Today I realize how it could have come to this: The separation from my husband, who had cheated on me, was not long ago. I had just plucked up all my courage for a new start, moved from Neuss to Düsseldorf and started as a team leader in marketing at a fashion company.

New city, new job: I wanted to prove to everyone that I still had the fighting spirit that my friends admired in me. In truth, I was more vulnerable than ever.

My new boss instilled respect in me. I didn't know that about myself: no one used to intimidate me so quickly, but this woman hit me right in the heart with her demanding voice and icy gaze. I didn't let it show and worked through all the tasks with determination. And there were quite a few.

From the very first week, I worked a lot of overtime. One evening, when no one else was in the office, my boss stuck her head through my door. I thought she was going to say something appreciative. Instead, her face darkened: "Are you still not finished?" she asked. "That must be quicker."

I felt like I was falling into a deep hole. In every job so far, I had been in control of the situation, even under stress. How could I fail like this now? I felt miserable, especially as I returned to an empty apartment exhausted night after night.

Then I remembered: I was a fighter after all. I would fight my way through, as always. So many weeks went by in which one day was like the next and I regularly took home things that had been left lying around. I often wrote concepts until after midnight, even at the weekend, for hours on end. This won me the approval of my boss and I soon convinced myself that I was indispensable to the company. There was no time for hobbies or making friends. My life revolved around my job. I felt important and needed there.

Until my body and soul put me in my place. I held out for ten months, then I couldn't sleep at night and could hardly get out of bed in the morning. I suffered from headaches, the writing on the paper blurred before my eyes, I was tired all the time. I made mistakes and suddenly the old fear of not making it returned. When my boss criticized me again, I was gripped by a feeling of futility: what was all the effort for?

I felt small and powerless.

"Inga, be honest with yourself at last. It can't go on like this," said my best friend Grit on the phone one Sunday. Due to time constraints, I had ignored many of her calls. This time I answered and then it burst out of me: it was true, I couldn't go on like this. I was no longer the strong one. I was lonely and didn't know what to do. It took some courage to admit that. To ask for help. Grit came to see me in Düsseldorf the same day and accompanied me to the doctor the next morning. Could I just stay away from work like that? I had to. He put me on sick leave and recommended a psychologist, who soon after diagnosed me with burnout and moderate depression.

That was a year ago. My life has changed a lot since then. I now go to therapy twice a week. It's the first time I've dealt with my far too high expectations of myself - and with the unprocessed pain of separation.

I relax with yoga and even have a new hobby: singing. Our choir rehearses twice a week and I've finally made new friends through it. And the job? I asked my boss for an interview. That took a lot of courage. I was afraid she would fire me. But I also knew that I never wanted to work the same way again . But she was surprisingly understanding. We agreed that I would only work 75%. I can cope with a lower salary: Enjoying life is priceless.