Sorting Through a Hard Week

Photo by Chris Liverani on Unsplash

This Saturday, I’m accompanying my wife to a workshop she’s helping put together here in Hillsborough, North Carolina. The event is at the public library, and while she’ll be busy for a few hours, I decided to carve out some quiet time for myself—find a corner, gather my thoughts, and get some reading done. I’m nearly finished with one of the books I’ve been slowly working through over the last few days, but my mind has also been very preoccupied with work. That shouldn’t surprise anyone who’s been reading my posts lately.

One thing that’s been on my mind constantly these last few days is what it feels like to reach a point in your career where you’ve accumulated enough experience to feel confident in your abilities, yet you start wondering how long you’re willing to keep doing the same role without it becoming repetitive.

You can think about it like this: imagine you’re a seasoned baker, someone who knows exactly how to prepare dough and all the ingredients needed to make a specific kind of bread. You know every detail—temperature, timing, texture. But one day you realize that making the dough isn’t as exciting as it used to be. It’s not that baking bread isn’t meaningful; it’s that you find yourself yearning for something more challenging, something different.

That’s the kind of thought I’ve been wrestling with. Because of everything that’s happened at work lately—the stress, the long hours, the constant need to keep things from falling apart—I haven’t had much space to explore new ideas, experiment, or innovate. My time has been consumed with going back to basics, fixing foundational things, and holding everything together.

Still staying in the analogy: I haven’t had much chance to try making new kinds of bread, or to push myself beyond the fundamentals. And I’m starting to wonder if making bread is still as fulfilling as it used to be. I do think it’s important. I do think it matters. And I still care deeply about the work I do. But after so many years preparing dough, I’m more interested in getting others involved in that process—to see what they can create—and then focusing myself on what comes after the dough is made. The bigger, more exciting work.

I spoke with a friend today who made me realize just how bogged down I’ve become in the basics. The real joy and motivation behind my work—the part that used to sit in the driver’s seat—has slowly ended up riding shotgun while I try to patch up the small things. Being in that position for too long makes it hard not to feel frustrated or resentful, especially when some of the reasons behind it feel valid. Going back to basics will help in some ways. But it still feels like a step backward, and it’s hard to tell whether it’s “one step back, two steps forward,” or just… a step back.

If you came to me tomorrow and handed me a magic wand—one that could grant any professional wish—I could tell you exactly what aspects of my work I’d want more of, and what things I wouldn’t want to carry anymore. But even with all of that, the final vision is still a little blurry. I’m not entirely sure what that ultimate destination looks like.

Maybe, because the year is coming to an end, I’ll have a chance to reflect—to look back at what I’ve accomplished and what I’ve struggled with, and see whether something clicks into place. I still have plenty of fuel in the tank, and I want to keep doing this work. But some things have been draining my energy and stealing momentum from the parts I love most.

This year has included a handful of managerial tasks that, while part of being a people manager, have drained a lot of time, energy, and joy—pulling me away from puzzles, problem-solving, and technical challenges. So what does that mean for me as a team lead? What does it mean to be responsible for a group of engineers doing complex, exciting work?

The first thought that comes to mind is that maybe I need a buffer—someone who can take on some of those draining responsibilities—so I can focus on what matters most to me right now. It’s not that I don’t value helping my associates grow, improve, and reach their goals. I absolutely do. But right now, what I really want is to get in the car, open the sunroof, step on the gas, and drive as fast as I can for a stretch. I just need someone in the passenger seat to keep the luggage from flying out the back as I speed through this phase.