Environments That Awaken Us

Some environments hold up a mirror… and you won’t always like what you see.

In my case, that mirror was a workplace with no structure, no discipline… and meetings that could have been emails — or even just a to‑do list — but weren’t.

And you wonder: How the hell do you end up in a place like that?

I’ve always started new jobs with pure enthusiasm. I’m the kind of person people have compared to the Energizer Bunny — full of energy, always moving. Friends would joke that I crammed more into one weekend than they managed in a week. I worked fast, worked hard, and worked a lot… but I also lived a full life outside of work. Friends, outings, classes, hobbies — they all fit in.

For instance, right after university, I was working in internal audit. I’d be up at 4 a.m. to get to the airport by 5, catch a 6 a.m. flight to my next assignment, and arrive late in the morning for the opening meeting with the plant’s management. From there, I’d work a full day. My weeks on the road often ran 60–70 hours. On top of that, I was studying for my accounting designation another 15–20 hours a week. And somehow — thanks to my obsessive organization — I still had time to clean my apartment, see friends in the evenings, and make space for weekend plans.

Work was important to me, but it was never meant to consume me. I’ve always believed that things can be done better, that the status quo should be challenged. Questioning how and why I do things is second nature to me, and it’s served me well.

Early in my career, I worked for a company that was certified 5S — even in the office. During the day my desk might look like a volcano erupted on it, but every evening everything was put neatly away. Every morning, I’d arrive to a clean slate, ready to go. That order, that structure, felt like home.

Over the years, I took part in countless projects where small changes led to major improvements. I had a system — one that evolved with me and worked almost every time. I was never afraid of extra responsibility because I saw it as a chance to learn and grow.

But here’s the thing: in the wrong soil, even your brightest qualities can turn toxic. And if you dare to look in the mirror that environment holds up, you’ll see the dark side of what you thought were your strengths.

One place I worked in particular didn’t break me — it exposed me. And thank God it did, because it showed me exactly what parts of myself couldn’t come with me into my next chapter.

Within a month of starting there, I knew something was off. So much had been neglected that there was far more to do than my four‑hour interview had led me to believe. Still, I thought: I can fix this. It has so much potential. I can bring heart, consciousness, life into this place.

Turns out… that place was designed to test my patience, my values, and possibly my sanity.

And the wild part? The very qualities I thought were my greatest strengths — dedication, ability to “do it all,” high standards — were actually my deepest coping mechanisms in disguise.

- Hyper‑organization that made me take on work far beyond my role.

- Filling the gaps where no one else would — including the ones my boss should have filled.

- Being overly available because, well, “open‑door policy,” right?

- Holding on to employees I should have let go because “everyone can learn and grow,” right?

- Over‑responsibility dressed up as leadership.

- Perfectionism pretending to be pride.

- People‑pleasing waltzing in like, Hi! I’m just here to help!

One of the clearest examples of this? The HR manager position — probably the most frequently replaced role in the company — became vacant yet again. At one point, both the HR manager and the Paymaster left at the same time. Without my boss even asking, I stepped in and took over both roles. I taught myself how to process payroll for all employees, wrote hiring and termination letters, reviewed internal HR policies… all while handling the entire accounting cycle on my own, because I still didn’t have a controller. And of course, the year‑end close was looming — just a few weeks before a vacation I had already planned.

By that point, I was starting to realize just how deep the problems ran — but I was still clinging to the hope that things could improve.

Then came the morning of the year‑end inventory. The inventory analyst — who also reported to the inventory manager — got a text from his boss saying he wouldn’t be there. He had “more pressing matters” to attend to… a charity event. Under normal circumstances, maybe that wouldn’t have been such a big deal. But this manager was never there.

Our boss wasn’t there either, assuming the inventory manager would show up and that there were enough people to handle the count. On top of that, the analyst had already given his resignation — and that day was his last. The plan was for his manager to take over his tasks until they could hire someone new… except now the manager was missing in action.

I went up to my office, shut the door, and I was furious. I wanted to hit the wall but instead picked up the phone and called my boss to lay out the situation. We ended up in a screaming match. I told him I hoped things would change soon because I could not keep working with people who didn’t understand the importance of their job or even showing up.

When I hung up, I felt completely drained — and deep down, I knew nothing was going to change. Yet it would take me another year before I finally handed in my resignation.

I remember one day in particular. I was working from home, sitting at my desk in the basement. The wall in front of me was blank — no pictures, no posters — but in my mind’s eye, I saw it clearly: the mirror. The reflection of everything this place was doing to me… and everything I was doing to myself.

It was the day after a rough board meeting. My boss had stayed silent through every hard question, avoiding eye contact with the President and Directors, then later criticized me for not answering them the way he wanted. I had been left exposed, expected to carry the weight of the meeting alone.

From that point on, every time I went into the office, something would trigger me — a situation, a person, a small moment — and I’d see it from a new, often painful angle. The mirror followed me everywhere, ruthless and unblinking.

I stayed for another year and a half after that. At first, I convinced myself things might get better. When someone who had benefitted from my over‑functioning left, I thought, Maybe now things will change.

I was wrong. They only got worse.

I took on even more responsibilities, more employees, more weight than I could carry. When I finally left, I was completely drained — physically, mentally, emotionally. My entire body ached. I had neglected myself for years. My mind was in a constant state of freeze. Some days, even taking a shower felt like it cost more energy than I had.

If you’ve gone through something like this, you might recognize the pattern:

You didn’t go looking for the job — it just landed in your lap. The recruiter called at the perfect time. The interviews were smooth. You clicked instantly with your future manager. Everything seemed aligned.

And maybe… it was.

Because here’s the truth: as awful as that job was, it wasn’t just the job. It was my own hell.

No one forced me to take on too much, to show up too much, to hold it together too much, to carry responsibilities that weren’t mine. That place simply reflected what was already in me — the little girl who helped her overworked mother, the eldest sibling making sure the younger ones were okay, the daughter who took care of things when her mother couldn’t, the “good girl” who never made things harder for anyone else.

It wasn’t the company’s fault. My formative years shaped me that way. The anger, the pain, the rage I felt toward that place were echoes of wounds I had carried for decades.

When I finally quit and saw all this clearly, I felt… lost. If I wasn’t the hyper‑organized, over‑responsible, over‑caring “mama bear” anymore — then who was I?

I’ve always had a creative side in equal measure to my rational side. But for most of my life, I only fed one of them — the rational one. Now, I not only have the opportunity but the deep desire to live a balanced life where I don’t deny any part of myself. That place, as toxic as it was, gave me that realisation. It awakened my very core — my very essence — by showing me exactly what stood in the way of my true self.

Then I realized: I can be anyone I want.

So if you’re in an environment that feels impossible right now… maybe it’s not here to destroy you. Maybe it’s here to show you what needs to change so you can find your own path again — the one you were always meant to walk.

Sometimes the mirror is harsh. Sometimes it’s merciful. But if you dare to look, it will show you exactly what you need to see.