Why I talk about autonomy... more than anything else

How it creates momentum for your career and your growth

I couldn’t even lift up my finger from the keyboard. The Slack message felt like a ton of bricks. Reading it hurt my head. I quickly looked away from my laptop.

The sun rays penetrated though the window glass in my office.

I stared at the dust particles dancing in the light. No plan. No agenda. No stress. They moved up and down. Left and right. Just enjoying the warm glow of the sun.

Something lit up inside me.

It’s been weeks. No, months since I mindfully looked at something so regular as a ray of sunlight. I was filling up with joy. And a bit of tears.

It was autumn of 2022. I officially got burnt out. Working through stacks of projects and weeks without breaks took its toll on me. My body screamed “any other place than work, please!”.

I gave in.

I knew if I didn’t take a full, unashamed break from work now, I may never be able to work. I spoke with my manager. He didn’t see it coming. Because, I hid it so well. Until now.

But not anymore.

I finished the conversation within 15 minutes. He was a good guy. Gave me a week off immediately. He asked me to call back if I needed more days. But, my mind was already shutting down. The end of his sentence didn’t even make it to my ears.

I left work that night.

As I came out of the building, the cool autumn air stabbed at my neck. I felt like a feather. Or like that dust dancing in the sun rays. Weightless. I’m not responsible for anything.

For a whole week.

I had long conversations with my wife, took my family out for dinner, watched birds on the fig tree, rode my bike and jogged in the evenings. I slowly began to come alive. My words were richer. My meanings were deeper. My connections became stronger.

I ended up taking another week off.

I felt stress leaving me like a dark cloud. And relief wash over me like gentle sea waves. Minute by minute. It was a bliss I didn’t want to let go.

This is the story of my first burnout.

Yesterday, I was chatting with a fellow Substacker. He simply asked me “Who is an Exponential Leader?” If you remember, “The Exponential Leader” was the name of my first Substack newsletter.

Here’s what I said: “I was an ambitious middle manager struggling to get to the next level. For years, I burnt the midnight oil, picked my boss's call on the first ring and delivered on all my tasks. Never got promoted. Wasn’t even considered for a promotion. The lessons I learned took me years to learn. I distill these lessons in my newsletter. I was incremental. But my readers can learn from my mistakes and become EXPONENTIAL. Hence the name :-) Long answer, but this is my passion.”

I thought I gave a great answer. A few seconds later, it stung me.

Why should I have to explain this to a potential subscriber? Isn’t my newsletter name speaking for itself?

Clearly, it wasn’t. That’s the valuable lesson I learnt.

I spent a lot of time yesterday thinking about it. The biggest pain I had as a middle manager was not the mistakes I made. Not the lessons I had to learn. Not even the time it took to get promoted to the next level.

It was the grind. Day in and day out. Breathless grind. That eventually burnt me out. A homeless, cold and hungry guy on the side of the road needs warm food. Not a Chanel perfume. Even if he is stinking.

That’s the moment I rebranded my Substack as “The Middle Manager’s Burnout Breaker”

What changed?

I started focusing on behaviours, practices, actions and plays that led to middle manager burnout. And what you should do to proactively avoid those.

How to reclaim your energy and your life so you thrive in your role and grow your career.

Not in the rat race.
Not what your manager fancies.
Not what Tom next door tells you to do.

No. No. No.

ON YOUR TERMS.

That’s it.

Thanks for being here, I’ll see you next Tuesday at 10 am IST.

Vijaya