This first-person account is adapted from an extended conversation with Wilma Ramony de Souza, a 37-year-old professional whose experiences unfold across some of the most competitive arenas in global finance. Business Insider has verified her professional background and confirmed her former positions at JPMorgan. The narrative that follows has been carefully shaped for thoroughness and readability, though all core events and perspectives remain true to her recollections. JPMorgan declined to provide a comment regarding this story.
Having grown up in Maceió—a sun-bleached coastal city in northeastern Brazil known for its beaches and rhythmic culture—I could never have envisioned that my professional path would one day lead me to the heart of one of the most powerful and influential financial institutions in the world. My youth was defined by the sound of the sea, local traditions, and modest dreams. Yet a series of professional opportunities gradually expanded my universe. After dedicating four formative years to the Brazilian Financial and Capital Markets Association, an esteemed institution that cultivates financial literacy and market development, a trusted colleague extended an invitation that would drastically change my trajectory: to join him at JPMorgan. At just 24, I accepted with nervous excitement and became an analyst at the firm’s São Paulo branch.
Stepping into that marble-floored corporate environment felt almost surreal, as if I had wandered into a dream that had once seemed completely unattainable. I often asked myself how I had managed to earn a place there—especially given that, years earlier, I had been rejected when I applied for an internship with the same firm. About a year into my tenure, fate brought into my orbit a woman whose commanding presence, colorful sense of style, and distinctly Spanish accent immediately drew attention. Her energy was contagious; there was a fierce intelligence and an unspoken solidarity between us from the beginning. She later invited me to join her team in a front-office role as her very first hire, an appointment that would prove transformative. She became not only my supervisor but also a generous mentor whose guidance shaped the next 12 years of my professional life. Our synergy as a team became one of the most meaningful aspects of my career.
Within our division, people affectionately dubbed us the “cowgirls.” The nickname, both playful and symbolic, captured our situation perfectly: two foreign women navigating an American financial giant while trying to break new ground in Latin America’s largely male-dominated corporate landscape. The label became a badge of pride—a quiet acknowledgment of both our outsider status and our resilience.
JPMorgan, in its vast structure, played a pivotal role in refining my corporate identity. The bank offered comprehensive programs in areas ranging from cross-cultural communication and corporate etiquette to leadership development, technical mastery, and linguistic precision. The immersion was, at times, overwhelming, but invaluable. Over the years, I learned to translate American business approaches into something that felt natural within Brazil’s more informal, relationship-driven culture. My manager and I brought an unconventional taste to the business: we forged client relationships built on emotional intelligence, authenticity, and long-term trust. Although some colleagues appreciated our distinct style, others resisted it, preferring tradition over innovation. The first fifteen minutes of any meeting often felt like a proving ground—a test where my competence, credibility, and authority had to be asserted swiftly and convincingly.
Standing just under five feet two inches tall, blonde, and in my mid-twenties, I often faced subtle skepticism from male counterparts in trading rooms. There was an unspoken question hovering in the air: how could someone who looked so youthful be performing at such a high level? The scrutiny became so pervasive that, even after undergoing corrective laser eye surgery, I continued wearing glasses to project an impression of maturity and seriousness. In a world where confidence and credibility could hinge on the smallest details, these symbolic gestures mattered.
Our team specialized in investor services in Brazil, working closely with companies and investment funds. Much of the client bonding took place in traditionally masculine settings—barbecue dinners, golf games, and nights out at clubs. I quickly realized that, to thrive, I had to relate to these experiences, to converse fluently about them without compromising who I was. Travel, initially, symbolized the freedom and prestige of international finance. I journeyed across Brazilian cities, then to global hubs, captivated by the privilege of mobility. Yet that same constant motion became emotionally draining. My typical workday stretched from nine in the morning to seven in the evening, although late nights often extended into the early hours. Over time, the relentless rhythm began to erode parts of my personal life. My six-year relationship eventually collapsed; I missed family events—birthdays, holidays, and Mother’s Day dinners—and vacation time no longer felt like rest, only recovery.
