Illustration by Romain Lasser
A few years back, I left Thanksgiving dinner to take a work call from my former boss. A colleague had unexpectedly quit. Someone needed to lead a production meeting with the overseas team. A meeting that was happening in 15 minutes. The thought of saying no never really occurred to me. Despite the fact it was Sunday evening – despite family at the table and a full plate of turkey – the job came first.
The truth is that without my work, I have trouble knowing who I am. It can feel like if I’m not constantly working, the momentum of my career will grind to a halt or I might cease to exist entirely. It’s a habit I’ve shared with a lot of my peers across various professions. But a recent announcement has me rethinking that mentality.
Adam Turla is the front man for indie rock/alt-country act Murder By Death. After a 20-plus year career – gigs alongside rock band My Chemical Romance, appearing in the trailer for Quentin Tarantino’s Inglourious Basterds and the backing of a cult fan base – the singer recently announced his band would be wrapping things up with a farewell tour and album. Since the pandemic, the cost-to-benefit ratio of the work was getting harder to make sense. So was the balance sheet.
“A joke in our house is the idea of living your dream. It’s like … was this my dream? I never imagined it this way,” he said during a recent call. In addition to writing and performing music, the workload included packing and sending T-shirts, paperwork, social media, driving, set design and project managing, among other odd jobs.
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I’ve always admired Turla and his band for their DIY ethos. I’ve followed their career for years, interviewing the group each time they announced a new album or Kickstarter project. But chatting through the decision to end things, two decades of doing it yourself – a near constant hustle – left him sounding pretty tired.
“Something can be successful and unsustainable at the same time. I’m not trying to say I’m not grateful for what we’ve got to do, but I don’t want anyone to have to work as much as I have worked for this band. I don’t think it’s normal to give everything for a job.”
Feeling run down with your job is a common experience. A recent survey from consulting firm Robert Half stated that nearly half of Canadians feel burnt out at their work. That number is up 14 per cent from 2023. The 1,500 professionals surveyed attributed the burnout to long hours, mental fatigue and insufficient work-life balance. It’s the kind of stress that can seep into every area of your life. Especially if you’re the type of person whose identity gets wrapped up in your work.
“You can definitely feel burned out in a job that you enjoy. When someone really values excellence and wants people to think that they’re really performing at a high level, it can even contribute to overworking,” said Amanda Tobe, a Toronto-based organizational psychologist.
Tobe and her associates specialize in career-focused psychological services. According to doctors, the inability to set boundaries with your employer or yourself – such as defining appropriate workloads and off-the-clock hours – can lead to resentment and stress. But how do you navigate these things when you’re living out the life you wanted?
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Figuring out how to differentiate between your work and your personal life can be a struggle. Achieving any sort of success – especially in competitive fields – usually requires some sort of personal sacrifice. But many people driven by professional accomplishments find a perpetually changing set of goalposts. Once they get something, they want something bigger. Sometimes even maintaining the pace of work can feel like a tremendous slog.
“I felt like I’d given up a lot, made many sacrifices, because that’s just what you were supposed to do to get ahead,” said Amil Niazi, an author and journalist behind the coming book Life After Ambition. Expanding on her viral essays for The Cut, Niazi’s writing is a funny and biting look at what happens when we stop prioritizing career goals above everything else.
“When those sacrifices didn’t lead anywhere … I was like: I’m not going to play this game. I’m going to figure out what makes me happy and figure out what kind of work I can do that’s fulfilling and satisfying on my own terms,” she said.
While raising kids during the pandemic, Niazi realized that the grind mentality she’d embodied to get ahead in her field seemed less appealing. It kept her from spending quality time with her family while stripping her of the things she liked about her work in the first place. Still, drawing lines between her professional and personal life felt hard.
“I’m closer to knowing now more than ever before what makes me happy, what drives me, what excites me creatively and professionally. And I only could have done that by separating myself from certain companies or industries,” said Niazi. “You are not your job. You are not where you work. And that’s a very scary thought to have, because what happens next?”
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It’s a question I’ve been thinking about a lot. At the moment, I haven’t made a lot of space for anything in my life outside my work. I’d assumed that this was the time in my life – mid-30s with a bit of momentum in my industry – to give it everything I had. But looking around at friends getting married, having kids, taking real time away from work, I wonder about the sacrifices I’m making. Would I be better off doing less? Could it make me happier?
Earlier this summer, I got to watch Murder By Death play the Toronto date of their farewell tour. The experience reminded me of the scene in Tom Sawyer, with Huck Finn and Tom attending their own funeral. The band played as fans lamented their end, expressing their gratitude and love for the music while seeing it for the last time.
From the balcony, I watched the crowd below sing and dance, hanging on to every note from the group. It was easy to forget my earlier conversation with Turla about 16-hour days fulfilling merchandise orders for T-shirt sales and gruelling late-night drives getting to the next gig.
After the set, I caught the singer before everyone started packing the trailer. We chatted about life after the final tour. Turla and wife Sarah Balliet – Murder By Death’s cello player and the other driving force behind the band – will spend days helping at their restaurant Pizza Lupo in Louisville, Ky., and enjoy some well-earned time at home with their pup Robocop. But what the front man seemed most excited by was the opportunity to create without the pressure of art needing to pay the rent.
“I just want to look at something and say, hey, I wrote this because I wanted to,” said Turla.
It sounded nice. Specifically because it wasn’t about work.
