“Burnout doesn’t happen to people like me.” That’s what Shell Righini believed as she pushed through 15 years of high-pressure hospitality work. But burnout did happen — and it completely changed her life. Now, Shell is on a mission to raise awareness about the very real dangers of burnout in the hospitality industry. As the founder of the podcast We Recover Loudly, she’s an outspoken advocate for mental health and wellbeing in hospitality, drawing from her personal experiences with addiction, chronic illness, and the harsh realities of burnout. This month, Shell shares her deeply personal story as Tonic’s guest writer, shedding light on a topic the industry can no longer afford to ignore.
The Signs of Burnout and How to Avoid It
Burnout was not something I believed in. It was not mentioned to me in the workplace as something to be aware of, to take measures against, or, to be honest, ever spoken about. Even when I did learn a little bit more about it, I knew it was certainly nothing that was ever going to happen to me. It was for ‘weaker’ people, people not ‘resilient’ enough. I was built tougher than those who suffered. I mean, is burnout even really a thing?!
I had worked in hospitality at that point for 15 years. I’d opened over 30 restaurants and bars in London, Birmingham, and Worcester. I had trained and developed hundreds of people. I worked consistently over 70-hour weeks for over a decade. Yeah, it was stressful, but it was also what got me out of bed in the morning – the rush, the pumping adrenaline, the hustle, and the fight every day. I thrived in the environment, pushing with my team day in and day out to progress and improve on the previous day.
Working in hospitality was my identity. I had no days off from it, even when I was ‘off,’ I was on my phone. If you were to describe me, you would say, “Oh Shell, she works in restaurants…” and that’s it. I had nothing else. My team was my ‘family,’ and I thought that made me the best manager. I had no boundaries. I was there for them and the business 24/7. This was the reason I was put on this earth, this was my gift – I could hustle, and keep hustling, and nothing would stop me.
I’d not eat for an entire day, not sit down, not even use the toilet for hours. I would sleep 4-5 hours a night and then be right back to work. My legs would burn and my body would ache, but I pushed through. I kept going. Nothing would stop me. Burnout? That was for weak people. I was a WARRIOR, and every day at the restaurant was my battleground.
Then came COVID, and that was the catalyst to the complete breakdown of my life, my career, my body, and my mental health. That was when I learned that burnout is real. And that, in fact, it was my determination to push and fight myself through my breaking point day in and day out that had largely contributed to it.
There were a few key things that happened during COVID that, looking back, were signs I was in trouble:
IDENTITY AND WORTH
Working was all I had, and I tied my worth, my existence, to the fact that I was a senior manager of a restaurant. I had worked hard to get there. When COVID hit, we furloughed the team, and it was down to just myself and two other senior people. With no team to lead, I was no longer a manager; I was ‘just a cog’ in the machine. I went from running a full restaurant and team to washing dishes every day as we moved into a takeaway-only business during the first lockdown.
This loss of identity meant I started to feel detached and disconnected from myself, as I no longer knew who I was. I was not ‘Shell the manager’ … I did not want to be ‘Shell the potwash’ … Who was I? When you have nothing else to gauge your value and worth against, then when it is gone, you are left with nothing. I felt like nothing.
I started to question my purpose and felt completely unsure of my role at work or, in fact, if I would even have a job to go to each day, as the world churned with uncertainty. I started to feel numb. I could not connect with the things that once motivated and defined me, as they were gone. I lost my passion, and I felt detached from the things that I used to enjoy.
I can remember experiencing huge bouts of imposter syndrome, where I doubted my abilities and felt misaligned with everything I was doing at work. This made me question if I was ever even good at my job to start with. Was it all just a big farce this whole time?! Was I, in fact, ever any good at my job? I lost my sense of worth. I had completely connected my ability to work with my value in life, and as that disintegrated, so did my worth.
BOUNDARIES
I never had boundaries as a manager during my 15 years in hospitality. I constantly prioritised the needs of guests, staff, and the business without ever setting limits for myself. When we opened as a takeaway during COVID, the relentless pace meant even the minute amount of time I used to have for myself was gone. I was ALL in.
I had no personal life, nothing—just work. I never recharged. Looking back, this lack of balance started way before COVID and was indeed supported by how our industry operates. However, it was a massive factor in my burnout and something I look back on now and wish I had known how to say no.
CYNICISM
Looking back, I can see how cynical I had become, and in fact, I have since learned that cynicism can be one of the clearest signs of burnout. My passion for creating great guest experiences and leading a team had shifted into a sense of detachment and negativity, mainly because this was not something I was able to do anymore due to COVID restrictions.
It felt like no matter how hard I worked, it was never enough. The constant stress of long hours, demanding customers, and the high-pressure situation left me feeling jaded and angry. Over those first months of COVID, this cynicism made it increasingly hard to connect with the team, care about the job, or, to be honest, find any joy in what used to define me.
