When I started my business, I had a simple goal for achieving work/life balance: I was going to make sure I took time out to blog every week. (On this here, blog, no less.) It would be a way to ensure that I didn’t lose sight of myself. It was a promise to stay focused on things that made me happy so I didn’t only focus on things that made me money. I’ve failed.
When you start a company, people give you this look. I call it the “good luck, kid” look. It’s part pride, part fear, part hope and part skepticism. The funny thing is that their face is the physical manifestation of your insides. You are feeling all those things. Do they really feel that way or is it a projection? Is that that why you see what you see on their face?
Fast forward to today when I have five people on payroll, a new office, plans for expansion and an actual business with actual revenue. Now, people ask a different question: “how’s business?” And I give them a look that I call, “Can you tell I’m silently drowning in the confusingly endless ocean that is running a small business?” face. You feel this because things are going well. But invariably, if things are going well - that also means that things are very, very busy.
Which brings me to not writing. The other day in between the madness of finishing one project and trying to get to a meeting and make sure I got to the bank and achieved one of the other 100 things on my list, I realized that I was feeling unhappy. The amount of stress, people management and planning that had become my day to day life was overwhelming me. And all I wanted to do was sit down and do nothing.
This is because people management is not why I started my business.
Project coordination is not why I started my business.
Financial planning is not why I started my business.
But all these things were now my job. And since my job is so tightly interwoven with how I see myself and think about my place in the world, I suddenly felt totally out of place inside my own company. I can tell you first hand: that’s a bizarre feeling. For a few weeks, I’ve charged ahead, acknowledging that sometimes having a business that does what you love means you gotta do a lot more business than the thing that you love to make it survive.
However, that can only last so long before a total identity crisis sets in.
I’ve known a lot of overachievers in my life. In business. In corporate careers. In college. We all have this really big thing in common: we equate achievement with our personal value. If we’re not doing well, our value to the world plummets. When we’re killing it, well, our value to our employers and our friends and our partners is at its peak. Actions are everything. Proving to yourself and others that you can take on a challenge is the drug. And you want to experience the high.
In running my business, I’ve realized that no matter how much money you are making, no matter how happy your clients are, no matter how talented your team is becoming and no matter how successful you have become - exhaustion kills the joy. Without proper rest, nutrition, time off and just general balance, you will completely kill any and all of the high.
I won’t say I don’t love Mighteor. Or production. Or what we are doing as a team. Or the projects we are working on. I do. I love this business and all the people that make it a thing.
But, I am so tired.
And that’s confusing. Because identity is something we all struggle with, but for someone like me, pushing myself into what I do for my work is how I always manage those ups and downs. Now my work IS the ups and downs.
This weekend, I’m going to take my first real days off that I’ve had in 2.5 months. I’ve worked every weekend for 8 weeks straight. And to make myself step away, I had to book a damn flight and buy concert tickets. Otherwise, it was never gonna happen. But I also hope to reconnect with the part of myself that finds happiness and hope outside of the business.
Who knows, maybe I’ll even start a journal again.
Because the thing about identities is that we can always change them.