You're Not Tired Because You're Busy

You're exhausted. You already know that.

You wake up tired. You drag through the day. You tell yourself it's because of your calendar, your boss, your team, the market, the economy.

Every leader I work with feels the same pressure. CEOs. Founders. Senior executives. They're not less scheduled than you. They're not working fewer hours.

But somewhere along the way, they stopped being exhausted. Not because things got easier, but because they got honest about what was actually draining them.

It wasn't the work. It was the blame.

Not the obvious kind. Not the kind anyone else can see. The quiet kind. The kind that sounds like:

"I don't have enough time." "I have to do this." "There isn't another option." "This is just how it is." "If my boss were different…" "If the market were better…" "If my team stepped up…"

Every one of those is a blame statement. And every one of them is draining you.

Why Blame Makes You Tired

Blame feels like relief. If it's your boss's fault, you don't have to set boundaries. If it's your company's fault, you don't have to decide whether to leave. If it's your team's fault, you don't have to examine how you're leading. If it's the market's fault, you don't have to take a risk.

But here's what blame actually does: it hands your power to someone else.

The moment something isn't your responsibility, it's no longer in your hands. And when nothing feels like it's in your hands, you don't feel busy, you feel trapped.

That's where the exhaustion lives. Not in the work. In the story you're telling yourself about the work.

You're already resentful before the day starts. You sit in meetings irritated before they begin. You complain more than you create.

None of that is effort. That's the blame talking. And it's what's draining you.

The Trap

Blame starts as a shield. It protects you from hard truths and uncomfortable decisions. But the longer you lean on it, the more it turns on you.

Every time you tell yourself "I have no choice," you believe it a little more. You stop looking for options. You stop questioning the story. And eventually, you don't just feel stuck, you convince yourself you are.

Negativity becomes normal. Then it becomes your lens. Then it becomes your personality. You start seeing everything as unfair, broken, stupid, pointless.

That's learned helplessness. And no one did it to you. You did it to yourself, one "I have to" at a time.

The Way Out

Here's what most people won't admit: you are freer than you're acting.

You have responsibilities, bills, people who depend on you. But you are not a prisoner.

You can have the hard conversation. You can stop saying yes automatically. You can look for another job. You can change how you show up. You can stop engaging in draining conversations. You can choose how you interpret what happens to you.

But most people don't. Not because they can't, because they're scared. Scared to disrupt stability. Scared to disappoint someone. Scared to risk comfort.

So they blame. It's easier than choosing.

Freedom isn't the absence of constraints. It's acknowledging the choices within them.

What You Actually Control

You don't control the economy. You don't control your boss. You don't control every demand on your calendar.

You control what you say yes to. You control how you respond. You control where you put your attention. You control the standards you tolerate. You control the conversations you avoid. You control the next move you make.

None of that is available to you as long as you're blaming.

The second you stop, the exhaustion shifts. Not because your schedule changes, but because you stop dragging yourself through a life you claim you didn't choose, and you start choosing it.

The Work

Who are you blaming right now?

Your boss? Your company? Your spouse? Your team? The market? Your lack of time? Your past?

Write it down.

If you're not sure, track it. For one week, keep a blame log. Every time you complain, every time you say "I have to," every time you think "I don't have time" — write down what happened, who you blamed, and what you told yourself you had no choice about.

Just collect the data. Then ask yourself: if I fully owned this, what would I do differently? What boundary would I set? What conversation would I initiate? What would I stop tolerating? What would I stop blaming?

Every answer starts with the same thing, dropping the blame.

You don't need more time. You need more ownership. You don't need the world to change. You need to decide who you're going to be in it.

Where are you spending your energy, and are you willing to admit you're the one giving it away?

Blame yourself. Then do something about it.

—Ben

Helping leaders own their careers and lead lives they're proud of.