Financially, I was thriving. My compensation afforded luxuries I had once only dreamed of, yet the cost was invisible but heavy: I had no energy left for hobbies, no time for the gym. When weekends arrived, I tried to compensate—pushing myself to exhaustion in sports, then spending money at spas or on acupuncture sessions just to feel momentarily restored. It was an endless attempt to fix the imbalance that success had quietly imposed.
The achievements, however, were intoxicating. Each promotion, each major client win, felt like a surge of adrenaline. My boss and I began securing increasingly influential accounts, working tirelessly to open them, even approving documents at one in the morning if necessary. The more we accomplished, the more ambitious we became. Yet visibility brought pressure. Recognition felt exhilarating, but it also magnified every misstep. As expectations grew, perfection became the unspoken standard.
In 2019, I transferred to New York City to take on a Vice President role—a move that promised growth but also tested every fiber of my resilience. Suddenly, my familiar context disappeared. In the “eye of the storm” that was Manhattan’s financial world, I had to reinvent myself once again as a foreign woman proving her competence among global elites. Just months later, the pandemic upended everything. Relocating temporarily to Miami offered relief but fractured routine. When offices reopened, I found myself commuting between states, until JPMorgan requested that I either return full-time to New York or consider new opportunities. That moment forced self-reflection. I began exploring roles on the private banking side and, ultimately, decided to move to London with my partner. Informing my mentor of this decision was emotionally painful; I felt disloyal, even though deep down I knew I did not aspire to inherit her position or emulate the life of a Managing Director. My goals were shifting toward balance and authenticity rather than hierarchy.
Even before my relocation, subtle signals of burnout had appeared. In December 2022, during the management of a major transaction, I experienced a mild panic attack at the office—an alarming moment when my body refused to ignore what my mind had been rationalizing for years. My personal relationship was faltering, and my family, especially my mother, worried that my career might permanently keep me away from home. That anxiety confirmed what I already suspected: despite all my accomplishments, I was losing touch with myself. The institution would always have more challenges, more deals, more promotions to offer—but it was up to me to recognize my limits. Yet acknowledging exhaustion in such an environment felt taboo; seeking help could be mistaken for weakness.
Arriving in London in 2023 compounded those sentiments. The cultural atmosphere felt restrained compared to Brazil’s warmth or even New York’s dynamism. The weather was cool and gray, and social interactions were polite but distant. Building genuine friendships was harder, and professional gratification dwindled. Fatigue evolved into something deeper: a persistent sadness that eventually became depression. Some mornings, I felt physically unwell just sitting at my desk. The spark that had always driven me—the optimism that anything was possible—had dimmed.
Therapy became both refuge and revelation. Over the course of a year, I examined how much of my identity had been entwined with performance, status, and recognition. By the time I gathered the courage to resign, I no longer needed a perfect plan or a backup role. One ordinary day, I walked into my boss’s office and voiced the truth that had been building inside me: I needed to leave. The decision felt both terrifying and liberating. I did not blame London, nor corporate management, nor any single event. I recognized my own responsibility for having carried years of unprocessed ambition and unresolved fatigue.
When I finally left in November 2024, I was adrift. Without the daily rhythm of meetings, deadlines, and goals, I wondered who I truly was when stripped of my professional title. For months, I traveled—six in total—aimlessly but intentionally, exploring both new places and my own identity. For years, I had introduced myself as “Wilma from JPMorgan,” but now I was simply Wilma, rediscovering the contours of a self long neglected.
Looking back, I harbor no regrets about those 14 years. They were filled with challenge, intensity, and sacrifice, but also with extraordinary learning. The experience taught me that genuine excellence arises not only from ambition, but from the courage to evolve and from an awareness of when to pause. Today, having settled primarily in Miami, I serve as a CEO and founder of a consulting firm dedicated to helping startup founders and small-business leaders. In a graceful full-circle moment, I even refer some of my clients to JPMorgan—the very institution that once shaped and tested me. The difference is that now, my definition of success includes not only achievement but also wholeness, balance, and joy.
Sourse: https://www.businessinsider.com/jpmorgan-banker-shares-burnout-lessons-2025-10
