I want to have a conversation. I want to talk about what happens when your passion becomes your work.

When you’re one of the blessed, adventurous, enterprising, soulful few who find a viable lifestyle doing what you love.

And in the interest of full disclosure, I’m coming to this discussion with the belief that the experience of doing work that nibbles away at your heart just so you can pay the bills – um, sucks.

OK. It’s a necessary thing for most of us at some point. Hell, I’ve worn a hairnet and cleaned toilets and punched a time card. And look, sometimes you’re not head over heels for what you’re doing between 9 and 5, but there’s a family to feed, and the law firm has amazing health care benefits, and yougottadowhatchuyougottado. I’m definitely not out to knock folks in that boat, no way, no how.

But sometimes being in that place kinda sucks, because who you want to be can get lost amid the work you have to do.

At one extreme of the work & identity conundrum, your identity is hard to find with two hands and a flashlight.

It can feel like: who the hell am I under the dress code? Under all that discontent. Boredom. The nagging feeling of being a fraud. You get up, you commute, you work, you commute, you eat, you forget about work for a bit, you go to bed to get up early and do it all again. Until you retire. And then you die.

Wow. Yep, that’s totally a caricature and likely not at all the way happy workerbees experience it. But for some folks, that’s the way it can feel.

So we move into a different paradigm, into work that is rooted in our passions and looks more like the person we want to be in five years. Ooohh, the work that sizzles.

Danielle LaPorte says:

When passion is a priority – passion for family, vocation, for meaning – your energy intensifies. And when your energy is more focused, more “aimed”, you begin to care less about the things that don’t really matter. You avoid crappy jobs, you stop over-controlling your kids, you nag and complain much less – with everyone. You get the help you need to pull off the important things – whether you’re a CEO or an aspiring freelancer, and that support takes the form of a house cleaner, a VA, or a friend or mentor to jam with.

And then the quest for “balance,” with all the sexiness of a McCormick seasoning blend packet, is moot, because passion fuels really great work.

Again, the Gorgeous D-La:

If you want to do great things, striving for balance is a losing game. I don’t think remarkable artists, scientists, activists, entrepreneurs, or generous souls set out on their giving journeys with the aim to be measured and harmonious. Meeting your potential is inherently full of tension (creative tension.) Trying to be balanced about it is onerous and futile.
Getting “balanced” is not the remedy to stress. Passion is.

Ok, yes! With a caveat.

At this other extreme of the work & identity conundrum, your identity can also be hard to find with two hands and a flashlight.

When work, even beloved work, is allowed to consume your identity, burnout is not far behind.

You’re never off the clock. That laptop follows you on vacation.

The little things start to accumulate. You learn not to love your passion because it’s your work.

You realize that there’s a bundle of raw nerves in your stomach where the fire in your belly used to be. Shit.

Professional failures start to appear as personal failings.

And then you burn out. Snuffed, blown, and burned the hell out.

Look, here’s the thing.

Passion isn’t the only remedy for stress. It. can’t. be.

For those of us who err on the side of losing ourselves in work that we love, work that’s an extension of our creative dreams, the buffer is self-care. It’s recognizing when to let go. When to trust that the work — and your ability to handle it gracefully and brilliantly — will be there for you when you return.

There’s more to us than our work, no matter how much we love it. No matter how much it fulfills us, or how much passion we have for it.

If you temporarily need to be in an all-consuming creative process bubble, more power to you.

But people buy from people. I don’t hire a business; I hire someone I connect with. Ergo, keeping an interesting, compelling business running requires that people have the energy and creativity to do it.

You just can’t get there by running yourself ragged. And you just can’t fake it.

It’s easy to tell when you’re on the phone with someone who’s stressed and anxious and overworked. It’s palpable.

Here’s the point.

I don’t think that I’m disagreeing with Danielle here. She calls for “full on stillness, full on life.” But I am reiterating that for some people, the “full on life” required to reboot may be more subtle than passionate.

Sometimes quiet release and conscious disengagement serves me better than forcing myself to rally and be more passionate about relaxing.

Make sense?