We Are Not Broken, The System Is- A Nurse’s Truth About Burnout

Emergency Department with multiple hospital beds.

I didn’t leave nursing because I stopped caring. I left because I cared too much, for too long, in a system that didn’t care back. I burned out. I broke down. I unraveled.

And in the midst of that pain, I started to wonder if I was the problem.

If you’re a nurse who’s ever felt that way, this post is for you.

The Unspoken Reality of Nurse Burnout

We hear a lot about nurse burnout, but too often it's reduced to surface-level advice like “practice self-care,” “take more breaks,” or “set better boundaries.” While those things sound great, they are not enough.

Because the truth is: burnout isn’t a personal failure. It’s a predictable outcome of working in a broken system.

Nurses are pushed past their limits every day — understaffed, overworked, and exposed to constant emotional and physical trauma. And yet we’re expected to keep showing up, keep smiling, and keep sacrificing without complaint.

We’re gaslit into believing that if we just tried harder, meditated more, or stayed positive, we could somehow thrive in environments that are actively harming us. But that’s not how healing works. And that’s not how systems change.

Women sitting on dry, cracked earth. Her hair is covering her face.

Behind the Burnout

Burnout is defined by emotional exhaustion, depersonalization, and a reduced sense of personal accomplishment. But behind those clinical terms are real people — nurses crying in their cars after 12-hour shifts, skipping meals, working through illness, and still being told they’re not doing enough.

Research consistently shows that nurse burnout is linked to:

Chronic understaffing and unsafe patient ratios
Lack of autonomy and leadership support
Moral distress from witnessing substandard care
Workplace bullying and lateral violence
Inadequate resources and mental health support

These are not personal shortcomings — they are systemic issues. Naming them is the first step toward reclaiming our power.

The Scope of the Problem

In 2021, JAMA published a study of 3.9 million nurses. Of those surveyed, 31.5% of RNs reported leaving their jobs in 2018 due to burnout.

That was before the pandemic.

Since then, it’s only gotten worse. According to the NCSBN’s report, “Examining the Impact of the COVID-19 Pandemic on Burnout & Stress among U.S. Nurses,”:

Over 100,000 RNs have already left the workforce
Another 610,000+ intend to leave by 2027
Nearly 189,000 RNs under age 40 report similar intentions
62% reported increased workload
50.8% felt emotionally drained
56.4% felt “used up”
49.7% felt fatigued
45.4% reported burnout
29.4% felt “at the end of their rope” weekly or daily

What’s even more alarming is that these numbers are worse among nurses with fewer than 10 years of experience!

Think about that for a moment — nurses who hadn’t even hit the decade mark were already feeling so depleted, disillusioned, and unsupported that many were walking away. It speaks volumes that so many nurses are leaving before they have even had the chance to grow into their roles fully — not because they lack passion or resilience, but because the environment makes it impossible to sustain.

Caduceus symbol. — Photo credit- Anne Nygard, via Unsplash

My Story

When I worked at a large hospital in New Mexico, I cared for patients who had been on the brink of death — many the victims of violence, tragic decisions, or both. Their stories were heavy. And many of these patients were not kind. Neither were some of the staff.

There’s a toxic culture in nursing that no one talks about enough — one where being “human” is seen as a weakness. If you miss something, you’re “incompetent.” If you speak up, you’re “too emotional.” If you ask for help, you’re “not cut out for it.” You’re constantly proving your worth — not just to patients, but to peers. And it never feels like enough.

Management only acknowledged us when something went wrong, when metrics weren’t met, or a survey loomed. You break your back just to care for others and pay your rent — and still, you’re either called out or dismissed.

Later, I worked in a small critical access hospital, hoping for relief. But with fewer staff, less support, and more expectations, the pressure only increased. I felt like I had to know everything, do everything, be everything. I felt inadequate every day.

When I transitioned into administration, I thought it would be a reprieve. It wasn’t. I saw how decisions were made — and how often clinical staff got the brunt of these decisions. I was seen as “the enemy” by staff, pressured by leadership to stay resilient (aka, silent), and told to choose between my family and my job.

There was no winning. Just deeper burnout.

Burnout: Common and Silenced

Burnout is everywhere in nursing. So why are we still whispering about it?

