When Working Hard Goes on Autopilot
Rethinking success in high-performance career
Many people assume that leaving a stable, respectable job must be triggered by burnout, failure, or some dramatic turning point. For me, it felt more like a delayed awakening.
In the years before I decided to leave, my life felt like driving a Formula 1 car: racing at 200 kilometers per hour, eyes fixed on the rankings, always ready to overtake. I had grown used to that speed. I had come to believe it was the only correct way to move. Everyone around me seemed to be driving just as fast, if not faster. Slowing down never felt like an option.
I never seriously asked myself how long I wanted to keep driving like that. I only knew I couldn’t fall behind.
Until one day, I stopped.
I used to believe that pushing through was a virtue
In the year before I left that high-stress environment, there were already signs that the environment might no longer fit me. The promotion path was narrowing. Business development became more difficult. The fatigue from sustained intensity was no longer something I could ignore. The excitement that once fueled me had faded.
But whenever obstacles appeared, my instinct wasn’t to step back - it was to double down.
I grew up being taught the value of perseverance - of never giving up. Over time, I began to equate letting go with failure.
So I told myself: just hold on a little longer. Work a little harder. Get through one more milestone.
Last May, during a business trip back home, I met a friend I hadn’t seen in over ten years. After talking for a while, he paused and said, “Are you okay? You seem worried. Ten years ago, you were full of light.”
That comment unsettled me more than I expected.
I started asking myself:
Is this the outcome all that striving was meant to create?
Is this really the life I’ve been working toward?
Looking back, I can see that what felt like determination was also a blind spot.
I was so focused on the single goal of becoming a Partner that I stopped seeing the wider landscape. I believed I had no real alternatives - when in reality, I had simply stopped allowing myself to consider them.
If I could go back, I would stay more connected to the outside world - keeping conversations open, understanding the market - not necessarily to leave, but to remind myself that choice always exists.
I used to believe that busyness equaled value
Consulting places a high premium on efficiency and multitasking. At one point, I developed something close to an obsession with optimizing my time.
I regularly audited my calendar to eliminate inefficiencies.
If I saw empty space, I filled it.
Stopping felt almost irresponsible.
Only later did I realize that busyness can be a form of anesthesia.
It deprives you of true rest and deep thinking - the kind that requires spaciousness.
It creates the illusion of importance without necessarily directing energy toward what truly matters.
I would find myself revising an already solid document repeatedly, or taking on projects that did little to move the needle for my long-term path - simply because being busy felt productive.
Recently, I came across the metaphor of “the monkey and the stage.” We often spend enormous effort building and perfecting the stage, rather than training the monkey to perform.
Instead of cramming more into 24 hours, I’ve learned the importance of choosing carefully - placing effort where it creates real leverage.
I used to believe that happiness lived in the next milestone
In high-intensity environments, the “unsatisfied overachiever” mindset often feels like the default setting.
Everyone is aiming for the next title, the next project, the next promotion. Once a goal is reached, the satisfaction fades quickly, replaced by a new target.
I once met a newly promoted partner who was already mapping out a strategy to become senior partner as quickly as possible. Stories like that were common.
Over time, I began to see something clearly:
If happiness is fully tied to external achievement, it will always be temporary and unstable.
There is nothing wrong with ambition.
But when external accomplishments become the sole source of self-worth, the inner state remains perpetually tense.
Perhaps real steadiness comes from a different capacity -
the ability to feel at peace even before reaching the next summit.
After Braking…
After leaving, I didn’t rush into another role.
I gave myself time to heal, travel, exercise, read, think, and spend meaningful time with my children.
Life became simpler and more rhythmic.
The happiness I felt didn’t come from gaining more - it came from allowing myself to slow down.
Those high-speed years weren’t wrong.
They shaped me. They strengthened me. They showed me my limits.
But the real turning point wasn’t leaving the job.
It was letting go of the inner drive that never allowed me to stop.
Many high-performing professionals reach similar inflection points in their careers. If you’re navigating a transition of your own, you can learn more about my coaching work here.
