The tired ones, and why boundaries are professional

I want to talk about the people who leave.

Over the years, I have watched a lot of good educators walk away from this work: colleagues I once stood beside on the floor, students I taught thirteen years ago, and people I studied with back in 2010. Most of them still loved working with children: watch them grow, support their learning. They left because they were exhausted. No one had informed them that exhaustion was a workplace issue and not a personal failing.

I know that tiredness from the inside. There was a stretch where I fell asleep anywhere I sat down, missed appointments, and caught every illness going around. I developed asthma and chronic allergies during those years. I walked into a glass door once, and I tripped over toys more often than I would like to admit, because I was moving through my days half awake. At night I took the documentation home and lay awake planning the next week in my head. I was completely drained, and I was calling it commitment.

Here is what I understand now that I did not understand then. There are two traps waiting for us, and both look like virtue.

The first is the one Anne Stonehouse pointed to, the belief that we are “nice ladies who love children”. It sounds like a compliment. It also strips the profession of its knowledge, its training and its claim to fair conditions, because love is treated as its own reward.

The other trap is the superhero, the educator who absorbs everything, sets no limits, and treats their own depletion as proof of how much they care.

Self-care is what protects you from both traps and keeps you in the work for the long run. By self-care, I mean something practical and often uncomfortable. This includes being assertive at work and knowing your rights and your award. It also involves speaking up about ratios, breaks, workload, and pay, both in your own centre and across the wider profession. Protecting your health is part of your professional practice. A drained educator cannot do this work well. Often, they cannot stay in it.

So here is what I would ask you to think about. Where in your work have you been told, in words or in silence, that caring means having no limits? What changes if you treat your own wellbeing as part of your professionalism? Consider it a necessity rather than a reward once everyone else is looked after.

Storykate ๐Ÿช‡๐Ÿ’Œ

When it is too much on your plate…

There was a year in my career as an early childhood educator that I now think of as one of the darkest. Not dramatic. Just heavy.

In that same year, I became a single mother. I was adjusting to a new long-daycare environment, learning new routines, new expectations, new relationships. My body was struggling. I had frequent migraines. I was exhausted in a way that sleep did not fix. I was also made redundant from another role. On top of this, I was trying to hold together paid work, part-time tutoring, writing, and caring for an eight-year-old child who needed stability, presence, and love.

It was too much.

I remember falling asleep everywhere. On the couch. Sitting upright. Sometimes between tasks. At the time, I did not have the language for it, but now I know these were signs of burnout, nervous system overload, and quiet anxiety. Many educators will recognise this state. You are still functioning, still caring, still showing up, but your body is waving a small white flag.

What helped me during this time was not a quick fix. It did not remove the struggle or magically give me more energy. What helped was a shift in how I related to myself.

I began reading Brenรฉ Brownโ€™s work, and I devoured it. Her writing on shame, vulnerability, and wholeheartedness gave me language for experiences I had never named before. Brown writes that shame thrives in silence and self-judgement, while empathy and connection loosen its grip (Brown, 2012). That idea alone was a turning point. I realised how harsh my inner voice had become, especially around not coping โ€œwell enoughโ€.

At the same time, I was listening to audiobooks and talks through Sounds True. I listened to Kristin Neff, Tara Brach, Pema Chรถdrรถn, and other Buddhist teachers. These teachings did not ask me to be positive or strong. They asked me to be honest.

Kristin Neffโ€™s work on self-compassion was especially grounding. She explains that self-compassion involves three core elements: kindness towards oneself, recognition of common humanity, and mindful awareness of suffering (Neff, 2011). This mattered deeply to me. Instead of asking, โ€œWhat is wrong with me?โ€, I slowly learned to ask, โ€œThis is hard. How can I respond with care?โ€

Pema Chรถdrรถnโ€™s teachings added another layer. She speaks about staying with discomfort rather than running from it, and about the courage to remain open even when life feels uncertain (Chรถdrรถn, 2006). That idea did not make my life easier, but it made it more spacious. I stopped fighting my exhaustion as a personal failure. I started seeing it as a signal.

These ideas did not remove my need for rest. They did not make the workload lighter. But they helped me stay afloat.

Here are a few takeaways that carried me through, and that I now share with other educators.

First, suffering does not mean you are weak or unsuited to this profession. Caring work is emotionally demanding by nature. As Neff reminds us, struggle is part of being human, not a personal flaw (Neff, 2011).

Second, self-compassion is not self-indulgence. It is a form of responsibility. Brenรฉ Brown argues that sustainable care for others begins with honesty and boundaries, not self-sacrifice at all costs (Brown, 2010). For educators, this matters. You cannot pour endlessly from an empty cup.

Third, you do not need to fix yourself before you are worthy of rest or kindness. Pema Chรถdrรถn writes about meeting ourselves exactly as we are, without waiting for improvement (Chรถdrรถn, 2006). That idea was radical for me. It allowed me to pause without guilt.

