I used to believe hard work alone was enough. That if I kept pushing, kept proving, kept striving, everything would fall into place. That belief had carried me far — from the best schools in Turkey to a full college scholarship in the U.S., to board roles at some of the most powerful companies in the country. I was the poster child of achievement.
But life has a way of stopping you when you ignore its whispers for too long.
After years of holding executive roles, leading large teams, managing massive brands, and traveling more days than not — I began to crack. It started with the flu that wouldn’t go away. Then came the anxiety, the sleeplessness, the panic attacks. I felt like a balloon ready to burst, stretched to its limits and beyond.
I kept trying to fix it the only way I knew how: by working harder. I told myself it was just a phase, that I’d push through. But I wasn’t just tired — I was depleted. Something deeper was broken.
The turning point came during a particularly intense panic attack in a hotel room. I realized I could not go on like this, but what to do? And then I remembered something I’d long buried beneath the pressure: I had a choice. That’s when I decided to take a sabbatical — a word so foreign to Turkish corporate life at that time that I became known as "the crazy woman who left one of the best jobs in the country.” But I wasn’t running away. I was turning toward myself.
During my break, I immersed myself in yoga, transformational breathwork, and spiritual retreats. I learned about Ayurvedic healing, practiced energy work, sailed the Mediterranean, and — most importantly — I learned to slow down. I began to unpack the patterns that had led me to burnout: perfectionism, people-pleasing, never saying no, and a deep fear of being perceived as weak. In that space of healing, I rebuilt from the inside out. I began to lead myself first — not through force, but through love and care.
When I returned, I wasn’t just recovered. I was transformed. I came back with a new compass — one that didn’t point to achievement, but to enlightment. And that’s when I started to became a regenerative leader. A leader who nurtures rather than depletes. Who listens as much as she directs. Who knows that well-being isn’t a luxury — it’s a strategy. And I’m now so thankful for my burnout for being the best teacher I ever had. As I write these lines, I can imagine some of you might be struggling with similar issues. If you are, I invite you to remember, you have a choice, too.