I call it the "Elon Musk syndrome." Our culture glamourizes overwork to the point of exhaustion, and we all need to rethink that.

Being ambitious is great, but the glamorization of overwork, especially as a student with 20 deadlines and the pressure to figure out all this life stuff, concerns me. 

Glamourization of overwork

Among the signs of Elon Musk syndrome, a big one is the desire to one-up each other's work–students bragging about all-nighters, putting work before social life, or not taking breaks. 

In the past I’ve dealt with issues by overworking myself. It can be great to channel your worries into work, but we live in a world where productivity can become our identity.

Studies have shown that people can die from overwork when it results in stroke and heart disease. People who work 55 or more hours a week, compared to 40, face a 35% higher risk of stroke. 

On a more personal level, I know people who avoid LinkedIn and social media because of this. Instagram and LinkedIn are just highlight reels. The other day I felt it was almost wrong to enjoy working at my job because the narrative is you should be tired and overworked constantly to be successful. So if I genuinely enjoy my work, is sharing that weird?

Focus on yourself 

In articles called things like “7 habits of millionaires” or “How billionaires spend their Mornings,” the common theme is a focus on productivity. They suggest things like meditation, not for your health but so you can be more productive at work.

I have been the person volunteering all over campus, making an effort to be present for others, and being obsessed with progress. I am not completely past that stage and I don’t think I ever will be. But to stop myself from burning out, these are some signs I look out for:  

• Spending most of your week alone.
• Limited communication with family and friends.
• Ignoring your health (oversleeping or undersleeping, ordering out food)
• Burn out (emotional and professional)
• No time for self-care
• More focus on professional goals than personal goals

Equating value to professional success

Despite my conservative background, I had a supportive father who moved cities so I could explore internships, who picked me up from work and listened to work stories. I also had incredibly hardworking brothers but not a lot of career-focused female role models.

I have been working since I was 16, and I don’t recall a summer spent on vacation since. I can’t recall a time I truly relaxed either. I wanted to prove that women can work and do really well in a society where men were pushed to succeed professionally and women around me focused on running charity events at best or gave up careers to stay home.

My work performance affected my self-worth. And still does some days. 

On another level, I met people who’s whole career was geared to being financially stable and then some. They compromised everything despite being aware of the direction it was taking. Some of them genuinely could not separate their identity from work. As someone from a post-colonial third world country, I understand this survival mindset. I will lay down roots, be stable and then if there is time, I will dream.

Approval over personal growth 

I come from a conservative society where financial freedom as a woman is not a goal. It is more respectful to depend on the men in your life and focus on the home. Women quit their jobs under pressure from family or in-laws later in life. Successful female doctors became housewives and wasted years of expensive education in my own family to raise kids. Their husbands continued their practice. 

But the same societies put pressure on its male occupants to be the financial support. Sometimes, for the entire household. 

This gender socialization affected Elon Musk too, as he described himself as “The Alpha” according to his ex-wife, Justine Musk. 

With feminism, we have a bigger incentive to focus on our careers as women, but there is plenty of pressure on men to be “breadwinners” still. Financial freedom is no longer about stability when it comes to this syndrome, but about approval and membership to this “exclusive” group of people who will burn out eventually. 

This means a lot of personal growth like volunteering, learning skills, cultivating relationships and anything else that does not contribute to our “career” or “role” is deemed irrelevant.

Shared identity 

We all want to belong. Membership in the “hustle culture” can make us feel like we belong with others who are winning. If we wake up at 5 am and work long hours, we will be part of the group that has the highest chance to succeed. 

Amid a pandemic the goal to simply survive and keep our wits about us doesn’t seem enough. According to this culture, we must keep overworking and overcoming everything without visible sweat. 

But the cracks are showing for some of us. My mental health has taken a toll and so has so many others. Acknowledging our own harmful habits and working towards rest and health while we cope with the third run of this pandemic is crucial. And nobody wants to be part of the group that is breaking under the crazy times we are facing, so we choose overworking ourselves while masking our crippling mental health. 

Romanticizing power 

The last thing to note is when we attach a lot of value to power. For me it would sound like:

When I am powerful I will be able to help everyone
My goal is to become rich enough to solve these issues one day
I can’t work towards these goals until I have significant success

Delaying our lives, goals, and ambitions until we reach a certain level that is ambiguous at best just delays our lives. We have no guarantee we will reach that point, or that the world will need us, or even if we’ll be around! 

How many people become like Elon Musk anyway? Not many. But how many people find their purpose and live a fulfilling life as well as serving others?Quite a few!

I hope I am the latter someday and things I care about are part of my present and not deferred for the future. I hope anyone who reads this takes it as a healthy reminder to rest and take care because you are not a commodity, you are a person who survived years of a pandemic.