The professional world rewards those who take initiative, solve problems, and demonstrate unwavering dedication. Yet, somewhere between being a competent, committed employee and becoming an irreplaceable linchpin, a dangerous transformation occurs—one that erodes mental health, destabilizes work-life balance, and breeds profound regret. I should know; I’ve lived it.
There’s a fine line between professional excellence and self-sacrificial martyrdom, and I’ve bulldozed right past it. I made myself too important at work, and now, it’s ruining my life. I answer emails at midnight, strategize in the shower, and find my personal worth increasingly tethered to my job title. And in those moments of exhaustion and exasperation, my mind drifts to the absurd yet oddly comforting thought: Maybe I should just work at Dollar Tree.
Mental Health and the Myth of Indispensability
Burnout isn’t just a buzzword; it’s a clinically recognized syndrome resulting from chronic workplace stress that has not been successfully managed (World Health Organization [WHO], 2019). Making oneself too essential at work accelerates this process. The relentless need to be available, competent, and engaged fosters anxiety, disrupts sleep, and diminishes overall well-being.
A study by Maslach and Leiter (2016) identified three dimensions of burnout: emotional exhaustion, depersonalization, and reduced personal accomplishment. These symptoms are particularly prevalent in high-responsibility jobs, where employees feel the weight of organizational success on their shoulders. Consider the case of Sarah, a senior project manager at a tech firm. She was praised for her ability to troubleshoot crises, but the expectation that she would always be available led to chronic insomnia, high blood pressure, and, eventually, a breakdown that forced her to take medical leave (Maslach & Leiter, 2016).
Psychologists describe this as role engulfment—when one’s identity becomes so enmeshed with a particular role that other aspects of selfhood fade into the background (Thoits, 1991). The cost? Depression, social withdrawal, and a nagging feeling that you’re running on a treadmill with no off switch. When every problem must pass through you for resolution, there is no true break—just brief pauses before the next crisis.
The Fallacy of Work-Life Balance
Work-life balance is an ideal often paraded in corporate mission statements yet rarely achieved. When you become “the person” everyone turns to at work, boundaries blur. Weekends are no longer yours; vacations require a Wi-Fi connection. And while you tell yourself that you’re doing it to advance your career or support your team, the truth is often more insidious: the need for validation.
Consider Japan’s karoshi culture, where overwork leads to literal death. In 2017, a 31-year-old journalist, Miwa Sado, died of heart failure after logging 159 hours of overtime in a month (Harlan, 2017). Her case was not unique—karoshi (death from overwork) has been a growing crisis in Japan, with similar cases in South Korea and even among white-collar workers in the U.S. (Takahashi, 2021).
In making ourselves indispensable, we rob ourselves of rest. It is the paradox of self-importance: the more vital you are to your workplace, the less control you have over your own life.
Professionalism vs. Self-Preservation
There’s an unspoken pressure in many workplaces to demonstrate a near-superhuman level of dedication. Answering emails after hours? A sign of commitment. Never using sick days? A badge of honor. But at what cost?
True professionalism isn’t about sacrificing oneself for the organization; it’s about fulfilling responsibilities while maintaining sustainability. Yet, we often conflate self-neglect with work ethic. In 2019, France enacted the “right to disconnect” law, allowing employees to ignore work emails after business hours (De Stefano, 2020). While some companies resisted this policy, studies indicate that countries with stricter labor protections experience lower burnout rates (Eurofound, 2021).
Yet, in the U.S., the glorification of hustle culture persists. Even in academia, where intellectual labor is emphasized over physical exertion, burnout rates among faculty and graduate students are rising, with 70% of Ph.D. students reporting mental health struggles related to overwork (Levecque et al., 2017).
The Regret of Overcommitment
Ask any high-achieving professional about their regrets, and you’ll often hear the same theme: I wish I hadn’t worked so much. It’s a realization that usually comes too late—after missed birthdays, deteriorating health, and relationships that have quietly unraveled in the background.
Steve Jobs, in his final days, reflected on the emptiness of wealth without connection, saying, “Non-stop pursuit of wealth will only turn a person into a twisted being, just like me” (Isaacson, 2011). Likewise, former PepsiCo CEO Indra Nooyi admitted that despite her professional success, she deeply regretted not being more present for her family (Nooyi, 2021).
I used to believe that professional success would automatically lead to personal fulfillment. Now, I wonder if I was simply buying into a socially reinforced delusion.
The Laughable Dream of Working at Dollar Tree
In moments of peak exhaustion, my mind conjures a seemingly simpler path: working at Dollar Tree. No emails at midnight. No strategic planning. No expectation to be the person with all the answers. Just neatly stacking shelves, scanning items at checkout, and clocking out without a second thought.
Of course, this fantasy is built on naïveté. Retail work, especially in understaffed, fast-paced environments, comes with its own stressors—difficult customers, low wages, corporate oversight. A 2022 study on retail burnout found that 60% of Dollar Tree employees reported feeling undervalued and overworked, citing unpredictable scheduling and lack of managerial support (Williams & Hardy, 2022).
This speaks to a larger truth: the desire for simplicity is not about laziness—it’s about escape.
Self-Care as an Act of Resistance
Self-care is often trivialized—reduced to bubble baths and mindfulness apps—but real self-care is radical. It is recognizing that saying “no” is not a betrayal of ambition. It is prioritizing health over hustle. It is understanding that no matter how vital you are at work, you are ultimately replaceable—and that’s okay.
Setting boundaries isn’t selfish; it’s survival. Because at the end of the day, the work will still be there. The question remains: Will you still be you when all is said and done?
References
De Stefano, V. (2020). The rise of the “right to disconnect”: Reconciling work and private life in the digital age. International Labour Review, 159(4), 689-711.
Eurofound. (2021). Working conditions in the digital age: The impact of technology on job quality. Publications Office of the European Union.
Harlan, C. (2017). Japan’s work culture is literally killing people. The Washington Post.
Isaacson, W. (2011). Steve Jobs: The exclusive biography. Simon & Schuster.
Levecque, K., et al. (2017). Work organization and mental health problems in PhD students. Research Policy, 46(4), 868-879.
Maslach, C., & Leiter, M. P. (2016). Burnout: The cost of caring. Malor Books.
Nooyi, I. (2021). My Life in Full: Work, Family, and Our Future. Portfolio.
Takahashi, K. (2021). Overwork and death: The rise of karoshi. Asian Business & Management, 20(2), 232-245.
Williams, A., & Hardy, M. (2022). Retail burnout: A study of employee well-being in low-wage jobs. Journal of Workplace Studies, 45(1), 102-119.
Photo by Nubelson Fernandes on Unsplash
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