I am sharing this not because everyone will be walking the same path I did, but because many educators are quietly carrying more than they show. If you are feeling tired, overwhelmed, or disconnected from the joy that once brought you into this profession, you are not alone.

You are doing meaningful work in a caring profession. You deserve the same compassion you offer to children every day.

Sometimes staying afloat is enough.

Your Storykate

P.S. Here are links to the books

https://amzn.to/4rb6fRN

https://amzn.to/457QRgn

https://amzn.to/3Z8H06j

References

Brown, B. (2010). The gifts of imperfection. Hazelden.

Brown, B. (2012). Daring greatly. Gotham Books.

Chรถdrรถn, P. (2006). The places that scare you. Shambhala.

Neff, K. (2011). Self-compassion: The proven power of being kind to yourself. William Morrow.

Early Childhood Educators’ Burtout is real

Have you ever come home from work feeling empty, like you used everything inside you just to get through the day? You try to smile, plan, and engage, but your energy is gone. Maybe your heart isnโ€™t in it like it used to be. If thatโ€™s happening often, you might be edging toward burnout. I experienced burnout after 5 years of working as an educator, completing my degree and raising a child. It was tough.

Burnout in early childhood education is more than โ€œjust being tiredโ€. It is a creeping drain on your passion, energy, and wellbeing. In Australia, it is not just anecdotal. Recent studies show educators are being stretched thinner than ever.

What the Research in Australia Says

As you know, I love evidence-based information.

  • A recent national survey of 570 early childhood educators found that more than three-quarters work an average of nine unpaid hours per week, and educators spend less than 30% of their day in uninterrupted interaction with children. (sydney.edu.au)
  • In a systematic review of 39 global studies (including those from Australia), burnout risk increased when educators had low social capital, weak organisational support, lack of career progression, and poor workplace relationships. (iier.org.au)

In other words, the workplaces were toxic, the status of the profession is low (we are undervalued), we feel unsupported at workplace and we feel stuck.

  • During the COVID-19 period, Australian ECEC leaders reported the sector being pushed into โ€œburnout centralโ€, having to adapt constantly, manage change, and deal with increased stress and staff turnover. (researchers.mq.edu.au)
  • Teachers across Australia are reporting mental health impacts at levels three times the national norm, with 90% of teachers indicating significant stress, and about 70% calling their workload โ€œunmanageableโ€. (unsw.edu.au)

So yes, you are not imagining it. The system is pushing many educators to their limits.

๐Ÿ” Scientific signs of burnout in ECEC

These are the red flags you can notice in yourself before things get worse:

  1. Emotional exhaustion
    You feel depleted, drained, or like you have nothing left to give at the end of the day.
  2. Irritability and low tolerance
    Behaviours that used to feel normal now trigger you. You find it harder to respond calmly.
  3. Loss of enthusiasm or cynicism
    You start doubting your work, questioning your purpose, or feeling โ€œwhy bother?โ€.
  4. Physical symptoms
    Headaches, digestive problems, sleep troubles, tension. Your body is telling you something.
  5. Reduced performance or mistakes
    You miss details, procrastinate more, and forget things you normally wouldnโ€™t.
  6. Emotional withdrawal
    You avoid staff room talk, stop collaborating, or pull back from relationships at work.

๐Ÿ“ Quick Self-Check Quiz

Answer the following with Yes or No:

  • Do I often feel emotionally drained after a โ€œnormalโ€ workday?
  • Have I become more negative or cynical about my role?
  • Is it hard to switch off from work when Iโ€™m home or during weekends?
  • Have I skipped breaks, meals, or rest just to get through the day?
  • Do I feel less effective at my job than I did before?

Interpretation:

  • 4โ€“5 Yes = strong signs of burnout, take action now.
  • 2โ€“3 Yes = you are under strain, a reset is urgent.
  • 0โ€“1 Yes = you are doing okay for now, but check in often.

๐ŸŒฑ 5 Ways to Reset

  1. Micro-breaks
    Even 60 to 120 seconds of deep breathing, stepping outside, or pausing to notice your surroundings can calm your system.
  2. Set boundaries
    Decide: โ€œI will not do observations after 7 pmโ€ or โ€œNo work on Sunday mornings.โ€ Do not WORK at home!
  3. Lean on your network
    Talk with your colleagues, get a buddy, use supervision or coaching. You donโ€™t have to solve everything solo.
  4. Reflect with journaling or logs
    Each day, write one thing that went well and one thing you found hard. Over time, you will see patterns and growth.
  5. Seek structural support or professional help
    If your service offers counselling, mentoring, or wellbeing programs, use them. Coaching, reflection, and counselling have shown effectiveness in reducing burnout risks in ECEC settings. (iier.org.au)

If you resonated with the quiz results, donโ€™t wait for burnout to get worse. Pick just one of the five reset actions above and try it this week.