High performance” has long been the gold standard of success in Australian workplaces. It’s what we hire for, train for, and reward. But lately, it’s become clear that there’s a quiet trade-off behind those numbers, metrics, and milestones. Because when performance is pursued without pause — when productivity becomes identity — it comes at a human cost.
Every team has that one person — the steady one. The calm voice in the storm. The leader, manager, or colleague who quietly keeps things running, who notices the details others miss, who holds space when everyone else is overwhelmed.
Resilience” has become one of the most overused words in the modern workplace.
We hear it everywhere — in leadership programs, HR strategies, even job ads. But what if the way we talk about resilience is quietly contributing to the very burnout we’re trying to prevent?
Every organisation talks about managing change. Few talk about feeling it. Behind every restructure, new system, or strategic shift are real humans — with uncertainty, hope, and often quiet fear. For leaders, guiding people through change isn’t just a communication exercise. It’s an emotional one
Every organisation talks about managing change. Few talk about feeling it. Behind every restructure, new system, or strategic shift are real humans — with uncertainty, hope, and often quiet fear. For leaders, guiding people through change isn’t just a communication exercise. It’s an emotional one.
Contentment, or the state of being content, is about peaceful satisfaction. It involves appreciating what you have and where you are in life, rather than wishing things were different. Of course, I’m not saying you should simply settle for a life that doesn’t bring you joy. Rather, you should continue to dream big, set goals for yourself, and work towards them diligently – just remember to enjoy the journey and not rush to make it happen.
“Burnout" is a term often used to describe feelings of desperation, extreme stress, and the inability to continue with, or loss of interest in, scheduled activities. Sufferers of "holiday burnout" are often overwhelmed by the perceived extra demands and expectations associated with preparation for, and celebration of, the holiday season.
You've spent eight or nine hours at your desk, except for a quick break for lunch. You've made progress. It's been a good day. So why do you feel you should be doing more? This anxious feeling – that we're never doing enough – where does it come from? Is it a modern affliction? One brought on by social media and screen-scrolling?
