a Baltimore row home with two miserable roommates. I was alone. I was scared. I was unsure of who I was.

But I started doing small things. Not glamorous things. Real things.

I started journaling.
I started meditating.

And then I began going for walks around the park across the street every afternoon. It felt like a new religion. It also felt foreign, being out in the world when the rest of the world was “working.”

That’s when the questions started getting louder.

Who was I if I wasn’t a teacher?
Who was I as a person?
What did I want to get out of this life?

It was brutal to sit still and let those questions move through my mind. Brutal. But also… necessary.

My spiritual awakening didn’t come with fireworks

It came quietly.

During that time, I became closer to myself. I started feeling inner guidance I hadn’t turned toward before. Videos and books kept showing up in my path almost like they had been written for me.

So I decided to lean in. I decided to trust.

Little did I know that trust would become the start of a new life.

Those dark moments in the basement and in the park helped build the foundation for where I am today and where I’m moving next.

The shift was slow… and that’s the point

People love a clean transformation story. One big moment. One dramatic decision. One overnight glow-up.

But I can’t pinpoint the exact moment it changed, because it didn’t happen like that.

It was slow and gradual, as I unlearned unhealthy habits that had kept me tied to my old ways of thinking and living.

The shift started happening when I began trusting myself and accepting I would need to learn how to sail my own ship. I didn’t have to figure everything out overnight.

That alone brought me peace.

Three habits I’m still unlearning

People-pleasing
I stopped saying yes just because it suited someone else’s needs. I started asking: Does this serve me? Does this align with who I am becoming?

Overworking / hustle as worth
I stopped overextending myself in ways that left me overworked, underpaid, and burnt out. I no longer believe exhaustion is a badge of honor.

Tying my identity to productivity
This is still a work in progress, but I’m learning that my worth is not tied to my output. I’m valuable even when I’m resting. Even when I’m unsure. Even when I’m in transition.

What my life looks like now

Today, I’ve built routines that help me check in with my higher self and stay connected to what’s true for me.

I say yes to things that feel good and bring me joy, not yes out of obligation or fear.
I say no when something doesn’t serve the person I am and becoming.
My mornings include slow reflection time to connect with myself, so I show up for myself first before I show up for the world.

When I first left teaching, I decided I didn’t need to jump back into anything. I started tutoring as a way to bring in money and keep some of my teaching skill set alive while I figured out who I was and what the next step would be.

And then… creativity started coming back.

In a conversation with a friend who was dating, I had an idea for a workbook: Manifest Your Perfect Union. I started creating something that would help myself and others identify how we show up, what we truly want, and how to build and maintain healthier relationships.

In my meditations, I kept feeling urged to create. To try something new. Something I fought to share beyond my small circle at first… but something I knew was mine to build.

That’s how this chapter started.

What I wish someone told me

One thing I wish someone told me during that season is this:

“It’s okay to change as many times as you want in this life. It’s a blessing to do so each new change brings new awareness of yourself, and new versions you get to meet. You begin to see how strong and capable you truly are.”

That would have mattered to me back then.

Because transition can be isolating, especially when it looks like everyone online has it figured out. But a lot of people don’t have it figured out, they just took the chance of “why not me?” instead of “I could never do that.”

Change isn’t easy. But it is often necessary.

And I didn’t set out to inspire people. I really didn’t.
But the people who came to me and said, “I left because I saw you do it and be okay,” meant the world to me.

If my story does anything, I hope it does that: makes you feel less alone, and more brave.

If you’re in the thick of it

If you’re in burnout, depression, anxiety, or you’re struggling to feel safe in your own mind, please don’t try to carry it alone. Support can look like therapy, a trusted friend, a coach, a community, or a professional resource.

If you’re in the U.S. and you need immediate help, you can call or text 988 for the Suicide & Crisis Lifeline. You deserve care while you rebuild.

Where to go next

If this resonates, come find me and keep walking with me:
-Website: SolspireStudio.com
-TikTok: https://www.tiktok.com/@solspirestudio
-Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/solspirestudio/ 
-Facebook: @SolspireStudio

And if you want to explore the workbooks that grew out of this season:
-Manifest Your Perfect Union
-Love Letters to Yourself