Leaving Through the Side Door

Working without pay.
Multiple jobs, one paycheck.
Absorbing blame from management.
Rest is seen as a privilege.
Learning that looks like labor.

These sound like workplace violations, right?

I’ve lived every single one. And instead of questioning the system, I questioned myself. I don’t say this for pity. I say it because I know I’m not alone.

For a long time, I believed burnout was my fault, that I lacked resilience, discipline, or grit.  I thought better time management, more positivity, or greater effort would finally satisfy the machine.   We are told that if you work hard, endure, and follow the path carved by the generations before you, success will follow.

It wasn’t until I shifted my focus from myself to examining the structures themselves that something changed.

There is a game most of us are taught to play from a very early age, without ever agreeing to the rules. The premise is simple: keep up, outperform, outlast.

Few make it to the end with stability, rest, or recognition. Where you start, what you carry, and the losses that alter how you move through the world are rendered irrelevant. The message is clear: only the strong survive, if you try hard enough.

The game rarely announces itself outright. It appears as ambition, opportunity, or a path toward growth and promotion. It shows up through comparison, competition, scarcity, and constant urgency. Perform or disappear. Produce or fall behind. Adapt or be replaced.

What makes the game so effective is how early we learn it and how normal it comes to feel.

For a long time, I fixated on the game’s unfairness. I resisted accepting it, unable to understand why everyone else seemed to. Eventually, I realized the answer was simple: there was no alternative. Over time, that outrage turned inward. I became ruthless with myself, convinced I was not enough to survive it.

Over time, another realization emerged.

I realized I had not failed the system. I had rejected it. The pain came from trying to conform to something I did not believe in. In trusting that refusal, I found a different kind of peace. Not resignation, and not an attempt to change the rules from within. In the world as it stands today, that has proven to be a losing battle.

I simply chose to stop playing. I recognize my privilege in being able to make that choice. But it raised a question I could not ignore. If more people questioned the rules instead of internalizing them, could something change for everyone shaped by the system?

That choice matters more than we are taught to believe. In a culture that ties worth to output, opting out is framed as laziness or disengagement. On purpose. To make conformity feel inevitable.

But sometimes opting out is not withdrawal. It is the body recognizing what no longer fits within a system that demands constant self monitoring, comparison, and depletion in exchange for belonging.

This is not about one industry or one workplace. The logic of the game shows up everywhere when you begin to notice. Offices and institutions. Creative fields and helping professions. Even spaces that call themselves values driven or purpose led. Different aesthetics. Same underlying rules.

Efficiency becomes morality.
Busyness becomes proof.
Rest becomes conditional.

And a result, exhaustion becomes the evidence.

At some point, I stopped asking, How do I survive this?
And started asking, Why is survival the standard at all?
That question changed everything.

To be clear, this is not an anti-work stance in the slightest.  I believe deeply in effort.  In discipline.  In craft.  In becoming the fullest version of yourself through meaningful work.  I believe in showing up, stretching your capacity, and committing to what matters.

What I do not believe in is treating people as endlessly renewable, yet disposable, resources. Because we are not.

There is a difference between work that challenges and work that consumes.  Between growth that expands and pressure that extracts.  Working hard is not the problem.  Confusing depletion with excellence is.

Most solutions offered inside the game focus on helping people endure it better.  Taco Tuesdays.  Mandatory company retreats.  Wellness Wednesdays.  Just make sure all your work still gets done.

Teaching individuals how to cope within an unsustainable system does not make the system healthy.  It only delays the cost.

I have outgrown environments that require exhaustion to prove worth.

I will not sacrifice what is tender in me to belong.
Opting out is not weakness. It is discernment.
A refusal to mistake survival for success.

And this is where The Organic Workplace begins.