This isn’t a post about “how to quit your corporate job immediately” or “how to never work 9 to 5 again”.

This is about making small, sustainable, yet noticeable changes to how you relate to your current job, without changing your external circumstances.

Finding meaning is a basic requirement

Most of us spend more time working than sleeping or any other activity or hobby. We spend more time in contact with our work colleagues than with our partners, friends, and children.

To be happy and satisfied with our lives, it is essential to be mostly content doing the thing that takes up the majority of our time. It doesn't guarantee it, but overall contentment without it is challenging.

Our jobs do not have to be perfect. We do not have to be jumping for joy when our Monday morning alarm goes or whistling with delight at the start of another working week.

But we do need to find meaning in what we are doing, whatever that looks like for us. It might be the subject matter or the interactions we have with colleagues.

We might simply learn to notice how we respond to the circumstances we find ourselves in. By noticing our reactions and zooming out of the drama, even for short moments at a time, we can grow as individuals and have much more choice in how we respond.

That in itself can provide meaning, even when everything else isn't going as we hope or enjoy.

Being realistic about our capacity for change

Often, quitting isn't a viable option for us, despite how stressed we are or unsustainable the situation feels. We have responsibilities and dependents. A lease we signed or a car we need to pay off. Mouths to feed or family members to support. Student loans. Visa or immigration concerns.

The laundry list of real-world obligations and challenges can be extensive and daunting.

There may be intangible reasons why we are not ready to move on. We may still be subconsciously proving ourselves to a parent, or doing what was expected of us by our families and communities.

There may also be quieter, more personal reasons we stay. Our job can become woven into our identity. For me, it was the question: if I’m not Adam the lawyer, then who am I?

I spent years at prestigious law firms, and I’d be lying if I said that didn’t feed something in me. The status, the assumptions people made, the subtle ego boost — it all made it harder to imagine stepping away, even when I knew I was burning out.

Many of us have some version of this. High-achiever, perfectionist, loyal one, resilient survivor — we all carry identities that make leaving feel like losing a part of ourselves. And that’s deeply human.

Fear of the unknown

Even when practical barriers aren’t the issue, fear can keep us stuck. The unknown feels riskier than familiar discomfort, even when that discomfort is draining us.

We tell ourselves stories about wasted years, lost status, or not knowing what comes next. So we stay, convincing ourselves it’s the safer choice.

Sometimes we even repeat the cycle: new job, fresh hope, gradual disillusionment, then restlessness again.

Charting a different course

When an ocean liner makes a 1° turn, the shift in direction is almost imperceptible at first. But over time, that tiny adjustment leads to a completely different destination.

We can make similar small course corrections in how we relate to our work. The environment may stay the same, but our direction — and eventually where we end up — changes.

How I started to change course

When I was working in the law firm, I often enjoyed the work I did and I liked and respected my colleagues. But I knew it didn’t fulfil me to my core and that it never would.

Confusingly, I didn’t know what would fulfil me, and I was not in a financial position to leave. I wasn’t ready. I had more to learn. I was scared of the unknown.

So what did I do? I started to see my job as a playground.

I asked myself: how can I use this not just to be a better lawyer, but for my own growth? As Ram Dass would say, as “grist for the mill.”

I began noticing my perfectionism, my need to prove myself, my competitiveness, how personally I took feedback, how tightly my self-worth was tied to performance, and how hard it was for me to say “no.”

Mary Poppins put it simply: “In every job that must be done, there is an element of fun.” I didn’t take that to mean forced cheerfulness, but an invitation to meet what was already there with curiosity rather than resistance.

Every experience became an opportunity to learn something about myself.

Building different types of connection

It also helped to bring more of my real self into work — not the full, unfiltered version I share with close friends, but something more honest than the polished corporate persona.

I started mentioning parts of my life outside the firm: that I lived in an intentional community, went on silent meditation retreats, attended Burning Man, and drummed in Golden Gate Park on weekends. These weren’t exactly typical lawyer hobbies.

To my surprise, it made work more enjoyable. Conversations became more human, less transactional. It felt like an experiment — sharing a little more and seeing what happened.

Colleagues were often more open and curious than I expected. During a team icebreaker, we were asked to share the first album we bought. A colleague joked that he’d assumed my first album would have been “world drum jams or something like that.” The teasing felt oddly validating. I felt seen — not just as a lawyer, but as a slightly quirky human.

That openness led to more trust and genuine connection. We’re often guarded at work, protecting our roles and livelihoods, but many of the people around us are carrying their own struggles too.

If we spend most of the time pretending to be a different version of ourselves, the alternative version we have created to survive in the workplace will start to permeate the relationships in all facets of our lives.

