I’ve always been an overachiever. And by overachiever, I mean someone who—more often than not—bites off more than she can chew.
This has been both a blessing and a curse.
At university, I chose to study two degrees. They should’ve taken me four-and-a-half years to complete. But instead, I shaved off a year by hustling hard in summer school and doing five papers (instead of the standard four) during my last couple of semesters.
You could say I was burned out before I even started my career.
This probably makes me sound like I didn’t have a life, but I just had lofty ambitions for myself—like most women. I wanted to start my career as soon as possible, so I could start making money to fund my travels, and eventually, buy a house.
Fast forward a couple of years, and my ambitions grew even bigger.
I wanted to start freelancing—but I also wanted to keep my 40-hour-per-week job. This made total sense to me at the time, as two incomes would help me reach my goals even faster. I had the drive to totally make it happen, so why not go all-in?
So, I began freelancing alongside my busy full-time marketing career.
For the most part, it was manageable when my client base was small. They understood that I worked full-time, so all my freelance work was done outside of normal work hours.
But slowly, my client base grew. I’d say yes to new work, even when I was worried I couldn’t handle the workload or didn’t have enough hours in my day. I began crossing my own boundaries, like texting clients back late on a Friday night.
Despite my best attempts not to, a good chunk of my weeknights and weekends were spent working, as if there was a badge of honor for productivity. The pressure began to mount.
People saw my hustle on social media and applauded it (I was constantly marketing my freelance business), but inside, I began to feel like a duck treading furiously on water. Day in, and day out.
Then in 2025, I had my biggest year yet. I took on larger contracts, and I began freelance writing for a major business publication. I was also in the highest-paid role of my career so far.
That’s when the delicate “balance” of full-time and freelance life began to wobble. On top of that, I was juggling a social life, a relationship, and all the life admin of housework, meal prep, and the gym.
The stress was taking its toll. I felt drained all the time. My brain wouldn’t stop racing when I hit the pillow each night. And to be honest… I became a grumpy b*tch.
Chelsea, the overachiever who had always “done it all,” wasn’t so invincible anymore. I was officially burned out.
Something needed to change.
I’d seen that some tech companies like Buffer and Kickstarter offered four-day workweeks, and it sounded like the tonic I needed. A whole extra day to do as I please? Sign me up!
I knew I needed a fresh start, so I began applying for new marketing roles. The options were sparse—the job was either part-time at 20-ish hours per week or a regular 40-hour workweek. There was no in between.
If I wanted a four-day workweek, I was going to have to ask.
If I wanted a four-day workweek, I was going to have to ask.
My search led me to an exciting role. It ticked all my boxes… except for one thing: it was full-time. Still, I had a feeling this job could be “the one.”
During the second interview, I brought up the idea of working four days a week. I made it clear I was happy with pro rata pay, and that I still wanted the position even if they couldn’t accommodate my request.
To my surprise, there wasn’t much deliberation on their end. I got an answer that same day: they said yes. I had officially scored the coveted four-day workweek.
And it’s the best decision I’ve made in a long time.
Mondays are now my day off. One whole day I can use for freelance work, or whatever it is I want to do. If I need to organize an in-person client meeting, Monday it is. If I simply want a day of rest, so be it. Sometimes I head out of town for a three-day weekend.
It’s been a few months, and the Sunday Scaries have disappeared from my life.
My mood has improved (as my boyfriend may attest), and I‘m less stressed about how my overachieving self is going to juggle everything. When I get a new freelance inquiry, it’s met with excitement, not anxiety.
My salary took a hit when I moved to a 4-day workweek, but I’ve cut back on some “nice-to-have” purchases like concert tickets and delayed my next overseas trip until the second half of the year. If anything, I’m now much smarter with my cash.
I’d been stuck in the hustle culture loop for a long time, thinking I always had to keep doing more… but I now realize that chasing the money isn’t the end-all be-all. I can still be ambitious and take time to rest.
In fact, the rest actually propels me to move even faster. Plus, I enjoy my work a lot more, too.
I acknowledge that not everyone will be in a position to do a four-day workweek—32 hours won’t be enough for some, depending on their wage, location, or financial responsibilities.
But for those stuck on the never-ending hamster wheel in need of a change, perhaps this is an option you could explore. Even if a role isn’t advertised as four days a week, don’t be afraid to ask! You never know—it may actually suit the employer perfectly, just like it did with mine.
You may think it’s “only one day,” but it’s made a huge difference in my life. The five-day, 40-hour workweek is a totally outdated concept (it dates back to 1926—yes, 100 years ago—and somehow we’ve treated it like sacred law ever since).
If working one day less a week eases your stress and burnout, it’s worth it.
It certainly has been for me.
READ MORE
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How to Talk About a Career Break (Without Hurting Your Job Prospects)
“How Do I Tell My Boss I’m Burned Out?”
