When Work Becomes You: Emptiness and Lost Purpose from Workaholism

Hustle culture’s trapdoor to disconnection and burnout

I still remember when I was starting out in my media career around the year 2000. Back then, the common definition of hard work—at least among laypeople—was multitasking. The belief was that you could get more done by working double or even triple time.

Multitaskers weren’t called hustlers; they were seen as efficient workers who earned praise and commendations from their bosses—though not necessarily salary increases.

At the time, the word “hustler” often carried a negative connotation. It could be synonymous with being an expert, but in a shady or dishonest way—like a con artist, a pickpocket, or a swindler.

Today, however, being a “hustler”—someone juggling side jobs—has become normalised, largely as a way to make ends meet amid high inflation and stagnant wages. Nevertheless, hustle culture breeds workaholism by promoting relentless productivity at the expense of well-being. It normalises long work hours and fosters a constant “always-on” mindset.

Hustle culture encourages sacrificing mental and physical health in the name of success, equating busyness with achievement. It often creates pressure to overwork and always be available, turning these habits into cultural expectations. This relentless drive for professional success can lead to compulsive work behaviors that mirror the patterns of workaholism.

It’s easy to confuse being a workaholic with having a sense of purpose. But working endlessly isn’t purpose—it’s often a distraction. It can leave people burned out, disconnected, and questioning what they were really chasing in the first place.

We live in a world where people are often defined by what they do. Ask someone, “Tell me about yourself,” and chances are they’ll start talking about their job. Sure, careers give us structure, and titles can feel like identity—but when that’s all we are, we risk losing ourselves over time. At worst, we become generic. Think about the millions of engineers, CEOs, journalists, or art directors or singers out there who share the same title. Why trade the uniqueness you were born with for the fleeting recognition that comes from a job label?

Here is a small challenge: Ask yourself, ‘Who am I?’ without citing your job title or the work that you do. ‘Who are you?’ in your own eyes and in the eyes of others?

Winning but isolated

Being a workaholic isn’t the same as being passionate or driven. Passion has boundaries; it includes rest, relationships, and time to reflect. Workaholism doesn’t. It’s compulsive, often fueled by insecurity, fear of failure, or a need for validation. It hides behind ambition but delivers emptiness in the long run.

The reality is that success doesn’t always guarantee fulfillment. We often romanticise stories of relentless work ethic—the entrepreneur who sleeps only four hours a night, the artist who sacrifices everything for their craft, the executive who climbs the ladder at the expense of everything else. But many of these stories don’t end well.

I’ve heard countless “successful” individuals admit that it’s a lonely journey to the top—or that the top itself is a lonely place to be.

Anthony Bourdain, who died by suicide in 2018, was a world-renowned chef, writer, and television personality whose career soared after the success of his book Kitchen Confidential. He spent the last decades of his life traveling, filming, and working almost constantly. While he achieved global recognition, close friends and colleagues later described him as often lonely and exhausted. In interviews, Bourdain spoke openly about his struggles with happiness and admitted to feeling emotionally isolated despite his success.

A life half-lived

Work isn’t the “monster”. Meaningful work can provide a sense of purpose—but only as part of a balanced life. When it becomes the sole purpose, people begin to lose touch with their families, health, and joy.

Workaholics often don’t realise they’re running on empty until they crash. They skip meals, avoid vacations, brush off friends, and numb stress by working more. Burnout becomes a badge of honor. But when they finally pause—or are forced to—the emptiness hits hard.

Workaholism can become a defining way of life. When people stop overworking, they often feel a loss of purpose or identity. The compulsion to work is closely tied to self-worth, with many workaholics measuring their value through achievement and productivity. In this mindset, work isn’t just a job—it becomes a primary source of validation.

When that intensity fades, it can trigger a deep emotional void. Without the constant rush of productivity, they may confront feelings of shame, sadness, or emptiness—emotions long buried under endless activity. For some, work served as a way to avoid internal distress or unresolved pain, so stopping allows those feelings to resurface.

Many former workaholics describe the transition as difficult. Anxiety, guilt, and a persistent sense of dissatisfaction can arise when productivity no longer defines their identity. Rebuilding a sense of meaning beyond work takes time—and often, a complete reorientation of what truly matters.

