better work issue #27

The first time I was unemployed, it was my choice.

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The second time, it wasn’t.
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I had to leave my job because I moved to another state (remote work wasn't a thing yet).
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I wasn't worried. I already had promising job interviews lined up in my new town. I had a stellar resume that perfectly fit the job descriptions. I had never experienced long-term difficulty in the job market, so why would I now?

I showed up for the final interviews...then got rejected. Over and over again.

It didn't make any sense. I was the best candidate for the job.

Work hard and you get what you deserve. ← That's what we were taught growing up.
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When my initial job leads dried up, my inner high-performer went into hyperdrive. Every minute had to be productive until the right opportunity came.

The faster I worked, the faster the results. Seemed logical.
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But there was a quiet shame I didn’t expect. The gut-punch of being rejected, the hit to my identity, the unspoken, internal pressure to contribute financially in my marriage.

There was a deep-rooted fear that the power dynamics would shift from being equal partners to being dependent on a man.

The thought of being dependent on anyone hurtled me back to my childhood home. Trapped. Suffocated. Powerless.

No fucking way. Dependency was too dangerous.
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So I did what all high-performers do.
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My days were filled with certifications, podcasts, personal projects. I rolled out my yoga mat and devoured self-help books in between employment-centric tasks. I became the Kirby of knowledge; mentally consuming everything I could get my hands on.

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I told myself enlightenment (and a worthy job offer) were within reach and secretly planned to get both at an impressive rate. I picked up a couple of temp jobs along the way, but nothing concrete.
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Then months passed. Then a year.

And I was in exactly the same place.

Hard work works…until it doesn’t

I didn’t understand yet that achievement and hard work alone won’t bring fulfillment.
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We can’t even rely on them to create long-lasting momentum - only purpose can do that.
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Our purpose doesn’t emerge from solo optimization. That’s true regardless of discipline, skill, or intelligence.
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Purpose requires people.​
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You have to find something worthy of organizing your life around - and knowing what's worthy to you comes into focus through relationships.
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There is no achieving your way out of that. Excellence won't help you here.
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When achievement stops being enough, pushing hard only makes you more stuck, like a car tire in the snow.

The high is not a 'why'

Across extreme endurance sports, athletes often report an unexpected emotional low after completing the goal they worked hard to achieve.
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Even Everest climbers, who dedicate years to preparation, sometimes describe the summit not as euphoric, but as emotionally flat.

Some call it post-hike depression. I call it the post-achievement drop.
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That’s exactly how I felt when I finally landed a well-paying job that fit all of my criteria.
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Instead of feeling proud, I felt nothing. Not even satisfaction.

I filled my days and moved without moving, stuck on a treadmill of my own making. I was doing so much, and yet I felt like I got nothing accomplished. Eventually, I got tired of my own bullshit.

The purpose of my job was to pay the bills. It wasn't my purpose.

To actually get moving in the right direction, I had to step off.
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I had to stop consuming, learning, and doing in solitude. I needed to admit that I couldn't do this on my own anymore.
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Is there relief in hitting big goals on your own? Yes. Pride, too.

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But it’s often followed by a blunt, unsettling question:
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​Is this it?​
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Not because our labor was insignificant, but because no achievement, no matter how extreme our climb, can automatically deliver meaning.
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That sobering moment is where my clients and I begin our work together.
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The shelf-life of excellence

Few high-performers come to me confused or unmotivated. They come to me exhausted from following rules that served them their whole lives.
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They’re exhausted because they’ve outgrown those rules, which are usually some combination of:
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• Being exceptional brings me security
• If you stop performing, everything falls apart
• Don’t rest, don’t rock the boat, don’t need too much
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They say things like, “I need balance,” or “I’m afraid of becoming lazy or complacent.”
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They can't make a decision. They feel stuck.
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This type of 'stuck' high-performer is trying to name something deeply human - the motivation behind their life’s work.
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But they're using a self-sufficiency model that was designed for survival and serving others, not fulfillment. It's so annoying to admit this, but the cliché is true: you are the one holding yourself back here.

Your success is keeping you stuck.​
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To stop following an old model and learn a new one, you need to create space and perspective.
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This is where other people come in.
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Purpose is a group project

What I know now is this:

You cannot fulfill your purpose on your own.​
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I tried finding it alone. I journaled until my hand cramped. I mapped out my ikigai (which is misleading by the way). I know my Myers-Briggs (INTJ the last time I took it but it changes every time).

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It was semi-insightful exploration, but it wasn't the work I needed. This type of self-reflection wasn't wrong, but it wasn't telling the full story.
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Because while purpose might spark in isolation, it only becomes sustainable when it’s built with others.
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Pursuing your purpose is fucking hard.
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And what do we do when we encounter something hard? We put it down, despite making a promise to ourselves. But hey, at least we're only disappointing one person.

When you build your purpose with others, there's a lot more at stake. If responsibility, accountability, and loyalty are things you value, then you're not going to give up so easily because life is life-ing.

Relationships are on the line this time. We all need to be witnessed, challenged, and encouraged.

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Whether I was a teacher, leader, or coach, my source of fulfillment was the same.
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I couldn't put it into words for years, but it was a pattern I replicated with the people I felt best around.
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In every role where I felt alive, I was serving the underserved and underestimated.​
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I’ve been both shaped by structural limits and taught to shrink myself to survive them.

Don't draw attention to yourself. Be safe and beware.​
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That shrunken version of me no longer calls the shots. That’s why I’m obsessed with empowering women who have lowered their presence to suit the status quo. Take up space, ladies!
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So what's your thread?

My purpose is to reduce human suffering through teaching and empowerment for the underserved and underestimated.
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​It’s the thread that connects all my chapters, no matter what title I held.​
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I won’t end all human suffering, but that's the point. Purpose has no finish line. It extends beyond you.
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I carried my purpose statement into leadership roles across education, nonprofits, tech, and entrepreneurship. My purpose statement carries on even when I don't have a role.
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So now when I hear a client say, “I need more balance,” I know the real problem is the "I."
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"I" should be we.
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No one does their life’s work alone. No one was meant to.
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Relying on others can feel messy and vulnerable, but independence taken too far doesn’t create freedom.
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It limits it.

Your turn

So if you’re figuring out what comes next, pause the templates, Myers-Briggs quizzes, and prompts for a moment.
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Just sit with yourself. Here's something for your busy mind to do:
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Close your eyes. Stay with that image for a few minutes.
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Notice how none of the villagers wanted a cover letter? Or tried selling you another AI app? What a dream.

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​Your next step: find one small way to live that role this week, and lean on the people who make it possible.

Purpose is like energy. It can't be created or destroyed - only experienced in motion, flowing between you and others.
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Notice where your energy flows, and join the current.

Take care of yourself,

Susan