You’re exhausted — emotionally, mentally, and physically — and feel disconnected from your work (burnout).
→ You stare at code that once excited you and feel… nothing. Coffee doesn’t help anymore; you’re on cup four and still foggy. You zone out in meetings, realizing you haven’t absorbed anything for the past ten minutes. Your body aches from hunching over your desk, but you’re too tired to do anything about it. The passion project that once defined you sits abandoned in your GitHub, and you can’t remember why it felt exciting in the first place.
Despite what you’ve achieved, you’re worried that you’ll be found out as a fraud.
→ Every code review feels like the moment they’ll discover you don’t belong here. You over-prepare for meetings, rehearsing answers to questions that might expose what you don’t know. When someone compliments your work, your inner voice whispers, “If only they knew how much I Googled.” You deflect praise with “yeah, but it was easy” or “the team did most of it,” genuinely believing you’ve simply gotten lucky.
You’re anxious about the future, your reviews, the job market, funding, or being laid off.
→ You refresh tech layoff trackers obsessively. Every 1:1 with your manager feels like it could be The Conversation. When the company all-hands gets scheduled, your stomach drops. You’re updating your resume at midnight “just in case,” while calculating how many months your emergency fund would last. The annual review cycle triggers an upset stomach and days of lost sleep as you mentally list every small win, worried it won’t be enough.
You feel restricted in your current position, which you may not fully agree with, especially ethically.
→ Your office building has features designed to be addictive while knowing the harm they cause. Your company’s data practices make you uncomfortable, but the golden handcuffs of RSUs keep you silent. You bite your tongue in meetings when leadership makes decisions that prioritize metrics over users’ well-being. You’ve become an expert at corporate doublespeak, saying what needs to be said while internally cringing every time.
“Is this even what I want to do?”
→ You catch yourself browsing bootcamps for completely different careers at 1 in the morning. The dream of building something meaningful has been replaced by optimizing engagement metrics. You secretly wonder if your younger self would recognize who you’ve become. Sometimes you fantasize about deleting everything and starting fresh; maybe opening a coffee shop, becoming a teacher, anything but another day of this.
You’re living with upsetting memories that are still affecting you today.
→ That toxic manager’s voice still echoes when you present ideas. The startup that imploded left you scanning for signs of risk and potential failure everywhere. Being the only minority, woman, POC, and/or queer person in the room for years has you code-switching and self-censoring. Past rejections, failed interviews, or public mistakes replay in your mind in the shower. The industry’s “move fast and break things” mentality broke something in you that you’re still trying to piece together.