I hated coming to work, hated every task I was asked to do, hated the customers. I was constantly full of rage. I was a ticking time bomb to those around me. Again, looking back, I now know this was a sign that the emotional and mental toll of everything I was going through was catching up with me—one that I sadly missed back then.
ADDICTION
I never had an issue with alcohol, as I worked in hospitality … so I drank like everyone else did, right? It is a hard environment to work in, so the promise of evening drinks was normally the only thing that kept me and the team going. My relationship with alcohol had been like this since I could remember – a reward for a hard shift, the thing I grabbed when stressed. If I was upset, I knew a drink would fix it … and I did this in plain sight with the rest of my teams.
However, 2020 was the year it really crossed over for me. While over the years there had been times when I was struggling not to drink daily, I had managed each time to pull myself out of those depths eventually – apologise to people, change jobs, move cities – and be back to drinking like a ‘normal hospitality worker’ … which I now know is a very unhealthy place to be.
Over this period, though, is when I crossed the line and could not get myself back. Drinking was daily – stress, pain, anger, frustration, sadness, grief – I was drinking on it all. It is another clear sign to me now, looking back, how many times I had come close to breaking point over the years, and how, as my alcohol consumption had increased, how much closer I was to burnout so many times before.
AND THEN IT ALL BURNT DOWN
I remember distinctly in November 2020, reaching down to get something from a low shelf and struggling to get back up. I thought it was really weird, as I had never struggled with that before. In fact, I had always been flexible and agile (the hypermobility diagnosis I received a couple of years ago definitely made sense).
I began to find getting out of bed harder and harder. Every morning, I felt like I had been hit by a bus—beaten, bruised, exhausted. Every part of me hurt. I would drink to get to sleep because I was in pain and wake up to continue the cycle.
I ended up losing my job due to drinking—which is another story—but even then, I carried on pushing myself through the pain to work. I never stopped because I was no one without my work. But, as the famous psychiatrist and author Bessel van der Kolk’s book title says, “The Body Keeps the Score.” My body could not take the pain anymore.
With sobriety came the realisation that I could no longer numb the symptoms, so I had to do something. Over the months, I was diagnosed with a crooked jaw from clenching my teeth at night due to stress and had to wear a night guard. I was told I had permanently damaged my vocal cords from overusing my voice when tired instead of resting it. I developed carpal tunnel in my wrists and hands.
I was mentally and physically broken. I was burnt out.
THE DIAGNOSIS
The worst of the diagnoses, however, was the eventual one of fibromyalgia. Fibromyalgia is a chronic condition characterised by widespread pain, tenderness, and fatigue, often accompanied by symptoms such as sleep disturbances, memory problems (sometimes called “fibro fog”), and mood changes. While the exact cause is unknown, it is believed that extreme stress is normally the root cause.
Looking back now, I can see it was a culmination of the years of abuse I had put my mind and body through that led me to this moment. The worst part of fibromyalgia is … there is nothing that can change it. I will always have this condition.
I wake up every day in pain. I am always exhausted. I cannot do many of the things I used to, especially work, as I cannot stand up for long periods. I get confused easily. I have gained a lot of weight. I can no longer work in the industry I love in the way I used to. Finding a position that I can do with this condition has so far been impossible.
This condition has stripped me of my entire identity. And it was all avoidable.
WHAT I WISH I KNEW
I wish I had known that burnout was real and what to look out for. I would do anything to turn back the clock and stop myself from getting to this point.
My future is very uncertain now. I am struggling to find consistent work or a career. My life, which was once so well mapped out, is gone. This does not have to be a negative, of course, as let’s be honest, the life I was leading was rubbish, and I would not want to go back there.
But I desperately wish I had known what I know now five years before I burned out, so I could have made the changes. I could still be enjoying a thriving and successful career in an industry I still hold dearly in my heart.
Much like I do with my experiences of addiction, I share this in the hope that by doing so, I can help others before they get to where I did. This was never going to happen to someone like me. I was not weak … I did not ‘burnout’ … until I did. SR
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Shell Righini’s journey is a wake-up call for the hospitality industry. Her story reveals the hidden cost of burnout, an issue that remains all too common in our sector. Shell has shared her insights at Midlands Hospitality Network events, and her advocacy work through the We Recover Loudly podcast is driving essential conversations around mental health, boundaries, and sustainable careers in hospitality.
We’re always on the lookout for passionate speakers, panellists, and experts to share their insights and help us create a healthier, thriving hospitality industry. Burnout is one of the biggest challenges we face, and the sector simply cannot thrive if the people within it are stretched to their limits.
If you’re passionate about building a more supportive and sustainable hospitality community, we’d love for you to join the conversation. Be part of the change at one of our upcoming Midlands Hospitality Network events-contact caitlin.allwood@tonictalent.com
If you’re ready to join the conversation about building a healthier, more supportive hospitality industry, reach out to Shell Righini at We Recover Loudly. Whether you’re seeking guidance, community, or resources, Shell is here to help. Contact her at hello@werecoverloudly.com to take the first step toward creating positive change.
