For years, I have asked a simple question at the heart of my work and my life. 

 

 

It began as a personal inquiry. A refusal to accept work wounds and exhaustion were just the cost of modern work. It became the name of my podcast, a philosophy, and in many ways the foundation of Executive Unschool® and Work Recovery™ with the invitation to look for the good because in orienting our attention to what is good we often find more hope, joy, and reconnection to self. 

 

 

Not in theory. Not in a workshop. Or by hecklers online. 

 

But in the lived experiences of my neighbors. In classrooms. In school offices. In community spaces. In the bodies of Minnesotans carrying fear, uncertainty, and an unsustainable level of acute stress.

 

The things happening here in Minnesota have brought this rupture close to home for me as a former lawyer. Institutions I was taught to trust. Laws I believed would protect. Policies I assumed were guardrails. It's been a painful awakening to discover in real time that these structures are not as reliable as I was promised in law school.

 

There is grief in that. And feelings of profound betrayal. The kind that does not just live in the mind, but in the nervous system.

 

When that happens, leadership changes. Work changes. The question is no longer how do I optimize performance or achieve my 2026 goals. It becomes how do I stay human inside what is happening.

 

For me, the path through has not been to debate whether, how, or why. It has been action. And community care.

 

 

Over the past few weeks I have sat with teachers who are burning out at a pace no professional development day can solve. I have supported non-profit organizers who have not had a full exhale in weeks. I have worked with other helpers who are carrying the weight of stories they cannot unhear. Many are doing their jobs while also becoming informal first responders for emotional overwhelm in their communities.

 

This is where Work Recovery stops being a concept and becomes a lifeline.

 

Regulation practices in staff rooms before the day begins. Short grounding sequences between hard conversations. Language for naming what grief at work actually feels like. Permission to pause without apology. Small rituals to close the day so the nervous system does not carry every story home.

 

 

And this is where the work of Executive Unschool is being unschooled too. 

 

 

In times of rupture, leadership becomes less about certainty and more about presence. Less about having answers and more about holding space. Less about driving harder and more about knowing when to soften.

 

This moment is reshaping what it means for me to do this work. What it means to lead. What it means to belong to a community and support it in the midst of unimaginable pain.

For me, the question how good can it get has not disappeared or been rendered useless. It has simply matured.

 

More often, I have come to realize that the answer to how good can it get is found in caring for each other when the systems we trusted fall short.

 

Because sometimes the best care we can give ourselves is to step up and care for one another.

 

With you in it, 

Bree Johnson

 

 

Glassdoor recently named fatigue the defining workplace trend, drawn from thousands of employee posts saying the same thing: people are tired. Layoffs, cuts, and constant change have left teams doing more with less. Burnout is no longer an exception. It’s the baseline.

 

As 2026 arrives with little reprieve in sight, people leaders can look beyond performance metrics and notice what’s happening in their teams. Withdrawal, irritability, quiet resignation. Your people are tired. Responding to that reality is now a core leadership responsibility.

 

Source: ‘Fatigue’ is Glassdoor's word of the year, CNBC