Unhooking our worth from our workload

Tying our identity with our output is a fast path to burnout, perfectionism and self-doubt. Let's start a conversation about another way forward.

The word humility, like the human, comes from humus, or earth. We are most human when we do no great things. We are not so important; we are simple dust and spirit—at best, loving midwives, participants in a process much larger than we. If we are quiet and listen and feel how things move, perhaps we will be wise enough to put our hands on what waits to be born, and bless it with kindness and care.

~Wayne Muller

“She ended up in the hospital with blood clots and now her doctor says she needs to take a year off.”

My jaw dropped when I heard the news of her rushed trip to the ER, her touch-and-go brush with blood clots and jaundice, and her newly prescribed, highly encouraged, time off along with the countless medications she’d need to take to manage it all. This is a person I’ve known since I was basically born, and while I rarely see her (she lives across the country), I still care deeply about her well-being.

“What happened that led to this?” I asked the person who shared the news with me (I’m being cryptic for the sake of their confidentiality).

Work was busier than ever. Twelve hour days for months on end. Department reorg. Lots of pressure. Staff not able to keep up.

As I probed further, more details came to light that painted a more complex and troubling picture: she’d been working like this for years because there was no one else that could do the job like she could do. That as the Director of the department, she was expected to move these big, high stakes projects forward no matter what and her high salary basically required her to work any additional hours it would take.

Red flags for miles.

And now here she was, essentially unable to work at all for the foreseeable future, having just barely survived a health scare that rocked her family’s world.

“I literally cannot do this any more. I’m drowning and I don’t even recognize myself.”

Another conversation with a dear friend. Another highly-skilled, hard-working person having a crisis of confidence and on the brink of a breakdown.

This time the hours were manageable, the work was interesting, but the culture it all existed within was decidedly, not.

A boss unable to offer clear expectations. No autonomy or agency to make decisions, despite her decades in the field. Entry level work and micro-managing edits that left her feeling highly undervalued and wondering if she wasn’t as good at her job as she thought she was.

HR was on it, she thought. They’d had multiple conversations with multiple people acknowledging an issue existed. And so she stuck it out assuming things would shift.

They didn’t.

A brief conversation with one of her bosses only made things worse. As she came in, upset but hopeful that she could be candid about what was causing her stress, she shared her truth, through tears.

Their response?

“We have high standards here, and so maybe you need to think about whether you’re up for it.”

My friend got up and walked out the door.

Because, and I can vouch for this given that I’ve worked directly with her, and hired her in my past corporate life, she is always up for it. She’s diligent, of high integrity and one those few people who don’t know how to procrastinate. Her work is always above standard.

But interactions like this made her doubt this was still true.

The tears flowed as we talked it through: her saying that she’d never felt this way before, that she knew she needed a stress leave but that she had no idea if it would tarnish her reputation long term.

And me saying, “Friend, this is not you, nor is it about you. This work culture is toxic and you are losing yourself inside of it. Let’s do whatever we can to get you out.”

Our leadership isn’t effective unless it’s sustainable

These stories may feel extreme, but the underlying conditions that led to their outcome often aren’t.

And I’ve heard countless versions of them over my 15 years working with hundreds of leaders.

Despite all the Instagrammy content everyone pumps out about self-care, psychologically safe work environments, burnout and managing our workloads coupled with endless cultural conversations about quiet quitting, 4-day workweeks and ‘new normals’ post-Covid, I’m not entirely sure we’ve really figured out how to lead, live and work well in a way that’s sustainable and life-giving over the long haul.

Don’t get me wrong, I know many companies (or at least departments within companies) that are actively working to create better, more sustainable working conditions for their employees. They care deeply about their people, and are constantly communicating and making adjustments to improve working conditions.

And I know many founders and entrepreneurs who are bullish on their boundaries and are able to create separation between their businesses and their life. They’ve found a way to build a business without burning out or burning it all down — or at least, mostly.

But I also know that for every employee or entrepreneur who has created or been afforded a relatively sustainable, healthy working environment, there are likely three more that are hanging on by a thread most days, wondering “Is this what I signed up for?!” and looking at the burnout or breakdown train headed straight for them, unsure how to get off the tracks and out of the way.

