The classic version: composed all day at work, then sharp with the people you love before eight o'clock. You are patient for three weeks and then one entirely reasonable request — someone asking what is for dinner — becomes genuinely intolerable. You apologize afterward and you mean it. Then the same conditions quietly reassemble themselves, and you watch it happen.
For high-achieving clients, stress usually hides inside competence, which is why it goes unaddressed for years. You are still delivering, so nobody sees the cost: dread before routine tasks, resentment toward people who have done nothing, Sunday afternoon anxiety that starts around four, and a recurring private fantasy about walking into the ocean with your phone. A full calendar does not disprove burnout. It is frequently the mechanism.
Anger comes in more than one flavor. Loud, cold, sarcastic, silent, or turned inward until it becomes something else entirely. It commonly protects hurt, fear, shame, helplessness, or a boundary you never believed you were allowed to state. Understanding what it protects does not excuse anything it has damaged. It gives us a real chance of changing it.
And then there is the flattened version of burnout, which people mistake for laziness in themselves and nothing else. You are not overwhelmed anymore. You are indifferent, which is worse, and slightly frightening if you used to care.