Self-sabotage

Last week, I wrote about my struggle with recurring burnout. It felt good to get it out of my head and into words, but almost immediately afterward, I wondered if I overshared. I don't know if I've ever been so torn on keeping a post up. I still am, to be honest.

That feeling isn't particularly new — it comes up almost every time I write about the hard parts. But this time it was visceral.

I can't tell if that reaction is imposter syndrome whispering that I shouldn't talk about ND or if it's something else entirely.

Maybe posts like that are a form of self-sabotage, and maybe that's why I had such a visceral reaction after publishing.

If I'm honest, there's little direct business upside to posting something like that on the company blog. It doesn't close deals. It doesn't get me more leads. It might even make some people think less of me.

The reward? Probably zero.

The risk? Non-zero.

And yet, I keep doing it.

It's not just writing about the hard parts, either. I skip emails because I don't have the energy for high-touch leads. I avoid sales calls because they disrupt my routines. I leave questionnaires unanswered because they're tedious and repetitive, even though they could pay big.

These aren't one-off choices — they're a pattern. A way of building my work life to avoid being drained. A way of curating an environment that feels safe and sustainable for me. And maybe that's fine. Maybe it's okay to optimize for energy and sanity over speed and growth.

But I can't ignore the rather intrusive thought: if I just mustered up the energy and did the opposite — answered every email, filled out every form, took every call — I'd probably see more than linear growth. The business might be in a completely different place.

Maybe the reward is personal, even if it comes with a professional cost. I've had great conversations with people going through, or who've gone through, the same things as me. It's good to not go alone.

Call it self-preservation or self-sabotage, it still helps.