From Burnout to Blueprint: Why Fifth Element exists

I Didn’t Create Fifth Element Because I Had a Clear Path. I Created It Because I Didn’t.

Fifth Element wasn’t born from certainty. It was built from rupture, reinvention, and a refusal to abandon truth. It’s not a brand. It’s a system—one forged through lived experience, relational failure, chronic illness, and the radical clarity that comes when you stop performing and start listening.

For more than twenty years, I was involved in the bodywork industry, assisting individuals in managing pain. I managed massage therapy teams, instructed in Reiki, and enhanced my comprehension of energetic presence. Due to burnout from being too successful, I transitioned into a career as a technology consultant. Eventually, as a senior manager, I incorporated psychological safety into leadership and guided junior employees through career changes. I observed individuals struggling under the pressure of roles they pursued and indifferent systems. Despite my attempts to shield my team from burnout, I experienced it repeatedly.

That was a turning point. I realized people weren’t faltering because they lacked skill. They were faltering because their systems were overloaded. Nervous system literacy, energetic integrity, and strategic clarity weren’t just helpful—they were essential. I began teaching containment and clarity as a method, not a mindset.

My first marriage taught me the cost of an unstructured ceremony. The vows were unprepared. The ring went on the wrong finger. The wedding felt more like a keg party than a rite of passage. I was devastated because I hadn’t known how much structure mattered to me until it was missing.

Later, I was introduced to relationship contracts—not through theory, but through a relationship that unraveled when clarity was proposed and then refused. We tried to write our values, boundaries, and repair protocols into a shared agreement. But when it came time to sign, they hesitated. That hesitation was a signal. The refusal to commit to clarity is itself a kind of clarity.

That experience shaped how I now approach relational design. Contracts aren’t just documents. They’re nervous system tools. They reveal readiness, create safety, and surface truth. When someone resists resilient structure, I ask: what are they protecting, and what are they avoiding?

My current marriage has been one of the most profound teachers of racial equity I’ve ever had. I have had to confront the ways dominant culture shows up in intimacy—through tone policing, urgency, control, and the myth of objectivity. It taught me that equity isn’t a concept. It’s a daily practice of repair, accountability, and listening beyond your own lens. That same lens now informs my coaching philosophy.

Living with a chronic illness has only strengthened this understanding. I used to tell others that "I am unsustainable" based on my experience as an American with a chronic condition navigating a profit-driven healthcare system. It is through this pain that I have learned that my body is a system with finite capacity. It cannot be maximized. It must be respected. This truth now guides Fifth Element's design: everything I create must be energetically sustainable, scalable, and grounded in collective care. I coach from this perspective — not despite my illness, but because of it.

Organizational Sustainability Is Relational

In my various roles within corporate sustainability strategy, I had the opportunity to gain a firsthand perspective on the dysfunction that is often inherent in extractive systems. These systems, which are designed to extract value from natural resources (which includes people!), frequently prioritize short-term gains over long-term sustainability, leading to a myriad of challenges that undermine their very objectives. I observed how goals were meticulously crafted based on their feasibility, often resulting in a narrow focus on targets that were easily achievable rather than those that truly addressed the pressing environmental and social issues at hand. This approach not only limited the potential impact of sustainability initiatives but also fostered a culture of complacency, where ambition was stifled in favor of meeting minimal expectations.

Moreover, I witnessed the troubling trend of funding being withdrawn from sustainability programs and executive sponsorship being removed, even as it was touted as a priority to investors. This lack of support occurred at critical moments when investment and sponsorship were necessary to drive meaningful change. As a result, initiatives that had the potential to create significant positive impacts were left to flounder, leading to frustration among team members who were passionate about making a difference. The constant threat of resource depletion and the subsequent withdrawal of financial backing created an environment of instability and uncertainty, which further exacerbated the challenges faced by the sustainability department.

As the pressures mounted, burnout became an all-too-common experience within the sustainability team. The relentless cycle of striving to meet unrealistic expectations, coupled with the withdrawal of support, led to a demoralizing work environment. Team members found themselves grappling with the emotional toll of their efforts being undermined, leading to high turnover rates and a loss of institutional knowledge. The passion that initially drove these individuals to pursue careers in sustainability gradually diminished, replaced by a sense of disillusionment and frustration.

I also witnessed a troubling transformation in the perception of sustainability within the organization. What was once a noble pursuit aimed at safeguarding the environment and fostering positive community relationships began to resemble a mere performance—a box to check rather than a genuine commitment to creating lasting change. This disconnect from the core relationships and values that sustainability was intended to uphold led to a dilution of the very principles that should have guided the strategy. Instead of fostering collaboration with stakeholders and communities, the focus shifted toward maintaining appearances and meeting superficial metrics. This shift not only compromised the integrity of sustainability efforts but also alienated those who were genuinely invested in the mission.

Sustainability is the ability to maintain resources over time without depletion. Resilience is the capacity to recover from disruption. Both are relational. Both require clarity, containment, and care. And both are undermined when organizations prioritize optics over integrity.

I’ve been burned out. I’ve been sidelined. I’ve been too honest.

And I’ve never stopped believing that authenticity is the only sustainable strategy.

Fifth Element is the system I built to hold that truth.

It’s not coaching as performance. It’s coaching as reclamation.

And if you’re ready to stop performing and start building—this is the work.

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