I’ve worked with enough teams and businesses over the years to notice a pattern that doesn’t get talked about enough: the quiet burnout of high-performing knowledge workers.

You know the type. The go-to person. The one who never misses a deadline, who picks up the slack without being asked, who somehow handles five projects at once while still helping others troubleshoot theirs. I’ve seen these people in almost every team I’ve worked with—hell, I’ve been that person at times—and what’s always struck me is how little anyone realizes when they start to fall apart.

The thing is, burnout doesn’t always show up the way we expect. It’s not always loud or obvious. There’s no dramatic outburst, no sudden absence. More often, it creeps in slowly and silently.

What usually happens is this: because someone is so reliable, they’re given more. Not maliciously—just by default. People trust them, and that trust becomes more work, more expectations, more pressure. And because they don’t complain, everyone assumes they’re handling it just fine.

But behind the scenes? They’re staying up late, skipping breaks, working weekends, and carrying an invisible mental load that no one else sees. And because they’re high performers, they set their own standards so high that they feel guilty for even thinking about slowing down.

I’ve sat with people in 1:1 conversations—calm, competent, solid contributors—who’ve told me they’re on the edge of quitting. Not because they hate the work, or the company, or the people. But because they feel like they can’t breathe. Because the pressure never lets up. Because every day feels like survival, and they don’t know how to ask for help without letting someone down.

That’s the part that hits hardest: they don’t want to let anyone down. So they stay quiet. They keep delivering. They burn out in silence.

The saddest part? When these people leave, teams are shocked. “I had no idea,” managers say. “They never said anything.” But we shouldn’t be waiting for someone to wave a red flag. By the time they do, it’s often too late.

I’ve started paying closer attention to the quiet ones who always deliver. I ask how they’re doing—not just in the “how’s the project?” sense, but in a more human way. I try to notice when someone hasn’t taken a break in weeks or when their creativity starts dipping. These aren’t always obvious signals, but they matter.

I’ve also learned that part of building sustainable teams is celebrating people not working themselves into the ground. Normalizing boundaries. Making it okay to say, “I’m at capacity.” And checking in not only when things are broken but while they’re still going smoothly—because that’s when the silent burnout starts.

If you’ve got a high-performer on your team, don’t assume they’re fine just because they’re not complaining. Look a little closer. Ask a little deeper. You might be surprised by what you find.