A Letter to the Leaders Who Are Running on Empty.

After experiencing exhaustion, I realised the need to prioritise my emotional well-being.

A picture of me titled "Running On Empty". Taken by Janine Laag, June 2024.

On a warm noon in May 2019, I sat on the terrace to enjoy the sunlight while having lunch with a teammate. As we settled at our table, she asked how I was doing. Initially, I gave her the standard business response we all tend to use: “I’m well, thanks. Busy.” It seems that being stressed has become something to take pride in.

Studies show we often perceive ourselves as busier than we actually are. The BBC says research shows many people feel more overwhelmed now, even though they work less.

When I returned the question, she surprised me by answering with unexpected vulnerability: “I am making time for the important things.”

“Wow”, responded. “I wish I could do that!” But that interaction adjusted my mindset in many aspects of life.

She later told me her father passed away. So, I instinctively reached for the pack of tissues in my pocket, not knowing what to expect. After all, her sudden vulnerability caught me off-guard, and I wasn’t expecting to have such a tear-jerking conversation during a typical “catch-up” lunch meeting.

While walking home, I reflected on the day my father passed away. My mum called after I stepped outside that day. As I walked, each step sounded louder than the last. A cold wind rushed through the gaps in my coat, making me shiver. There was a profound and unsettling feeling, too. I stood there, frozen, with the wind tugging at my scarf, and all I could do was listen to my mum as my world fell apart around me.

I started the day feeling the weight of those words sink deep into my chest. I always thought there would be more time — another visit, another chat, another chance to share what I hadn’t said.

My co-worker’s sudden vulnerability surprised me and disrupted our usual catch-up meetings. As she openly shared her reality, something shifted within me. Her words hung between us — honest and raw — piercing through our usual autopilot conversations. Her honesty brought back a memory I had tucked away: the morning I received the call about my father’s death.

That day on the terrace, I listened to my teammate and realised how often we carry hidden burdens. We hid our exhaustion behind unemotional expressions and rehearsed practised reactions, expecting ourselves to be steadfast and to keep moving forward no matter what. But what happens when we are running on empty?

We sometimes tend to forget about ourselves during the process. I cannot pour from an empty cup. If I run on empty, I risk losing my compass, energy, joy, and why I started.

What does it actually mean to lead ourselves? What does it mean to lead the life we want? If we pause for a second, we often realise that great discoveries arise from asking thoughtful questions rather than simply seeking accurate answers.

After our chat, I began to envision my ideal life at the age of eighty. This exercise inspired me to start with my future self in mind, which would empower me to take action now to achieve my goals.

It turned out I valued time, purpose, health, and joy. While money can be an enabler, it is not an end. I realised I was playing the game wrong. Research backs this change in view. Science Focus states that more money doesn’t increase happiness after a certain point. What actually matters is the quality of our experiences and relationships. With this new insight, I started to build a framework for designing my life and defining wealth in my own way.

I can evaluate how grounded I am by connecting time, purpose, health, and joy to my wealth. What I am writing now reflects the journey. I began designing my life around what brings me fulfilment and how I define success.

By assessing how grounded I am in these four variables, I can take the necessary steps to act now and not run on empty. This approach enables me to choose what energises me the most. What it feels to be alive. I take a proactive approach, adapting to my changing priorities. This focus has provided me with clarity over the last few years.

I wake up with the rising sun and begin my day with intentional mornings. But it wasn’t always this way. Before, I used to rush through my mornings. I’d immediately dive into emails and notifications, which left me feeling reactive and scattered. Now, I start by enjoying a cup of water with lemon and then sitting in silence for 10 minutes. I love to run outdoors at a national park near my home in the summer. This routine sets the right pace and intention for my day.

In the evenings, before, I rarely felt truly present. I used to rush through workouts before dinner or go straight to gatherings after work without any space to breathe fresh air. I felt that my body and mind were rigid and not in sync. Now, I join social activities that bring me joy. I also take different routes or new things in the evenings without checking my email on weekends.

What actually matters is not a busy calendar or fancy titles. It’s the ability to reflect and say, “Yes, that was me.” I was there for what counted. Whenever unsure, I get back to this question: Am I designing a life I won’t regret when I am eighty? Not a perfect life, but one that feels honest, nourishing, and entirely my own.