Rethinking How I Work
Today feels odd. I’m drained, low on energy, and out of my depth. Things that normally seem easy suddenly feel impossibly difficult, as if I’m stuck in quicksand of my own making. The only difference now is that I recognize it earlier than I used to. I’ve been here before, many times, but it doesn’t take me months to admit it anymore.
This year marks the beginning of my sixth year as a full-time software developer. Most of my days have been spent building features, fixing bugs, brainstorming projects, and sitting in on discussions with clients or merchants, just the usual rhythm of the job. Like everyone else, I want to be a little better than I was yesterday. But the way I’ve tried to get there hasn’t always been healthy.
When I first started out, I thought the way to grow was simple: work harder than everyone else. If the standard was eight hours a day, I’d push for ten or eleven, sometimes weeks at a time. I didn’t prioritize recovery, and I rarely took time off. I’d spend weekends buried in technical books or building side projects, only to come back on Monday already running on fumes. Or I’d stay up half the night chasing down bugs that weren’t urgent, convinced that sheer effort would get me ahead. What I told myself was ambition was, in reality, impatience. I wanted to be better now.
But of course, it always caught up to me. The pattern became predictable. I’d overwork myself, performance would slip, I’d procrastinate and make excuses, then pull away from my responsibilities more than I should have. Eventually I’d recover, get back into rhythm, and then fall right into the same loop again. It wasn’t just exhausting, it made me unreliable to the people I worked with. And the worst part was the constant doubt: was I doing enough?
I’ve realized that a lot of this came down to unclear expectations. Companies measure productivity by output, but if the expectations between you and your manager aren’t aligned, you’ll always end up working more than necessary just to prove yourself. In one of my earlier jobs, it seemed like expectations were crystal clear for most of the company, but not for my role. Instead of clarifying with my manager what growth should look like for me, I just tried to fill in the blanks by working longer and harder. That guessing game eventually wore me down.
Things are different at my current company. When I started slipping again, my manager didn’t come down hard on me. Instead, he reached out and made it clear that he wanted to help me be the best version of myself, not just for the company’s growth, but for my own well-being. That kind of empathy changed everything. It reminded me that work isn’t just about output, it’s about sustainability. If I never pause, if I never take breaks, those “extra hours” don’t add up, they subtract. They create loops of frustration and fatigue that help no one.
Looking back, I can see how much my relationship with work has changed. I’m more self-aware now. I catch myself earlier when I’m spiraling into exhaustion. I don’t let excitement or over-investment cloud my judgment anymore, because I know I want to do this for the long haul. Consistency matters more than intensity. Ten extra hours today don’t mean much if they cost me ten days tomorrow.
There’s still plenty to figure out. My relationship with work isn’t perfect, and it probably never will be. But it’s evolving. And for now, that feels like the real progress.