A small amount of tactful honesty can make the working day feel far less lonely.

Start small, and celebrate your wins

Perhaps the biggest shift came in how I responded to everyday challenges at work. This is where the “playground” idea became real.

I started practicing boundaries. In my role, I was technically available almost 24/7. So when a supervisor asked at short notice if I could join a 5pm client call, I faced a familiar dilemma.

I had plans — a yoga class I didn’t want to miss. After several draft emails, I finally pressed send: I wasn’t available at that time, but would be online later if needed.

It sounds small, but for me it was a monumental win. I had often cancelled on friends or skipped plans for work, until I stopped making plans at all. This time, I chose differently.

One night, drafting a contract at 11pm (a regular occurrence), I noticed the familiar inner voice urging me to make it a work of art — not because the task required it, but to impress my supervisor.

I caught the pattern and laughed. There you go again, Adam, trying to prove your worth. I kept working, but with more awareness and a lighter touch.

I took my job seriously and worked to a very high standard. But I was now able to practice healthy detachment with far less rumination. By bringing awareness to what was happening within me — my insecurities, my fears, my perfectionism — I could zoom out and approach it all with a lightness.

I still did the job well. But I stopped tying my self-worth to the outcome. Instead of being Adam the Lawyer, I was simply Adam practicing law in that moment. Nothing changed externally, yet my stress levels dropped and my work improved.

Accepting reality without collapsing into it

I’m not suggesting we bypass our feelings. I’ve felt deeply frustrated at work. I’ve burned out. I’ve coped in unhealthy ways. These experiences are real, and they matter.

Nor is this about tolerating abuse or staying in situations that harm your safety or mental health. Sometimes external change is necessary.

But many workplaces — especially corporate ones — are high-pressure environments where stress travels quickly from person to person. While some companies genuinely care about employee wellbeing, their primary goal is still commercial success.

That makes it even more important that we learn to care for ourselves. Sometimes that means asking for support or setting limits at work. Sometimes it means giving ourselves what we’re not getting there: rest, nature, honest conversation, or the courage to say, “I don’t have capacity right now.”

When we take responsibility for our own wellbeing, we don’t just help ourselves — we show up more fully for everyone else in our lives, too.

We have more choice than we think

We spend so much of our time working yet we tend to accept our fate when things aren’t as we need them to be.

At the same time, it may be worthwhile investigating which parts of our experience are within our control. Boundaries can be misinterpreted as being actions against another. I view them as acts of self-care that have little to do with the other person.

You may feel powerless and that the situation is completely out of your hands. You may feel angry at what you're reading here. I get that, and I welcome any reflections you may have.

I challenge you to ask yourself:

• Is there a part of my circumstances, even if it's minuscule, that I can change for myself without anybody else doing anything differently?
• Is there a "no" that I have not exercised that would have far lesser consequences than I have made out in my mind?
• How much of the pressure I feel is coming from an external source? How much am I putting on myself?

We may not be able to change everything. But even small shifts in how we respond can begin to change our experience.

Your future self will thank you

When I told my supervisor I wasn’t available for the 5pm call, I felt like I had grown a new layer of skin. The sense of empowerment was electric. I danced alone in my apartment in celebration.

His reply? “Sounds good, will let the client know.” The catastrophe I’d imagined existed only in my head.

The guilt still surfaced, but instead of taking it as a sign I’d done something wrong, I saw it as a chance to understand my old patterns around boundaries. That lesson didn’t just apply to work — it followed me into the rest of my life.

Small actions can create a surprising sense of strength. Which seemingly minor step could you take that might leave your future self quietly celebrating?

We don’t have to figure everything out at once. We may never fully understand the “why” behind our reactions, and that’s okay.

Simply noticing what arises — the anxiety after sending an email, the tension in a difficult meeting, the urge to prove ourselves — slowly loosens its grip. Over time, what once ran us begins to soften.

You may eventually choose a completely different path. You might leave your job, your industry, or redefine success altogether.

But that future doesn’t have to begin with external change. You can start charting a different course now, in the exact circumstances you’re in.

Journaling Prompts

• Is there a difficult conversation with a colleague you are avoiding? Where is your resistance coming from?
• Is there a ‘toxic’ colleague that triggers you regularly? How can you relate differently to them without them changing? 
• Do you feel undervalued and want your employer to finally recognize your worth? What’s stopping you having that conversation?
• Do you need help, support, or simply rest—and find yourself not asking for it?
• In what ways has my job become part of how I define my value? What might shift if my worth didn’t depend so heavily on how I perform or are perceived at work?