I was talking to a friend last week who is a manager at a growing creative agency. She sounded totally exhausted.
I’m paraphrasing, but the conversation boiled down to this: “I just keep telling myself I should be doing more”.
She had already reached every single financial goal for the year. The team was happy, and the clients were satisfied.
But she seemed stressed out and couldn't shake the feeling that she had failed somewhere because she hadn't immediately taken on five new clients who had reached out in December.
That level of pressure is mostly self imposed and makes zero rational sense. Yet, I knew exactly what she meant.
The weight of “should”
I’ve known plenty of successful people who are masters at avoiding this trap.
My senior VP, Mark, is excellent at drawing non-negotiable lines in the sand.
He schedules the last two weeks of the year for deep strategic work. No calls, no meetings, and certainly no new urgent requests. It’s a dedicated period of scheduled absence.
He doesn't feel guilty about it. He just views it as necessary maintenance for high performance.
If a real emergency pops up, he handles it calmly. But otherwise, he protects that time fiercely.
When I think about my friend frantically chasing new leads versus Mark deliberately closing his operational doors, I see two opposite philosophies of management. One is driven by perceived obligation, and the other is driven by strategic health.
What I’m finally putting down
For years, I wore the exhaustion like a badge of honor too. Especially when becoming a manager or leader.
If something went sideways in the business, I’d immediately internalize it as a personal failing.
Did the marketing team misinterpret the A/B test results? That’s my fault. Did a team member miss a critical deadline? I should have checked in sooner.
This is the operational downside of being a highly empathetic, high-functioning individual. You begin to take on the emotional and functional weight of everyone around you.
I’ve spent too much time feeling personally responsible for every team error or missed deadline.
And by December, I often feel exhausted and resentful. It took a while to realize that these issues are just operational realities, not my own moral failures.
The impossibility of 100%
I was listening to a podcast about leadership recently, and the guest mentioned how many managers secretly believe they must solve every single problem instantly.
We treat our job like a high-stakes emergency room, when often, what is needed is the slow, deliberate work of preventative maintenance.
The uncomfortable question I had to ask myself was this: Am I holding onto these unrealistic expectations because I genuinely think they are necessary, or because they make me feel uniquely important?
I think it's probably the latter. The obligation provides a steady dose of relevance.
I’ve realized the only thing that sustains the cycle of burnout is the expectation of perfection. That internal whisper that says you must be 100% present, 100% helpful, and 100% emotionally available at all times.
You can be effective, excellent, and caring without achieving that impossibility.
What I’m letting go of (three expectations)
I’m trying to enter the new year lighter, having physically and emotionally dropped three major sources of unrealistic managerial expectation:
1. The guilt of the instantaneous “yes.” We’ve trained ourselves, and our teams, that the immediate response is the best response. I’m letting go of the internal guilt that rushes me into decisions. The slow, thoughtful “yes” is almost always the better choice than the rushed, obligatory one. I’m practicing the default answer of, "Let me circle back on that tomorrow”.
2. The obligation to absorb every failure. Managers are accountable for results, but we are not meant to be sponges for every emotional ripple or misstep in the team. Accountability means owning the system, not carrying the shame. I am actively separating my personal identity from the outcomes of operational variables. If a project fails, I don't fail. The project failed.
3. The requirement of constant novelty. I often feel pressure, especially heading into a new year, to launch a new product, a new vision, or a massive new initiative. That pressure is exhausting. I am choosing stability over sensationalism, and allowing the great things we already do to simply remain great, without being radically rebranded every 90 days.
The bottom line
I’d like to say I have this figured out, but I don't.
I just know that when I looked at my friend's exhaustion, I saw a version of myself I no longer want to be.
We often think the measure of success is what we accumulate as in money, fame, assets. But sometimes, real success is measured by what we consciously refuse to carry.
I hope I can be more like Mark. Strategic absence, boundaries in place, happy with a work life well maintained.
Good enough is something you have to choose, over and over, until you finally believe it.
I guess I'll find out next year.
P.S. Happy New Year and see you next Tuesday.