The Breaking Point: How Burnout, Anxiety, and Silence Led Me to Save Myself

An auditor’s life is not easy.

You have to be tough. You must be built to meet deadlines—no matter what. You need to maintain good relationships with your clients, your managers, and your fellow staff. And if you’re in a Big 4 firm, the pressure multiplies. Everything is fast-paced. But despite the speed, you’re still expected to ensure quality in everything you do. Client deadlines are sacred.

Sometimes, you go home only to nap and shower—then you’re back at work again.

I loved the challenge… for a while.

Despite the chaos, I liked the challenge. I enjoyed learning about different companies, engaging with clients, earning their respect during fieldwork, and the sense of satisfaction after meeting tight deadlines.

Audit took me to places I never thought I’d see. It helped me move across countries. I had always dreamed of living abroad, of breaking away from my life in the Philippines. And I did it—because of audit.

Looking back now, I realize how far I’ve come. Because of this profession, I’m here in Ireland. I’ve traveled to countries I never thought I’d set foot in. I’ve seen sights I once only admired on postcards. Audit filled my life with adventure and purpose.

…But I’ll never forget the days I wanted to quit.

There were days I didn’t want to show up to work—afraid that quitting might mean being sent back home.

Days when I was pushed to do more, even though I was already at my breaking point.

Nights where I worked straight through without sleep, only to realize the task was still far from finished.

Days when managers questioned my charged hours—even though I didn’t bill all the time I actually worked.

I remember the look of disappointment on my manager’s face when I couldn’t resolve an issue fast enough. And yet, I kept going. I told myself: “Push through. Just a little longer.”

I didn’t realize the worst was still ahead.

When I knew it was time to walk away

One night, I woke up at 3 a.m. with a sharp pain in my chest. I couldn’t breathe.

I brushed it off—once.

But it happened again the next night.

And the next.

Then it happened during lunch in the office.

After three consecutive nights of that same terrifying pain, I knew I had to talk to someone.

I booked an online consultation with a doctor. She asked about my sleep, my work environment, and my stress levels. And then it hit me:

The constant pressure.

The dread of facing my manager.

The anxiety before daily calls.

The fear of disappointing someone who never even offered help—only criticism.

She suspected panic attacks—but to be sure, she referred me to A&E for tests.

The diagnosis that changed everything

The results came back: my heart was okay. My chest was clear.

But I was severely anemic.

That’s when I realized—I hadn’t had a normal menstrual cycle in months.

I had ignored it. I thought it was just irregular periods. I was too busy to pay attention to what my body was trying to tell me.

I didn’t return to work after that week.

My doctor told me: “You need more time.”

I was officially diagnosed with anxiety. I was prescribed medication to help calm me down and let me sleep at night. I started therapy—something I never imagined myself doing. I cried during my first session, finally releasing everything I had bottled up for years.

At the same time, I began medical treatment and underwent scans.

That’s when I found out I had a uterine fibroid—the cause of the abnormal bleeding and severe cramps I had been experiencing.

I had ignored my health for so long just to keep up with the pressure.

A new path, and unexpected peace

I took the time I needed to heal. I stayed in therapy. And during one session, my therapist gently told me:

“You may need to change your environment to fully recover.”

That scared me.

I was on a Stamp 1 visa in Ireland. No job sponsor meant I’d have to leave and return to the Philippines. That’s how the Critical Skills Permit works.

But then—unexpectedly—I got a job offer from a mid-tier firm.

They offered to sponsor my visa, support my ACCA exams, and even cover my course fees.

I said yes. That same week, I handed in my resignation.

And just like that, I felt peace—something I hadn’t felt in years.

The silence that confirmed everything

While I was on extended leave, my manager never reached out. Not even once.

A senior manager I considered a friend? He didn’t ask how I was either. He only showed concern for the work I left behind.

That’s when I realized:

They never cared about me.

They only cared about the job. The deadlines. Their own promotions and recognition.

I was disappointed—but I was free.

Free from people who saw me as a resource, not a human being.

Free from a system that nearly broke me.

And most of all—free to reclaim my life.

If You’re Reading This

If you’re reading this and something inside you feels heavy… like you’re barely holding on—listen to that voice.

Check in with yourself.

Is this job giving you life—or is it slowly taking it away?

There’s strength in staying.

But there’s also strength in walking away.

Know when it’s time to abandon the ship.

And when you do—make sure it’s to save yourself.