I don’t know when the burnout started. I can’t pinpoint a moment. Achievement orientation seemed encoded into my being from an early age. Was I programmed for burnout?

It may have started in high school with the nights I chased a NoDoz with Green Mountain coffee at 11pm so I could cram all night for a test the next day. It could have been the years of working 100+-hour weeks. In my life, I had always felt that whatever shortcomings I had – and I felt I had many – I could overcome through sheer dedication and work ethic. I felt that if I could put in an additional 40 hours of studying to get a 99 (A) on a test vs. a 92 (A-), I felt that it was worth it to squeeze out that remaining X%. That I should push for perfection. And it worked for a while. It better than just “worked.”

During one of my interviews at an NYC-based hedge fund, I was proud when I proclaimed that I was working these kind of hours. Rick from the recruiting department seemed horrified, disbelieving, and fascinated at the same time.

“Hold on a minute.” He pulled out a pen and started diagramming my hours. “Okay, so you work 50 hours a week for the Institute for Social and Economic Research and Policy.” He scribbled away, as I told him about how I was working full-time while finishing up my master’s degree in International Affairs, working on a consulting project for the Liberian government, and serving as Senior Editor for the Journal of International Affairs and writing research reports for the Global Policy Review.

He pushed the resulting chart towards me accusingly. “This is what your week looks like?” He asked incredulously and slyly as though he had caught me in a lie. “Yes!” I smiled. It was true.

Why was I so proud of this now-apparent and masochistic overdrive mode in me? Clearly, this is a sign of mania and instability. I may have been missing more than a few marbles.

Yes, I was tired, but I was still young and nakedly ambitious (but with no ultimate goal – just ambition for ambition’s sake, WTF). So even this pattern stretching out over years didn’t kill me. I wasn’t money-oriented. I was making $35K a year at that point in my life, and I believed I would never make a 6-figure salary, so I didn’t even strive for it. It was all about proving to myself that I could do things and stay on the path of achieving more and more and more. I just knew I wanted to do something big, but I didn’t know what yet. In the meantime, I would do whatever I was doing perfectly.

Then I started my Wall Street job at the age of 26. Suddenly, I was making six figures. There was this whole other side of me that wasn’t being nurtured though because I thought that to have legitimacy in the eyes of the world, I needed to be analytical, scientific, business-minded. And I had to make up for all the time I spent in college majoring in Comparative Literature and Art History. These were important skills to garner, so I don’t regret it. But I do marvel at the amount of time and energy I was able to put into doing things that did very little for my soul.

I loved building, creating, learning, being in charge, exploring new industries and roles. I did a lot of that. I don’t think I’ll ever stop being a career and life-explorer and specialize in one area. But there really was a lot missing in me finding my life’s purpose and being the real me. I now understand what it means to “find yourself.” Because I certainly did lose myself. Big-time. Mostly, it was the expectations I set for myself and what society seemed to be saying success looked like. I wanted to be legitimate and to succeed in my career so I could then apply my experience to do good. In my mind, there was a long and arduous path to doing real good, and I needed to pay my dues.

Through the years of delaying my own happiness, I started to burn out. It was a trickle of burnout at first. Then it accelerated quickly until I really lost any sense of why I was doing what I was doing. I stopped caring and became an executing robot. No catastrophe could phase me, and the only thing I could think of was my own survival and escape from a life I could not understand how I was living.

I realize now that I have been addicted to stress my entire life. It has been the organizing principle behind everything I do. Stress and fear have propelled me to achieve my greatest career achievements. There have been many late nights with me typing quickly, creating models or slide decks, one eye on the upper-righthand corner of my computer working to beat the clock. Then the reward of finishing just in time. It was addicting.

But nothing was ever good enough. I never rejoiced in my victories. It was always easier for me to criticize myself. This is a self-defense mechanism, of course. If you are your own worst critic, no one else can hurt you. You are in control.

There are a few painful career moments burned into my consciousness. In the Genealogy of Morals, Nietzsche talks about how the painful moments are the ones that define memory. They are seared into you and direct your future behavior and outlook much more than the sunny ones.

One was the realization that things are not fair. Companies are not benevolent forces and purveyors of culture. They are a business looking at the bottom line and headcount is a resource. When my friends were laid off after the Global Financial Crisis while the firm was doing well, my world view was shattered. Then when I as the top performer in my department was not allowed to pursue my career goals because I was too useful to the department while others were supported in their ambitions, I became angry.

Emotions and mindset – what you believe – is so important in driving what actually happens in your life.

I especially realize these things now that I’m sitting on a beach in Thailand. With no real external pressure, it is hard to crack the whip on yourself. The past seems so utterly misdirected and unhealthy. And I need to relearn how to do things out of interest, curiosity, love, and all these other more healthy human impulses.

The best thing you can do for yourself then is to maintain emotional balance and tranquility and never let anyone compromise or pierce that barrier. No matter what happens in your life, try to let it bounce off of you and bring yourself back to mental equilibrium. I imagine it as a porous shield or membrane in a way. Let all the good in and stay open, but don’t let any of the bad juju permeate or knock you over. I’m not there yet, but it’s something to aspire to.

The second career realization I had was that I’m not invincible. It’s not strong to always be strong and tough. Strength is knowing your real limits and having the discipline to draw boundaries, even when it is tempting to take on more.

As a high-achieving person who became a senior executive of a 19,000-person company, the youngest senior executive to achieve it at this centuries old company, I felt I wanted to show I could do it. I didn’t have as much experience as many people. I was young, a woman, and Asian – the trifecta – and I suppose I had a chip on my shoulder. And I was exhilarated (and petrified) by the opportunity to be a general manager managing a large organization, big budget, etc. with the opportunity to make a large impact.