You are meant to be more than just busy

Ask any leader how they are and I’d wager all my money that most would say some version of, “Busy!”

I just said it today.

Why do we keep saying this?

Sometimes it’s to justify why we haven’t finished something, connected back with someone or made more progress on something and we don’t want the other person to be upset with us, so we offer a pseudo-apology in the form of a busyness declaration.

“I’m so sorry I haven’t emailed / called / texted you back. It’s been sooooo busy at work.”

Sometimes it’s because we’ve taken on too much work, said yes too many times, or struggled to manage our ambitions against our reality.

And sometimes, if we’re honest, it’s because we want the cookies that come when we share just how busy (code for important) we are. We want the validation that comes when others look at us aghast and ask, “How do you do it all?”

(not well, we think, but I’m glad I’m putting up a good front)

In a culture that rewards outcomes —- while generally ignoring whatever it took to get there — answering the ubiquitous, “How are you?” question with something other than “Busy!” just feels strange.

We say it because it’s a habit.

And because it’s a hat tip to our worth.

Your worth is not a reflection of your workload

Making the to-do lists feels good.
Checking the boxes feels even better.
Saying yes feels necessary.
Working late, a symbol of our commitment.

No matter how much we ‘say’ we’re part of the new anti-hustle club, many of us hold deeply ingrained beliefs about what constitutes success.

We’ve been conditioned to believe (in western society anyway) that success equals status, money, power and prestige.

We can say we don’t really care about those things, and while that might be partially true, we also know how hard it is to emotionally push back on a capitalistic, patriarchal society and set of systems that are designed to exploit our labour under the guise of ‘making it big’ one day.

Those grooves run deep and are constantly reinforced culturally.

We wouldn’t be waxing poetic about quiet quitting if we weren’t also inherently suggesting that to simply ‘meet expectations’ is a character flaw.

We glamorize those who work hard and question those who prioritize their lives alongside their work.

Another friend — an incredibly talented professional — recently shared that someone made a remark about her ‘lifestyle business’ because she wasn’t interested in scaling it to millions. This is despite the fact that she works 50+ hours a week, and despite the impact this ‘lifestyle business’ creates in the community.

We just won’t quit the idea that working hard is what works. Our nagging compulsion to work is strong.

And so we keep making the lists and checking them twice, all the while measuring our worthiness based on how many we complete.

Where does this leave us?

The reality is, many of us work like this for years — decades even — believing that while it may not be ideal, it’s what’s required to be successful.

We sacrifice our sanity on the alter of hard work and berate ourselves in seasons where we simply can’t carry the same load we always have.

We champion rest, yet rarely take it.

We move the goal posts out again and again, in an endless game of, “What’s next?” that never finishes.

We overwork, under-delegate, deny reality and flirt with martyrdom. Or, if it’s happening at a company-wide level, we tolerate a toxic work culture based purely on fear where performance metrics, bum-in-chair time and outputs are valued above all else.

Worst case scenario: we experience both.

Welcome to Worth in Progress

• If you’ve ever asked yourself, “What is it all for?” then you’re in the right place.

• If you’ve ever wondered where you ambition went or why it’s shifted, you’re in the right place.

• If you’ve ever spent time considering how you could work differently, in service to your whole life, then you’re in the right place.

• If you’ve ever wondered if anyone else struggles to separate their outputs and achievements from their sense of self-worth, then you’re in the right place (and you’re not alone).

• And if you’ve ever bumped up against or fully fallen into burnout, then you’re definitely in the right place.

This isn’t a place for quick fixes or five step formulas. I don’t have all the answers and I’m sure you don’t either.

What we can do is have thoughtful, honest conversations about how we’re working and where we can make adjustments — at the individual, leader and collective level.

The world of work is changing - let’s be part of the team that helps change it for the better.

Thank you for being here. I’d love to hear your thoughts in the comments.

This is just the beginning.

Finally, if you enjoyed this essay, please consider sharing it with a friend, colleague or your community.