Redefining Success: A Journey Through Burnout to Self-discovery
By Francisco Teixeira Barbosa
Francisco Teixeira Barbosa is an oral surgeon, the founder of Periospot, and a digital communication expert with a focus on AI-driven innovations in implant dentistry and education. Follow him on X at @Cisco_research.
In the fall of 2017, I received an unexpected phone call. I felt chills as I saw the "+41" extension—a call from Switzerland. Being on the radar of a top Swiss company in the dental-care industry had been my goal for years.
Six weeks later, I received an offer to work for that Swiss company. It was one of the best moments in my life. The offer arrived mere hours before I was scheduled to give a lecture at one of the most important dental congresses in Spain. It provided extra motivation to deliver a stellar presentation, even though my efforts were on behalf of my soon-to-be-former company.
When I started my new position in January 2018, I felt I had finally achieved what I'd been working toward since earning my dental degree 16 years prior. It was my moment to give it my all, to create a new version of myself that could surpass my former self. The company deserved nothing less, and I couldn't let this opportunity go to waste.
But dreams achieved can be double-edged swords. As I stood at the threshold of this new chapter, I couldn't have imagined how this pinnacle of success would eventually push me to my limits. The very drive that propelled me forward would later become the force that nearly broke me.
Dreams realized, challenges unforeseen
When I joined the Swiss company, the stakes were high. The level of professionalism within the company catapulted me from my cozy "hammock of mediocrity" into a high-wire act without a safety net.
I found myself surrounded by the most skilled performers I'd ever encountered, all part of a grounded, collaborative troupe that felt more like Cirque du Soleil than a corporate cubicle farm. It felt incredibly fortunate to have scored a role in this spectacular show, at just the right moment, with the best ensemble imaginable.
I committed to evolving from a casual juggler of tasks into a world-class acrobat of corporate feats. In my first four years, I was promoted three times, despite facing difficulties like the Covid-19 pandemic and the growing pains of rapidly expanding our customer base with limited resources, all while maintaining quality.
Our strong leadership kept us motivated and united, even in the toughest times. I'll never forget our virtual morning coffees during the Covid lockdown, where we gathered over Teams with coffee and blankets to discuss anything but work.
After the pandemic, the company offered me the opportunity to move from Barcelona to Switzerland with my whole family—and I accepted. With five kids, it was no small feat to relocate the entire clan to a new country, where they faced unfamiliar languages and the challenge of making new friends. At the time, my wife had a general manager role in Spain, and she transitioned to working from home with a weekly international commute.
Our first six months in Switzerland were incredibly challenging. The children disliked their new school, the country, and the languages. Nothing seemed to please them except our escapes to Switzerland’s ski resorts, where they momentarily forgot about Barcelona, their old friends, and school.
The invisible descent
As my family began settling into our new normal, I started feeling "off.” I was oversleeping, consuming too much social media, gaining weight, and neglecting exercise. I found myself merely going through the motions at work, delivering just enough in a completely reactive mode.
As a dentist, I took the misguided step of self-diagnosing depression, and prescribing myself antidepressants. Eventually I resumed exercising, seeking a shortcut back to "normalcy." My situation improved superficially—I was running nearly 300 km per month, and lost about 15 kg in a couple of months. But my mental sharpness remained low. I tried to compensate by running even more, pushing to 400 km the next month.
When nothing seemed to work, I decided to seek professional help. I visited a psychiatrist for a proper assessment and medical review. His verdict was clear: "You are suffering from deep depression and burnout. You must stop immediately and go on sick leave for at least 15 days."
I laughed it off. I was willing to change medication and undergo weekly follow-ups, but two weeks off work? That wasn't for me.
It didn't take long for reality to catch up. I fainted in the shower, then on the stairs. I struggled to comprehend emails longer than two paragraphs and had to triple-check my own messages for coherence. One day, I found myself asking my eldest son to help me proofread a PDF before sending it out.
I hit rock bottom when I couldn't sleep for five consecutive nights. Suicidal thoughts began to creep in, held at bay only by thoughts of my young children. My wife found me in bed, crying, battling against myself. That day, she took me to a clinic, and I ended up hospitalized.
Facing the mirror: The path to healing
After a week in isolation, with only books and chocolate that my wife brought me, I started a new therapy regimen. My doctor suggested I go to a specialized clinic for full recovery, but I laughed it off again, insisting I'd be back at work in a month.
True to my word, I returned to my job after a month. My first task was updating my expense notes in the system. That task, which once took me 20 minutes, now consumed five hours. I broke down crying, fearing I would never be the same.