Elon Musk, a South African-born American entrepreneur, businessman, and investor, is best known for co-founding and leading Tesla, SpaceX, and X (formerly Twitter). He has made headlines not only for his innovations but also for his extreme work habits. Musk has admitted to working up to 120 hours a week, sleeping on factory floors, and rarely taking breaks. In a 2018 interview with The New York Times, he said: “There were times when I didn’t leave the factory for three or four days—days when I didn’t go outside… This has really come at the expense of seeing my kids. And seeing friends.”

Loneliness, the other side of glory

Many people chase career milestones believing they’ll finally feel secure or worthy once they hit that next goal. But it’s often a moving target. The truth is, if you don’t feel whole now, no promotion or paycheck will fix that.

Working non-stop can also be a way to avoid discomfort: fear of failure, fear of being alone, or confronting deeper emotional wounds. It’s a socially acceptable form of avoidance, even admired. But over time, the loneliness builds.

People lose touch with their children growing up, their partners leaving, or their own health deteriorating—all while answering emails at midnight. What’s the reward? A bigger title? A fancier house they’re never in?

Though not traditionally labelled a workaholic, Actor Jim Carrey’s meteoric rise in Hollywood came with a heavy emotional toll. In interviews and speeches, he has spoken openly about how fame and career highs didn’t resolve his internal struggles. “I wish everyone could get rich and famous and everything they ever dreamed of so they can see that’s not the answer,” he once said. Carrey—of Ace Ventura, Dumb and Dumber, Batman Forever, and other blockbuster hits—came to understand that work and recognition couldn’t replace peace of mind or genuine self-worth. It was only after stepping away from the spotlight that he began to reconnect with what truly mattered to him as a person.

Finding a real sense of purpose

If work isn’t our life’s purpose, then what is?

Purpose isn’t a job title—it’s connection, authenticity, and being true to yourself. It’s waking up and feeling at peace with who you are, not just what you do. It’s knowing that if your job disappeared tomorrow, you’d still have value.

If someone asked, “Who are you?” what would you say? Would you still answer, “the owner of this company,” “a teacher,” “a parent,” or “the retired 90s pop star”? Or would you be brave enough to just say your name—with no labels attached?

No matter how others may judge you—whether they say you have no personality, no use to society, or eyes you as a loser, jobless, or someone without achievements—would you still be okay with simply being you?

In general, here are some ways to build a fuller sense of purpose:

Relationships: Prioritising time with loved ones isn’t a luxury; it’s a necessity. No career win compares to meaningful human connection.

Service: Helping others or being part of something bigger than yourself can create deeper fulfillment than any personal accolade.

Creativity and Curiosity: Doing things just for the joy of them—not because they’re productive—keeps us human.

Rest: Purpose also comes through pause. Clarity often shows up in the quiet.

Life is short – breathe, live

Being a workaholic might get you awards, praise, maybe even wealth. But it won’t give you purpose—not the kind that fills the soul or gives life meaning. Purpose lives in your relationships, your values, your inner peace. And none of those come from working yourself into the ground.

The people we often admire most—innovators, creators, leaders—many of them tell the same story when the noise dies down: they wish they’d slowed down. They wish they’d been more present. They wish they’d lived.

So, take it from them—don’t wait until the end to realise that being busy isn’t the same as being fulfilled. You weren’t born to work 24/7 or 80 hours a week. You were born to live.

Decoupling from workaholism

If you’ve been stuck in the trap of working constantly, the way out isn’t instant—but it is possible.

Redefine success – start by asking: What does success actually mean to me? Not what my job or society says—me. If the answer includes peace, time, connection, or health, then that’s your new guide.

Set boundaries by limit hours of work and scheduling time off. Protect your weekends. These are not indulgences—they’re lifelines.

Reconnect with people. Call a friend. Hug your kid. Take your partner on a walk. Relationships need attention, not leftovers.

Ask for help. Therapy, coaching, or even candid talks with people who’ve been through burnout can help you recalibrate. You don’t have to figure it all out alone.

Remember this: You are not your job. Jobs come and go. Titles change. Applause fades; curtain falls; admirers forget. But who you are—the part that loves, laughs, and grows; the creation meant to seek an authentic life through God’s love … that part remains. It never retires.

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