At a certain scale of organization though, you certainly need to delegate (duh), but you also need to be more of a senator than a general. I learned to be a killer general with sound thinking, strategy, tactics, and execution. Playing the political game was harder because I wanted to do everything above board. I was resourceful, but it was hard for me to understand how to really play the game of making the right friends, forging the right alliances, and crafting your public image just-so.

I just let the work and responsibility pile on top of me. When I felt it was too much for my team, I just did the work myself. I said yes to even the most impossible and ridiculous of requests, and I fulfilled them at great personal cost to myself, my life, my happiness. The business I joined was in transformation and in trouble. I loved the idea that I would be the hero. As life and work can be destructive in general and in particular with an organization that was in a semi-downward spiral, there were just challenges all around. The platforms, the products, the talent, the market. The revenue game was tough. And there was big disagreement among the executive team. The sad thing is that when faced with all these challenges, we could have banded together, helped each other. But it really became much more about survival and finger-pointing. It was hard to get things done, and we all had different ideas about what the right thing was to do. Of course, I continue to believe I was right. I’m sure others feel the same way.

The environment was toxic, and I felt powerless to change it. One of the employees in my organization died. I had to lay off people. So many things were broken. I had to fly everywhere all the time. Be on so many task forces and calls. Convince people and other parts of the organization to do things for me. Meanwhile, it was just endless and thankless. I lost hope at a certain point of anything other than surviving and making it through to the other side.

This is how I really burnt out. And then I kept going and going still. I was even promoted to take on more responsibility. Then I became desperate.

Finally, I had to do something. I was in Whistler on vacation earlier this year. I looked around at all the happy people, and I wondered. I couldn’t understand why they were so happy. They and I were worlds apart. I had some medical issues that I didn’t even realize. I lost my phone. I was going on dates and felt nothing. Couldn’t even really remember their names. They became appointments instead of people. I drank…a lot. I looked like hell. I came to a point where all I could see was the nuclear option. And like in many relationships you want to end, you look for ways to make them feel okay about you leaving and try to make yourself look bad. I started to do that a little. Not too much, but a little. Me being okay with not looking perfect. Unprecedented. A sign of maturity and growth maybe, but disturbing nonetheless.

So as I was getting my ski gear together with one hand, I wrote my boss an email with the other. It wasn’t me quitting. It was me initiating the conversation that a change was needed.

It was the best decision I ever made. Truly, the best thing I have ever done for myself in my life. I am proud. It took so long for me to do it.

“Quitting is the ultimate forcing function.” I remember my friend Lux saying that to me repeatedly during the nights and mornings when I couldn’t sleep or had stayed up in a cold sweat feeling overwhelmed and hopeless. I had achieved so much of what I thought I wanted. And I was so unhappy. I had so many responsibilities. My calendar was a sea of overlapping meetings, jumping from one topic to the next. So much was out of my direct control, though I had to influence and direct the results. There was so much to know. And I had to be tough and strong.

I spent a year complaining, worrying. He listened, and for that, I am grateful. I think he had lost hope that I would ever do anything except despair.

It’s been a journey. Recovery hasn’t been straightforward. I guess that is the nature of self-discovery and learning who you really are. It’s not a crisis, but a renaissance. Not everyone understands that. I know people see me as aimless and erratic. I’m okay with that because this really is the happiest I’ve probably ever been in my life.

Right now, I’m realizing that this has been a process of learning how to do things for myself. It is deeply uncomfortable for me to do things for myself. I keep looking at the list of things I need to do for other people, and I’m automatically drawn to the comfort of wanting to cross off those items – these “shoulds” and obligations end up at the top of the list.

At the outset, I thought I would take a month off probably and then find a job. I got started right away though. My first week of unemployment I was frenetically meeting with people and looking at job boards and companies.

That was 6 months ago.

I’m still coming to grips with the fact that I plan to do nothing until I want to do something. Or until my money runs out. Whichever comes first.

I haven’t exactly been wandering aimlessly for the past 6 months. I would say that I’ve been more open to my own intuition and opportunities that come up. Along the way, I’ve been hoping to be struck with some sense of all-consuming purpose. I am trying to recover, but I miss the sense of mission. Sometimes I do miss the late nights. I miss the feeling of doing something others or maybe you yourself thought wasn’t possible. I miss thinking through problems because you have to find a solution.

But I don’t miss the way I approached my life and career goals.

Each month, week, day, and moment feels like a new chapter in this journey.

I came to Thailand to connect, to be at peace, to quiet the mind. Also to work. To maybe find a project to immerse myself in.

Some of what I’ve been up to:

1. Mild digital detox
2. Beautiful scenery and nature away from the city
3. Meditation, yoga
4. Right thinking – no obsessing about stupid stuff – or at least minimizing it. I know that I spend a lot of time thinking, but I don’t always think the right way about this. It may be the harsh critic and inner voice speaking vs. a compassionate one who seeks to understand and help self-soothe and recuperate.
5. Helping others (being there for Jay as he reflected on his decisions and mind)
6. Just sitting around
7. Also, yes, working on some things for clients

Some of the results:

1. I can feel my cortisol levels reduced
2. My mind is less fragmented, much clearer
3. I can read books again – better attention span
4. I feel more comfortable saying “no” to people – I realize my default stance is always YES (which stresses me out! When I commit to things, I know that I will do them, but overcommitting and overdelivering is a recipe for STRESS!)
5. Being clearer about things I want and like
6. I know I can’t do everything (even though I want to) – this is linked to saying “yes” to everything

I still have a lot of recovering to do though.