Suffering

Schedule a call with Bryant (click image)

As I pursued an Executive Coaching credential at Harvard, we were all asked as students, “What life experiences prepared you to be a coach?” I immediately deferred to my academic life, leadership roles, and military background—until it dawned on me that none of those prepared me as much as suffering did.

I’m a burnout survivor, and every day, I face the temptation to slip back into the deadly cycle of burnout.

We often take pride in our academic backgrounds and prestigious education, believing that classrooms and libraries supersede the school of life and experience. While academia is critical and a strong scholarly foundation is essential, nothing accelerates learning like pain, and nothing solidifies a lesson more than suffering.

Here is my short story of how suffering and pain have molded me, preparing me to serve high-performing executive leaders seeking to overcome burnout.

I was raised as an only child by two of the most resilient and determined parents—my father, a minister in the Presbyterian denomination, and my mother, who stayed home to raise me before later becoming an accountant. They had migrated from South America with a deep ambition for self-development and a dedication to serving people and organizations.

As a child, I was well-tempered, never got into trouble, and had no concept of detention or expulsion. In fact, the very idea of punishment was demoralizing because, deep inside, I longed to please others and prove my worthiness of acceptance. As I entered adolescence, I found myself striving to achieve more and accomplish great things—often for the sake of recognition. I genuinely enjoyed the pursuit of prestige and excellence, but that road came obstacles.

I was encouraged to join the military in light of my passion for service and patriotism and attend West Point (USMA), but instead, I chose the next best option and enrolled in Seton Hall University’s Commissioning Program. I dreamed of becoming a neurologist or neurosurgeon, but after failing to secure a spot in the military’s medical program in Bethesda, MD, I remained on my academic path, pursuing a dual major in psychology and psychiatric rehabilitation.

I commissioned as a Distinguished Military Graduate, ranking in the top 10% nationwide for my commissioning year. I was selected for my first-choice assignment as a Medical Service Corps Officer, stationed at Fort Bragg, home of Special Operations—where the most elite professionals operate.

My first medical assignment was as a Medical Evacuation Platoon Leader, responsible for coordinating the transportation of wounded casualties. I was later assigned as a Treatment Platoon Leader, overseeing their treatment and evacuation to higher levels of care—from the point of injury all the way to Walter Reed Army Medical Center. After demonstrating strong leadership and expertise, I was selected to work for a high-ranking Colonel as a Brigade Medical Planner. My final assignment placed me in charge of the health and well-being of 4,000 Soldiers across five clinics in five states—ensuring access to care and Soldier readiness.

But these highlights don’t capture the valleys—the raw realities of military life.

During my first two years as a junior officer, tragedy struck. In April 2014, my friend was shot in the neck during the Fort Hood shooting, where 19 other service members were wounded. I also witnessed Soldiers in my unit and surrounding units take their own lives due to PTSD, depression, and substance abuse. I had leaders break promises, act with ulterior motives, and withhold opportunities for professional growth. I once had a leader leave me in charge of the unit while they went skydiving—instead of allowing me to attend a leadership school that took me eight months to prepare for.

After honorably discharging as a Captain, I transitioned into executive leadership roles. That same year, another close friend—whom I had spoken to just days prior—was shot in the face in Afghanistan and killed, leaving behind his wife and four children.

Shortly after, my wife and I suffered a miscarriage, just as COVID-19 began reshaping the world. Amid these personal and global hardships, I faced another painful blow: while serving in an executive role, I was given no choice but to resign and sign a non-disclosure agreement after being the victim of an employer violating their Equal Opportunity and ADA policies.

And I have endured much more.

Suffering has a way of producing character, and character has a way of imparting hope. I can’t say I have arrived or have completely overcome burnout, but I have survived it. Today, I have a new mission—to teach leaders how to conquer burnout and excel in their leadership roles. No matter what life or people throw at you, you can wipe the blood off your face, give God praise, and move forward with purpose and vision. After all, no one endured more than Jesus—crucified and murdered, hated by the world, still despised and rejected even today. When darkness crouches at your door, remember: Christ is your light.

Thank you.

-Bryant Borges