I’m not lazy. I’m just done performing.

When hustling harder isn’t the answer

Two weeks ago, I did something wild: I slowed down at work. Not because I hit the jackpot or suddenly had everything figured out. I stopped because the hustle wasn’t working. I was busting my hump trying to find more work, stressing about the silence, and the constantc "when else can I do?" spirals. I was in a terrible state of stress, and nothing seemed to be working.

It wasn’t just burnout. It was the brutal realization that all that desperate effort wasn’t creating anything new. It was keeping me stuck. So, I made a decision: slow the hell down. Give myself space to think. To breathe. To maybe even be creative again.

When your identity is built around being the reliable one—the fixer, the achiever—slowing down doesn’t immediately feel like self-care. It feels like failure. It feels like giving up.

But as soon as I stepped back, I decided to focs on things that give me energy. So I stopped chasing the wrong work, made time for myself to get creative, and started writing. Not for a client. Not for a deliverable. Just for me (and some for you).

Writing more routinely gave me something I hadn’t felt in a while: momentum that didn’t make me want to crawl out of my skin. Somehow, in the act of doing less (but also more, because let's face it, writing is not easy!), I started building something more meaningful. And now I am committed to writing here daily. Thanks for reading.

Slower doesn't mean smaller

I’m trying really hard to focus on the positive because honestly, that feels like the best way to live right now. I want to be happy—not fake-happy, not “crushing it” happy, not “optimizing your 5 a.m. cold plunge” happy.

Actual happy. The kind where you like your own damn life.

And weirdly, the more I focused on what actually made me feel good—thinking, writing, being vulnerable—the more it started to show up in my work.

Last week, I spoke on a panel about burnout. And for the first time in a long time, I didn’t show up trying to be “Professional Brett.” I didn’t water myself down. I showed up spicy, honest, and a little raw. And people responded to it, because it was real.

The DMs I got after weren’t “Let’s connect!” garbage. They were genuine compliments about how refreshing it was to see someone be honest about work and burnout without making it feel like a TED Talk or a therapy session.

It made me realize: being my full, messy self isn’t just tolerated now. It’s my best move.

Letting go to make space

These days, I’m reclaiming my energy. I’m doubling down on being loud, vulnerable, and spicy AF because it’s fun. Because it’s real. Because it feels like living, not just surviving.

At the same time, I’m quietly detaching from the things and people that drain me.
The old rules—the ones that said "you have to cling to what you built even if it’s killing you"—they’re losing their grip on me. Maybe the career I built is dying. Maybe it’s just evolving. Either way, I’m allowed to create the next version without apologizing.

Dreaming about a smaller life

The other night, I read a post from a woman who left UX design to work at Trader Joe’s—and she’s thrilled. I thought about that way longer than I should have.

I dream about this kind of shift sometimes. Maybe not bagging groceries (although based on that post, Trader Joe’s does seem like it's good vibes all around), but something simpler. A food truck. A little bookstore. Something real, something human.

Right now, that dream is not realistic for me. But the craving for a simpler life is real—and for the first time, I’m not ashamed of it. Whether it’s my career, the world, or just my soul throwing up a white flag, I’m paying attention.

Redefining what success feels like

I’m not lazy. I’m the opposite. I’m just learning to channel my energy into things that fill me up instead of hollowing me out. And the wild thing is: it’s working!

I’m writing again, but in an even more authentic voice.
I’m working on four upcoming conference talks (so excited to announce these!)
I'll be offering a DPM Summer Camp training series soon.
I’m rewriting one book, starting another.
I'm networking in new circles.
I’m building a bigger future, even if it moves slower.

The future feels bright—not because I finally "fixed" myself, but because I stopped trying to fix a system that was never built to care if I burned out.

I unsubscribed from the myth that your worth is your workload. Now? I’m building something better. Slower. Louder. Entirely mine.

TL;DR
You’re not lazy, and you’re not broken. You’re just done being a machine for other people’s dreams. You’re allowed to want more, to start over, and to finally be enough for yourself.