Share 8

I have struggled more than I expected with the transition to running a remote company.

Some of it is the distance. Relationships with team members can feel more transactional than they once did. There was a time when it felt like we were all in it together. Now, so much of the work happens through scheduled calls, Slack messages, and little boxes on a screen.

Even the hardest parts feel different.

Removing someone from Zoom meetings and Slack channels does not carry the same emotional weight as telling them they will no longer be returning to a shared space with the same group of people. It feels cleaner, more efficient, and somehow colder.

Sometimes I resent who I have had to become in order to keep doing this.

But the stranger part is how invisible my own work has become.

Earlier in my career, effort was obvious. I could point to the code I wrote, the client call I led, or the fire I put out.

Now, much of my time is spent thinking, writing, making decisions, following up on emails, and waiting to see whether those decisions were any good.

From the outside, it can look like I am just sitting alone in a room.

Other people seem to have clearer directives. A boss wants something. A deadline arrives. The work gets done.

I am my own boss. Nobody is handing me hard deadlines. I have to decide what matters, create the urgency, and then trust myself enough to follow through.

Some days, I cannot tell whether I am doing the work or avoiding it.

I know some of this is nostalgia. The earlier years came with plenty of stress that I have conveniently softened with time. Still, the work felt more visible. The urgency came from somewhere outside of me. The burden felt more shared.

Now, much of it gets carried alone, from a home office, while trying not to let it leak into the rest of my life.

I talk a good game about work-life balance. The truth is, I am no longer sure where the work ends, where the rest of my life begins, or how to tell whether I have done enough of either.