I’ve lost my mojo at work.
I’ve known it for a while, but this morning it really hit me. I was standing in my closet, wrapped in this oversized gray robe I bought on a whim at Target. It was warm. Comfortable. Easy. And getting dressed for work felt like effort I didn’t have.
My clothes—once something I took pride in—just hung there. Waiting. They suddenly felt stiff. Confining. They represented something I was starting to resist.
Work.
I’ve always loved work. I’ve always taken pride in what I do—whether it was scooping ice cream, solving a customer issue, or building dashboards. I’ve always wanted to make things better. To go above and beyond. To leave people better than I found them.
I didn’t need recognition. I got enough satisfaction from doing things well.
Looking back, I was deeply self-motivated. I built my education piece by piece—CLEP exams, online courses, degrees—while raising kids and working. I didn’t think much of it at the time, but it took drive. A lot of it.
And for over two decades, I brought that same energy to my work.
Not because I wanted to climb the ladder. I didn’t. I never aspired to senior leadership. I wanted balance. I wanted to be present for my kids. I wanted to do meaningful work from whatever seat I was in—and then go home and live my life.
And for a long time, that worked.
Until it didn’t.
A couple of years ago, I took a new role. It was a chance to grow, to build something new. There was no clear structure, no defined path—but I saw potential. So I created direction. I built a small, motivated team. I floated ideas, got approval, and we moved forward.
But over time, something became clear.
The support wasn’t real.
The ideas were approved—but not understood. And when challenges came, the support disappeared. Decisions were reversed. Priorities shifted. Conversations that needed to happen never did.
I wasn’t growing anymore. I was managing noise.
And for the first time in my life, I started to dread going to work.
It felt… pointless.
Waking up tired. Getting dressed in clothes that didn’t feel like me. Driving in to sit at a desk and move things around without actually moving anything forward.
Meanwhile, my life outside of work was getting fuller and more demanding. A blended family. Four teenagers. Real life.
So I asked a simple question:
Could I work part-time?
The answer came quickly: “Absolutely. We’d do anything to keep you.”
But then… nothing.
Weeks turned into months. Promises were made, then quietly undone. I adjusted my schedule, continued delivering, met every request—and still, no real answer.
If I had been told upfront that it wasn’t possible, I would have made a different decision. Instead, I stayed in limbo.
And something in me shut down.
Motivation doesn’t disappear overnight. It erodes.
Not too long ago, I couldn’t understand how people became disengaged at work. I saw colleagues who seemed checked out, counting down to retirement, and I didn’t get it.
Now I do.
It’s not laziness.
It’s what happens when effort and impact become disconnected. When leadership lacks clarity, consistency, or follow-through. When people who care stop seeing a reason to.
All the things I studied—leadership, motivation, organizational development—they’re not abstract concepts. They matter. A lot.
The right people in the right roles. Clear communication. Follow-through. Support.
Without those, even the most motivated people start to disengage.
And once that happens, it’s hard to get back.
At some point, I realized something else:
It’s not just about the organization.
It’s about fit.
I’m no longer a good fit here.
And that’s okay—but it also means something needs to change.
Because sitting in a role where I feel like an observer instead of a contributor isn’t sustainable. Not for my mental health. Not for my sense of purpose.
I don’t need perfection. I don’t need constant praise.
But I do need to feel like what I’m doing matters.
Right now, it doesn’t.
And that’s the hardest part.
How do you squash a motivated employee?
- Ask them to do as you say, not as you do.
- Ignore their track record when they make a reasonable request.
- Avoid real conversations about expectations.
- Give them goals they’ve already surpassed.
- Approve ideas, then withdraw support when it matters.
- Don’t follow up. Don’t engage. Don’t lead.
- Take everything they’re willing to give.
- Give nothing in return.
Thanks for taking the time to read. I’d love to hear your thoughts!
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