From Burnout to Belonging: The Visionary Quest That Created The Compassion Collective
Creating a Social Enterprise to Empower Those Left Behind by Traditional Systems
Vision Quest: Reimagining Systems for an Inclusive Future
For much of my career, I excelled in executive leadership roles, bringing my expertise and dedication to senior-level positions. Most recently, I worked in a government role within the state of Oregon—a position I was more than qualified for. But despite my qualifications and the skills I brought to the table, I was unprepared for the unaccommodating work environment I encountered. As an autistic professional, I always felt the weight of a world not designed for someone like me, but this role pushed me to my limits.
The environment was rigid, unsupportive, and fundamentally incompatible with my neurodivergent needs. Despite my efforts to adapt, the pressure became unbearable. Eventually, I found myself in the throes of severe autistic burnout—a state so debilitating that it eroded my ability to function in even the most basic ways. This wasn’t just a personal struggle; it was a systemic failure to provide the necessary accommodations for someone in my position.
Leaving my job was not an easy decision, but it was a necessary one. My health and well-being were at stake, and continuing in that environment was no longer an option. But even after making the difficult choice to leave, the challenges didn’t end. I had to fight for my unemployment benefits, a battle that only added to my stress. The process was grueling, but in the end, the judge sided with me, agreeing that the workplace environment had been the catalyst for my burnout. The ruling was a vindication, affirming that my struggles were not a personal failure, but the result of a major systemic issue within the workplace.
With the judge’s decision in hand, I knew I needed to rebuild—not just for myself, but for others who might find themselves in similar situations. I realized that the traditional work environment was not just unaccommodating; it was fundamentally incompatible with the way I—and many others—function. This realization sparked a vision: the creation of a new kind of support system, one that would not just accommodate but empower individuals like me.
That’s when the idea of starting my own social enterprise began to take shape. I envisioned The Compassion Collective as a nonprofit foundation with a collaborative arm—a place where others like me could find the support and resources that traditional work environments failed to provide. This wasn’t just about creating a business; it was about reimagining the systems that had failed us and building something transformative, a lifeline where individuals could thrive outside the constraints of a world that wasn’t built for us.
With a clear vision in mind, I turned to Oregon’s Vocational Rehabilitation (VR) program, hoping to find the guidance and support I needed to bring The Compassion Collective to life. After all, this was a state-sponsored program designed to help individuals with disabilities find their footing in the workforce. Surely, I thought, they would have the resources to help someone with my background and aspirations.
But as I quickly discovered, the system was not equipped to handle someone like me. In the months that followed, I attended regular counseling sessions with my VR counselor—sessions that, while supportive on a personal level, offered little in the way of actionable assistance. It became increasingly clear that the program’s resources were geared towards traditional employment pathways, not the entrepreneurial journey I was embarking on.
When I inquired about resources to help me develop my nonprofit, I was met with resistance. My counselor informed me that taxpayers wouldn’t want to support someone building their own business. There were no mentors available who understood the unique challenges of someone at my level, and the idea of using VR resources to fund my venture was dismissed outright. I was left to navigate the complexities of starting a social enterprise on my own, without the guidance or support I had hoped for.
Around the same time, I joined the Self Employment Assistance (SEA) program, thinking it might provide the tools I needed to get my business off the ground. However, this program offered little more than a waiver from weekly job search requirements—there were no meaningful resources, no coaching, and no financial support. It was paperwork with zero substance, and it felt particularly unfair given that I was still grappling with the effects of burnout, which had left me struggling with executive dysfunction and cognitive regressions.
The roadblocks I encountered weren’t just frustrating—they were deeply discouraging. My burnout, which had already taken a significant toll on my mental and physical health, was prolonged by the stress of trying to navigate an ableist system that seemed intent on funneling me back into the very type of work environment that had led to my burnout in the first place.
But I wasn’t ready to give up. I knew that The Compassion Collective—the social enterprise I envisioned—had the potential to make a real difference. This wasn’t just a business; it was a lifeline, both for me and for others who had been marginalized by traditional work environments. The idea was simple yet powerful: a nonprofit foundation that would generate funds to support a collaborative, empowering individuals to pursue their passions and contribute to society in ways that align with their unique strengths and perspectives.
As state programs continued to fall short, I found the support I needed from a different source. The Compassion Collective became more than just a vision—it blossomed into a self-sustaining community where healing, growth, and affirmation flourished. Within this community, I discovered the strength that comes from collaboration and the power of compassionate communication. Surrounded by people who truly believed in the work we were doing, I found the affirmation I needed to keep moving forward.
Together, we pushed past obstacles, supporting one another every step of the way. The Collective wasn’t just a group of people—it was a lifeline, providing the kind of emotional and practical support that I had been searching for. With each milestone we achieved, including inching closer to attaining our nonprofit status, the journey felt all the more significant. It was within this community that I found not only the resources to build The Compassion Collective but also the healing and growth I needed to transform my vision into reality.
Reflecting on this journey, I can’t help but feel both proud and frustrated. Proud of what we’ve accomplished, despite the odds. Frustrated by a system that claims to support individuals with disabilities but fails to recognize the diverse ways in which we can contribute to society. The refusal to support entrepreneurial efforts, especially for those of us who have already experienced the burnout and exclusion that comes with traditional employment, is not just a personal setback—it’s a systemic failure.
My story is just one example of how the current vocational support structures are failing to meet the needs of individuals who don’t fit the conventional mold. It’s time for a change. We need to broaden our understanding of what it means to support people with disabilities, recognizing that for many of us, creating our own roles within society isn’t just a viable path—it’s a necessary one.
As The Compassion Collective moves closer to becoming an official nonprofit, I’m reminded of the power of community, resilience, and determination. While the state of Oregon may have denied us the resources we needed, we found another way forward. And that, to me, is the true essence of entrepreneurship: the ability to create something new, even when the world tells you it can’t be done.
Call to Action:
I urge policymakers and program administrators to rethink the scope of vocational rehabilitation services. We must broaden our understanding of what it means to support individuals with disabilities, recognizing that for many, creating their own role within society is not only a viable path but a necessary one. By expanding resources and support for entrepreneurial ventures, we can empower more individuals to contribute to society in meaningful ways, ultimately creating a more inclusive and dynamic economy.
Note to Readers:
Thank you for taking the time to read my story. It’s been a journey filled with challenges, growth, and a deep commitment to creating something meaningful—not just for myself, but for everyone who feels left out by traditional systems and structures. The Compassion Collective is more than just a social enterprise; it’s a community, a lifeline, and a space where we can all work together to build a more inclusive and supportive world.
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