You don’t have to earn your worth in exhaustion

A few years ago, I realised my workday didn’t really end, it just paused when I ran out of steam. There was no moment of satisfaction, no clear boundary between work and rest. Just a slow fizzle. Each evening blurred into the next, marked by the same familiar pattern: replying to one last message, agreeing to a task I had no time for, drinking coffee I didn’t need, and telling myself that tomorrow would somehow be different.

At the time, I thought I was being committed, responsible, even ambitious. I didn’t recognise the creeping burnout because it looked so much like success. But the truth is, I wasn’t building a career, I was maintaining a machine. And I’d convinced myself I was the fuel.

Why busyness still gets rewarded 

We don’t talk enough about how seductive overworking can be, especially when it’s applauded. Despite efforts to the contrary, we still live in a culture where people are praised for doing the most. Where being stretched thin is treated like a badge of honour. Where the ability to keep going, despite the cost to our wellbeing, is admired as 'grit'.

It’s not just in high-powered roles or corporate settings. It shows up in every corner of working life. In entrepreneurs who never switch off, creatives who equate output with relevance, parents who do paid and unpaid labour on an unending loop. And for anyone who’s ever felt the need to prove they belong, the stakes often feel even higher.

Overworking doesn’t always come from a place of drive. Often, it comes from fear; fear of being seen as lazy, dispensable, uncommitted, or replaceable. We learn to hustle for our worth, believing that the busier we are, the more valuable we become.

The problem isn’t you. It’s the system you’re trying to survive

It’s easy to internalise the idea that we’re just bad at managing our time, that we lack discipline, or that we need to “get more organised”. But what if the real issue isn’t how we’re managing our work, but how work is managing us?

The obsession with productivity has led many of us to mistake volume for value. We rush through tasks, schedule every minute, and optimise ourselves until we forget what we were trying to achieve in the first place.

Real productivity isn’t about doing more, it’s about doing what matters. It’s not just about being efficient. It’s about being intentional. The aim shouldn't be to master the hustle, it should be to step out of it long enough to ask whether it’s even worth the cost.

So what does it look like to work smarter?

Working smarter doesn’t mean cutting corners, it means setting clearer ones. It means choosing progress over perfection, depth over speed and focus over frenzy.

Sometimes, it might look like declining a meeting that doesn’t need you. Other times, it’s protecting a block of time to do focused work, not just reactive tasks. It’s learning to rest before you’re depleted, not after. It’s understanding that “urgent” doesn’t always mean important, and that being strategic often requires stepping back, not leaning in.

And remember that you won’t always get it right. You’ll have days where you still say yes too quickly, or find yourself slipping back into old patterns. But working well isn’t about getting it perfect. It’s about noticing when it’s not working, and being willing to change course.

Ready to stop running on empty?

If this post hit home, you might want to check out The Work Rewrite, which is my 40-day self-paced audio coaching programme designed to help you reimagine how work fits into your life. It’s all about creating new rhythms, setting better boundaries, and unlearning the hustle culture that keeps so many of us stuck. Click here to find out more.

A final thought

You don’t have to prove your worth by staying late, showing up tired, or saying yes when you don’t mean it. You were never meant to be on 24/7.

Working well means being more intentional with your energy, more honest about your limits, and more committed to doing work that feels sustainable, not just impressive.

Exhaustion is not a badge of honour. And you don’t owe anyone your burnout.