I am on a business trip this week that’s not for a speaking gig. It’s the first time in a long time for me. Sure, I’ve driven to local clients. But I haven’t gotten on a plane and left home to visit with one client for this long since before 2020. 

Traveling like this brings up a lot of old memories from my days in corporate America – the commute, figuring out lunch every day, what to wear, and all of the other little details that make working from an office just a little different from working from home. I can’t wear a button up and gym shorts into fancy tower offices. 

The biggest difference of all? Me. I remember that younger version of myself. I was so convinced that if I just showed up earlier, worked later, and spoke up more in meetings I’d be on the corporate executive path. Someday, I would be the boss of entire teams.

I was always trying so hard just to be good that it was absolutely exhausting. I was convinced that giving a little more even when I didn’t have it was the formula for a bright future. Turns out, that’s only a formula for being miserable. 

I wish I could go back and hug them. Maybe even shake them a little so they could realize that work isn’t some mathematical equation. Getting promoted and advancing in a career isn’t some point system. This isn’t some real life Mario Kart. There are very few winners in this race. Just a lot of people who are trying so hard to try so hard and only finding themselves burnt out. 

Burnout didn’t protect me from anything. It didn’t stop me from getting laid off (twice, in fact). It only made the pain that much deeper. As much as I could blame the culture or managers, the reality is that I was the worst manager of all. I broke myself. No one can beat me up and convince me I’m doing it all wrong quite like I can. I told myself if I just kept going and did everything right, I’d get to a certain place in live.

It didn’t help that my dreams didn’t come true. Despite the burnout, I remember all those times I was passed up for a promotion or didn’t get a raise after all that sacrifice. Frustrated doesn’t begin to cover it when you reflect on just how much you lost in the process. Mostly the personal stuff, too, which only makes it sting even more. 

Now I know that even when I achieve my lofty goals, it isn’t enough. Nothing external will deliver the validation I’m craving. I’m the only one that can give that to myself.

So take this lesson I’ve learned from looking back. Take the time to be with the people you love. That includes yourself. We’re not earning any respect or reward from working until we’re dead. Especially during the holidays when it all feels out of whack, when the memories of people we lost are ever present, I don’t want you to live with the same regrets. Or the burnout.

Weekly Letters burnout regret