Partly because it’s been normalized. Feeling overwhelmed or numb becomes the baseline. And when everyone’s struggling, no one feels allowed to name it.

Then there’s shame. Admitting you’re burned out feels like admitting weakness. Vulnerability is often met with judgment — or worse, career consequences.

Healthcare systems downplay burnout, framing it as a personal issue rather than a systemic one. Unsafe staffing? Toxic environments? Leadership shrugs. Instead, we get pizza parties and QR codes for wellness apps.

Even broader culture romanticizes the nurse-as-hero — the selfless angel who works through trauma without complaint. But that narrative is dangerous. It erases our humanity and makes it harder to speak up.

Eye-Rolling Advice

Resources like the ANA often suggests the following for burnout:

Eat better
Exercise
Take time off/Take a vacation
Ask for help

Seriously?

Telling nurses to “eat healthy” or “take time off” while they’re drowning in charting, mandated overtime, and emotional exhaustion is borderline insulting.

And what time off are we talking about? Do you mean the PTO we used when our mental health and bodies couldn’t handle another 12-hour shift?

Basic self-care isn’t enough. The disconnect — from leadership, organizations, and society — is exactly why burnout is so common, normalized… and so ignored.

But it doesn’t have to stay that way.

What Nurses Really Need (Spoiler: It’s Not a Pizza Party)

We need:

Safe staffing ratios and protection from mandatory overtime
Trauma-informed leadership that listens and acts
Accessible, confidential, stigma-free mental health resources
Accountability for bullying, discrimination, and toxic behavior
A cultural shift that values rest, boundaries, and whole-person wellness

And we need space to grieve what we’ve lost, celebrate our resilience, and reimagine healing — individually and collectively.

You Are Not Alone — and You Are Not Broken

If you’ve been blaming yourself for not being able to “handle it,” please hear this:

· You are not weak. The system is unsustainable.

· You are not broken. You’re having a normal response to an abnormal environment.

· You are not alone. Many of us are waking up, speaking out, and choosing ourselves.

What Helped My Healing

I know not every nurse can just say “screw it” and walk away. I didn’t think I could either — until my mental health collapsed and I had no choice.

Healing didn’t come from a single therapy session or a bubble bath. It came from unlearning the lies:

-That my worth was tied to productivity.

-That asking for help was weakness.

-That sacrificing myself was noble.

It started with permission — the permission I gave myself to rest, to feel, to grieve, to disconnect. Journaling became my safe space. Breathwork, walks, grounding, and simply doing things with no outcome reminded me that I’m allowed to just be.

I surrounded myself with stories that echoed the truth:

I am not broken. The system is.

Reclaiming Who We Are

Healing has been about rediscovering who I am outside of the title "nurse." It’s been about dreaming again, creating again, and redefining what helping others can look like — without destroying myself in the process.

We nurses forget how dynamic and powerful we are. Our knowledge, compassion, and resilience don’t disappear when we step away from the bedside — they evolve. We still have so much to offer, in ways that honor us, too.

Healing isn’t linear. It might begin with a whisper… or a crash. Either way, the first step is allowing ourselves to believe there’s another way.

Conclusion

If you’re reading this, maybe you’re standing at the edge of burnout — or maybe you’ve already crossed it. Maybe you’ve been in nursing for 5, 10, 30 years and feel numb to it all.

Wherever you are, hear me clearly:

You are not weak. You are not a failure. You are not alone.

The system failed you — not the other way around.

Burnout is not your fault. It’s a human response to an harsh reality. You deserve to take care of yourself the way you’ve taken care of others for so long.

Colorful flowers growing from cracks of dry, hard dirt.

A Journal for Burned-Out Nurses

This is just the beginning. I’ll be sharing more stories, resources, and tools for nurses who are healing, redefining themselves, or simply trying to breathe again. If that’s something you need, stay connected.

I am also developing a journal specifically for nurses in burnout — a space to reflect, to reconnect, to remember you’re not broken. A gentle companion to help you reclaim the parts of yourself buried under exhaustion and pressure.

Leave a comment below — I would love to hear your story! You don’t have to walk this path alone.

Your healing matters. Your story matters.

And you still have so much left to give — especially to yourself.