Imagine yourself at five years old. It’s your first day of kindergarten. What thoughts were going through your head? What emotions were you feeling?
For many, it’s excitement. Maybe a little fear of being in a new place.
For me, it was a little different.
I was excited to start school, but that excitement was quickly overshadowed by the realization that I didn’t understand a word anyone was saying, not even the adults, and none of them looked like me.
I grew up in North Phoenix near Paradise Valley, and I still remember that first day clearly. I was one of the few Latino students, and I didn’t speak English. I was immediately moved to ELL classes. The shame that came with being “othered” was something most of my teachers couldn’t relate to. The majority of them were white, and they didn’t know what it felt like to be pulled from the classroom, separated from your peers, and miss out on critical courses because of the language you spoke at home.
Looking back, that experience is one I carry into this work every day. It’s what showed me how much representation truly matters, not just in who is in the room, but in who understands what it feels like to be in that room. Representation is more than looking like someone else. Lived experience plays just as big a role.
As a first-generation Mexican American and the oldest daughter, I’ve always taken my roles seriously, in my personal life and my professional one. I see myself, my parents, and my siblings in the communities we serve. Because of that, this work is deeply personal. And that’s what drew me to ALL In Education, whose mission is to ensure those most impacted by education inequities are the ones making decisions for all students. When I first read that mission statement, something in me felt deeply connected to it. I know my story is not unique, and that reality is exactly why this work matters.
And that’s exactly where things get complicated.
There have been days when work didn’t end when I logged off because my family needed help filling out a form, reviewing essays, or checking homework. The same drive that followed me into the office followed me home. Combined with the pressure to contribute and prove myself, hello imposter syndrome, it led me straight down the road of burnout. I’ve grown a lot as a professional and I’ve learned, with a few stumbles along the way, how to set and honor my boundaries. But I want to be clear: boundaries are not a lack of commitment. They are a form of leadership.
When you work in mission-driven organizations, it is very easy to lose yourself in the work. We don’t see it as abstract. We see ourselves, our families, and our communities in every program, every decision, every report. That connection fuels our passion and deepens our sense of responsibility. But when the work is this personal, we can start to lose sight of our own limits. It often starts small. Saying yes to one more project. Staying late. Wanting to be a team player. Over time, those habits build, and before you know it, your boundaries begin to disappear.
For me, burnout shows up mentally and physically. I lose sleep thinking about my to-do list. In more extreme stretches, I lose my appetite. Most of it is internalized, and I thought I hid it well. But my colleagues have told me they’ve seen it anyway. My eyes give me away. As the saying goes, “eyes are windows to the soul,” and in my case, they’re also the window to my burnout.
I encourage my team and colleagues to take time off and stay fully disconnected. For myself, I silence my notifications and sometimes delete work apps from my phone entirely to make sure I’m not tempted to “just check in.” When leaders model that behavior, it makes it safe for everyone else to do the same. Leadership has to demonstrate through action, not just words, that resting and setting boundaries is not only acceptable but a priority.
Mission-driven organizations have a responsibility to recognize and address early signs of burnout before it becomes a crisis. When we take care of our people, we take care of the mission. Staff who feel seen and supported are the ones who stay and the ones who continue moving the work forward with love and care. Some early signs of burnout include:
- A noticeable shift in attitude or energy
- Loss of motivation for work they once enjoyed
- Difficulty focusing, remembering, or completing tasks
- Increased absences or slower communication
- Withdrawing from colleagues or team activities
- Skipping meetings, events, or collaborative projects
- Oversensitivity or strong reactions to feedback
- Struggling to keep up with their usual workload
Too often, these behaviors get labeled as performance issues instead of signals that something deeper is happening. Getting to the root of it takes curiosity and care, and a genuine willingness to see the whole person in front of you. Taking care of our people can’t be left up to individuals alone. It has to be built into how we operate as a community, through meaningful time off, clear boundaries around communication, and leaders who show what balance actually looks like day to day.
Here are some ways organizations can show up for their people:
- Model healthy work habits from the top. When leadership sets boundaries, it gives everyone else permission to do the same.
- Protect time off and respect it when people take it.
- Keep an eye on workloads and adjust before things boil over.
- Set clear expectations around communication. Not everything is urgent.
- Train managers to recognize early signs of burnout. Awareness is the first step.
- Check in on your people, not just their performance. Ask how they are doing and mean it.
- Clarify priorities so your team knows where to focus their energy.
- Provide access to wellness and mental health support, and make sure people actually feel safe using it.
One of the most important lessons I’ve had to teach myself is this: joy is not a distraction from the mission. It is what sustains it.
In the last six months, I’ve gotten into baking sourdough bread, and there is something so satisfying about making a loaf and giving it away to someone I love. I love arts and crafts too, making and creating things with my hands just fills me up. My friends and I do paint nights and craft nights, and I treasure that time. Hot yoga is another source of joy for me. I love the challenge of learning a new posture or finally reaching its full expression. When I landed the full expression of a lying bow pose, I was on cloud nine. Sure, some of that might have been the heat, but I felt so accomplished. And above all of it, I am so grateful for the community I’ve built around me. My friends, family, and colleagues support me, cheer me on, and keep me grounded when I need it most.
When the work is this personal, it’s hard to separate your professional life from your personal one. But it’s imperative that we do. I’ve had to actively rewire my brain to understand that finding joy outside of work is not abandoning the cause. It’s what allows me to keep showing up for it. Choosing joy is how I stay grounded and how I make sure I have the capacity to continue showing up for this work with intention and care.
As a Latina working in the nonprofit sector, I love what I do and I believe deeply in the mission. But I’ve learned that I have to love my life outside of the work just as fiercely.
Joy is leadership.
Joy is resistance.
And joy is how we take care of ourselves so we can keep showing up to take care of others.