When You Cannot Tell the Difference Between Your Job and Yourself
Once upon a time, on a random Saturday morning, my boss ruined my weekend. Not because he was a jerk, but because I didn’t have an identity (or sense of self-worth) that wasn’t completely wrapped up in my job.
He forwarded me an email (as he often did, with zero thought about when or why he was sending it) containing feedback from a recent trip to a branch office. According to the head of said office, I was clearly averse to change, and my team must have terrible attitudes and be utterly miserable humans. What’s more, he had no objective examples to back up his assessment. It was just his opinion.
I should have laughed. It was a ridiculous and patently untrue assessment (and I had the reviews, etc. to back it up). But at the time, I didn’t have the knowledge of my Human Design to realize this was just his projections bouncing off my 5 Line Profile, mixed with my Incarnation Cross of Upheaval—home to Gate 39, aka the Gate of Provocation.
Translation? I, a strong woman who asked the questions no one else did and pointed out exactly what would and would not work, was always going to rattle an old-school, southern white dude who thrived on his own self-importance. He expected obedience, flattery, and a chorus of “Yes, sir.” What he got was me.
Instead of recognizing we were simply oil and water, I burst into tears, threw myself onto my bed, and spiraled, convinced I was a terrible leader and human, despite tangible evidence to the contrary, simply because he didn’t like me.
Back then, my identity was so tightly wrapped around my job that if you took it away, I’d have had zero clue who Elena The Human even was. Work was my personality. Boundaries? HA. If I wasn’t working, I was thinking about work.
Any criticism—whether it was fair feedback or just some dude’s subjective opinion—felt like an attack on me. I couldn’t separate “Hey, this decision didn’t work” from “Hey, Elena, you’re a fundamentally flawed human being.” So I overanalyzed everything, replayed mistakes on an endless mental loop, and let my self-worth rise and fall based on my latest work performance.
The result? I stayed in that job at least two years past its expiration date, endured a laundry list of mental and physical health issues, and, worst of all, realized I had no idea what my skills and talents actually were outside of a job description someone else wrote for me.
Getting back to the business of being myself—not just “Elena The Employee”—has been transformative. It’s also given me a powerful truth:
The second you start using work to validate yourself, you’re trapped in an unwinnable game—forever chasing approval, external validation, and the illusion that one more achievement will finally make you feel like enough. Spoiler: It won’t.
When someone asks what you do, you don’t just say it—you are it. “I’m a VP” isn’t just your job, it’s your identity. If you ever had to introduce yourself without mentioning work, you’d probably break out in hives.
You feel like you need to perform your title, carefully curating the “perfect” image of a high-powered executive, creative entrepreneur, or industry leader. Meanwhile, entire parts of your personality are collecting dust in the attic.
At parties, dinner with friends, or even casual coffee chats, you accidentally turn every conversation back to your business. Someone mentions their new hobby? You relate it to a business strategy. A friend talks about their kid? You somehow loop it back to leadership skills.
Most of your social circle consists of coworkers or industry peers, meaning work talk never really stops. You’d love to be someone with diverse interests, but… what even are hobbies, anyway?
A minor piece of feedback feels like a personal attack. If you don’t get that promotion or project, you spiral, convinced you’re a failure and mere minutes away from being fired.
If work is going great, you feel unstoppable. If it’s not? Your self-worth is plummeting faster than a stock market crash. The rollercoaster is exhausting, but hey, who needs stability when your entire identity is riding on your career?
You’ve abandoned hobbies because, let’s be real, when would you even have time for them? You’re always on—checking emails at dinner, responding to Slack messages at midnight, and logging in on weekends just in case something urgent comes up (it never does).
Vacation? You take them, sure, but you also take your laptop. You tell yourself you’ll unplug, but somehow, you still end up checking emails between margaritas. At this point, work isn’t just a job—it’s a lifestyle.
The idea of switching careers, industries, or even pivoting in your business gives you an identity crisis. Who even are you without your title? The devil you know (even if it’s soul-sucking) feels safer than the great unknown of figuring yourself out.
If your job disappeared tomorrow, you’d be left staring at the wall, wondering what people do all day when they’re not working. Not that you’d ever let it get to that point—staying in a job you’ve outgrown is way easier than confronting an existential crisis (except trust me, the existential crisis comes anyway!).
What does a fulfilling life look like outside of work? How do you want to reflect back on your life at the end of it? (Hint: No one’s last words are “I wish I had responded to Slack messages faster.”)
Success isn’t just about climbing ladders or hitting revenue goals—it’s about living. It’s about joy, relationships, adventure, and those little moments where you laugh so hard it counts as an ab workout.
If your definition of success is only tied to promotions and paychecks, it’s time for a rewrite.
When was the last time you did something purely for fun—no productivity, no networking, no “leveraging this for future career opportunities”? If you can’t remember, we have a problem.
Pick up a hobby that has zero connection to your job. Build relationships with people who don’t care what you do for a living. The more you see yourself as a full-spectrum human, the less you’ll need work to tell you who you are. Bonus: This also makes you way more interesting at parties.
Let’s be real: Your company will cut costs and cut you loose without hesitation if it benefits their bottom line—so why are you acting like answering emails at 11 PM makes you indispensable?
Start small if you have to: Set a cutoff time for emails. Log off when the workday actually ends. Take your damn lunch break. And please, use your PTO—because if you truly can’t step away without the place falling apart, either you aren’t leading effectively or your boss isn’t. (Neither of which is your problem to fix on unpaid time.)
If the idea of separating who you are from what you do makes you break out in a cold sweat, Human Design can help.
When I first learned mine, it was like a giant permission slip to just be myself—a creative problem-solver, a storyteller, and someone who thrives on seeing possibilities others miss. Those skills exist no matter what job I’m doing. Imagine how freeing it is to see your strengths as yours, not just part of your job description.
HD also reveals exactly where you’re giving away too much energy, overworking, or trying to prove yourself in ways that don’t serve you. If you’re ready to reclaim who you actually are, I offer 90-minute Human Design readings where we cut through the noise of your career and get to the truth of you.
You are a whole, multifaceted, extraordinary human being with talents, passions, and gifts that exist whether or not they show up on a performance review. However, our society’s focus on achievements, climbing the ladder, constant productivity, and hustle-until-you-make-it, make it very very easy to forget that.
Getting sucked into the work-is-life mentality easily morphs into my-job-is-me and before you know it, you can’t remember who you were before your title or what you bring to the table besides your work performance.
But your work is not who you are, it’s just one of the many ways you express yourself in this lifetime—not the proof of your existence. So let it be a channel for your genius, not a cage for your identity.
Hugs,
Elena
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