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Jaclyn FG's avatar

The biggest lesson I learned from running a multidisciplinary healthcare clinic for 10 years is this. If you hate what you’re doing, it might kill you. In other words, your soul will do what it must to get your attention and your poor health may be a result of following a path that wasn’t meant to be a long term one, but merely a stepping stone to the next. I fought it kicking and screaming and then I said yes to a new path, the one I have been and am still building - a life I love, one I am excited to wake up for in the morning. Thank you for sharing this beautiful advice. As an entrepreneur for 20 years I am still learning. And I love learning from you.

Elsa Razborsek's avatar

Thank you so much for sharing these lessons, Beth. The most important lesson I've learned over the past 15 years is deceptively simple yet transformative: our energy, time, and attention are finite resources, and protecting them isn't selfish — it's essential for survival and success.

I learned this the hard way. Like many people, I grew up with an anxious attachment style that manifested as high-functioning codependency in my adult life. On the surface, I appeared capable and accomplished, but beneath that façade, I was constantly running on empty, saying yes to every request, stretching myself across too many commitments, and prioritising everyone else's needs above my own. I believed that being valuable meant being available, that being successful meant being indispensable, and that being liked meant never disappointing anyone.

The burnout that eventually came wasn't dramatic but erosive. It arrived as a slow depletion, a gradual dimming of the spark that once fueled my ambitions. I found myself exhausted by work I once loved, resentful of commitments I had voluntarily accepted, and disconnected from the very things that mattered most to me. The irony wasn't lost on me: in trying to please everyone, I had abandoned myself.

Eventually, I realised that people-pleasing isn't generosity. It's a fear-based pattern that serves no one well. When we operate from a place of constant accommodation, we don't show up as our best selves. We become depleted, less creative, less present, and ultimately less able to contribute meaningfully to anything or anyone. I had to confront an uncomfortable truth: I wasn't protecting others by saying "yes" to everything; I was protecting myself from the discomfort of potentially disappointing them.

Learning to set and uphold boundaries has become my practice and my priority. This means detaching from other people's expectations (a process that still feels foreign and uncomfortable at times). I've had to unlearn the belief that my worth is measured by my usefulness to others. I've had to practice saying "no" with assertive grace — firmly, clearly, and without excessive justification or apology. "No" is a complete sentence, but it can be delivered with kindness.

Boundaries aren't walls that isolate us; they're the frameworks that allow us to "do what we love for life". When we protect our finite resources, we create space for deep work, meaningful relationships, and sustainable success. We become more reliable because we're not overextended. We show up more fully because we're not running on fumes.

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