From Burnout to Balance:

Building a Bridge for Healthcare Workers

written by Katy Johnson

Founder & Director, RN & aspiring yogi

My birthday is this weekend. If you know me, you know I love birthdays - mine and everyone else’s. Sure, some of that is just me being me, but the deeper reason is this: after working in pediatric hematology/oncology, I learned that turning 41 isn’t a guarantee. For some of my patients, turning 21 wasn’t.

That career taught me many things, but one lesson has stayed with me: every birthday is worth celebrating. Because to age is to live - and while living isn’t always easy, it always beats the alternative.

I walked away from those 15 years with lifelong friends, stories that broke my heart and restored my faith in humanity, and a kind of professional resilience that only nurses know. But I also walked away carrying something else: unspoken trauma.

It took leaving patient care, years of therapy, and finally watching it ripple into my loved ones’ lives before I could name it: PTSD. At first, I resisted. I told myself I’d gone soft. I shamed myself for feeling.

But in one pivotal moment, watching my sister walk alongside someone enduring unimaginable loss, the walls I’d built to survive my job snapped back into place. And for once, instead of shutting down, I stopped. I told myself what I should have known all along:

“You haven’t gone soft. Seeing children die for a living is not normal. You were never supposed to hold it all and pretend it was okay.”

That was the seed of Reciprocity.

It didn’t bloom overnight. Before the 2024 Super Bowl, I was in a very dark place - crawling from one therapy session and one yoga class to the next, wondering why the sadness still clung to me. Finally, when I suggested to my therapist that maybe, just maybe, it was my years at Children’s Mercy catching up with me, she agreed. And once I named it, the pieces clicked into place.

I want to be clear: not everyone in these high-burnout, emotionally heavy roles walks away with PTSD. This is just my story. My career collided with years of neglecting my own health, ignoring my body, mind, and my own intuition, and not realizing that I needed more support than I allowed myself.

Because here’s the truth: you can’t keep pouring from an empty cup.

While I was still processing all of this, tragedy struck again - the shooting at the Chiefs Super Bowl rally. My sister, once again, became a source of light in the darkness for others. And once again, I felt helpless. The thought of her carrying it all, so soon after another loss, was too much.

So I did the only thing I knew to do: I went to yoga.

On the drive to Sweatheory, I prayed for peace - not knowing what else to ask for. When the instructor announced that the intention for class was peace, I knew I was exactly where I needed to be.

That studio had been a home to me for years, through divorce, grief, and rediscovery. More often than not, the instructors seemed to know exactly what my body and soul needed. That night was no different.

After class, physically renewed but emotionally raw, I pulled out my phone and started typing in my notes app. What spilled out was messy, unpolished, but alive. And just like me, nearly 40 years earlier, a work in progress with a lot of potential was born.

And here’s the heart of it: the ones who continue to show up, day after day, and hold the light for others in their darkest hours - they need to be held too. There is no shortage of healthcare providers who could use extra support to avoid burnout. And from these first few months of building Reciprocity, I’ve learned there is also no shortage of people who want to help.

Reciprocity exists to be the bridge between the two.

If this resonates with you, I invite you to join us: follow along on social, share our mission, and, if you’re able, support through a donation. Together, we can help the healers keep their cups full - so they can keep pouring into the world.

Disclaimer:
The views, thoughts, and opinions expressed in this post belong solely to the author and do not necessarily reflect those of Reciprocity KC or its partners. The content is intended for personal storytelling and reflection and should not be interpreted as representing the organization’s official positions or policies.