When my doctor once again asked if I was ready to consider a clinic for full recovery, my answer was a resounding, "Yes."
I spent nearly five months away from my family in a mental-health facility overlooking a beautiful lake, disconnected from the job I had thought would collapse without me. I returned home 20 kg heavier due to medication-induced snacking, and with a new beard that made me barely recognizable to my children.
My wife's first reaction—"You look unfuckable now"—was both shocking and oddly comforting, a slice of normalcy in a situation that felt anything but normal. As I hugged my children, reveling in their familiar warmth, a small voice in my head whispered, "This is just the beginning of your new 'you.' Now you're on your own. The only person who can truly heal you is yourself."
Familiar ground, unfamiliar self
I returned to work, but nothing was the same. Despite my best efforts, I was eventually laid off from the company where I had spent the last seven years of my life.
My initial reaction was a mix of frustration, rage, confusion, and denial. In the days that followed, however, I felt an unexpected sense of relief. I realized I had been trapped in a role that no longer suited me, devoid of purpose and creativity. As the last remaining member of my original team, I had ceased to be a true part of the company long ago, but hadn't recognized it.
After the layoff, I returned to the office one last time, to return my laptop and complete the HR checkout process. It was more challenging than I anticipated. I couldn't shake the thought that this would be the last time I'd see certain faces. Even my usual morning run and cold plunge in the river couldn't lift my spirits.
Everything came crashing down on my way to the office. Returning my belongings and saying final goodbyes to colleagues was tough. I couldn't help but hug the receptionist at the end.
In the days that followed, the feelings of sadness and emptiness persisted. No more 4 a.m. wake-ups. No more coding, reading, or writing. It was as if one of my nine lives had been spent. This wasn't just a job I lost; it was a part of my identity, a chunk of time I could never reclaim.
Navigating change: Lessons from a corporate journey
As I reflect on this chapter in my life, I'm struck by a profound sense of loss. It wasn’t just me who had changed. So had the corporate world I first entered seven years ago, with its promises and allure.
While I cherished my colleagues and the initial company culture, the rapid growth and success of our team led to frequent reorganizations, including three changes in my direct manager within 18 months. As my original team gradually dispersed, the values and spirit that initially drew me in began to fade.
More stable mentorship and clearer communication during these periods of transition might have helped me navigate them more successfully. It's a delicate balance for any growing company: maintaining the spirit that drives initial success while adapting to the demands of scale and change.
If I could do it over, I would have sought a new opportunity within the company as soon as I noticed the team dynamic changing dramatically. I would have trusted my instincts when the new leadership style didn't align with my vision, instead of trying to force myself to fit a mold that wasn't right for me.
As I look for my next opportunity, I’ve decided to use this time to learn new skills, engage with new people, and reconnect with my network. I’ve gotten back in the habit of waking up at 4 a.m. to code, read scientific papers, and write. And I’ve been cherishing every moment with my younger children.
The maturation of ambition: Rewriting personal definitions of success
This journey has shattered my preconceptions about success and fulfillment. It's not that I've discovered some profound truth about the importance of work-life balance or the value of relationships; these are things I've always known.
But while I understood intellectually that work wasn't everything, my actions told a different story. I had prioritized my professional goals to the point of obsession. I rationalized my growing demotivation and procrastination, attributing them to temporary stresses rather than systemic issues.
Through this experience, I've learned that success is a dynamic concept, evolving as we grow and mature. Being a slave to outdated definitions of success—formulated by younger, less experienced versions of ourselves—can be dangerous. The goals that drove my 24-year-old self are vastly different from what I value now at 45.
True fulfillment comes not from relentlessly pursuing a fixed goal, but from continuously aligning our actions with our evolving understanding of what truly matters in life. For my 45-year-old self, success is not just about corporate achievements; it's about maintaining a balanced life where professional ambitions coexist harmoniously with personal fulfillment and health.
To those who recognize themselves in my story, I would say: Listen to your body and mind. When you feel something is off, don't try to fix it by yourself. There are professionals out there who are equipped to tackle these situations and detect early stages of depression and burnout. Don't let yourself go to the limit.
Maintaining a disciplined routine for self-care can help. I encourage others to find their own non-negotiable practices that nurture their well-being. For me, it's a combination of physical activity, family time, and personal hobbies, like playing guitar and reading.
Only time will tell if this new version of myself is an improvement over the old. What's certain is that I can never go back to being the person I was before. The chapter of "life after corporate" isn't just beginning—it's being written by a changed man, one who's acutely aware of both his strengths and his limitations.