In my previous life—the one lived in fluorescent-lit boardrooms and high-stakes corporate environments—I was a world-class firefighter. Or at least, that’s what my performance reviews said.
Whenever a project was cratering, whenever a deadline loomed, or whenever a department was in a tailspin, they’d call me. And I’d show up. I’d stay late, I’d over-index on every detail, and I’d pull off the “Hero Shot.” I was the guy who could save the company from its own bad decisions.
But there was a dark secret behind my high performance: I was using my addictive personality as a power tool. I wasn’t just “working hard.” I was overfunctioning. I was using the same “all-in” intensity that fueled my drinking to fuel my career. And for a long time, it worked. Until the day I looked in the mirror and realized I didn’t know how much longer my overfunctioning could continue to save the company—or if it was even worth the cost of my soul.
The Addictive Edge up to When Overfunctioning Becomes a Relapse
In the corporate world, an addictive personality is often rewarded before it’s diagnosed.
- They call it “dedication.”
- They call it “being a closer.”
- They call it “ownership.”
But to me, it felt like the same old buzz. The rush of being the “indispensable” one was just another version of the “spirits.” I was addicted to the save. I was addicted to the feeling that if I stopped moving, the whole system would collapse.
I was playing for a gallery that I had created in my own head. I thought that if I could just keep the company scorecard clean, no one would notice that my internal scorecard was a disaster. I was treating my career like a 72-hole tournament with no sleep and no water, wondering why I was starting to hallucinate on the back nine.
The “Save” That Destroys the Savior
The problem with overfunctioning is that it creates a false reality. When you constantly jump in to save a failing project, you prevent the system and those around you from learning. I reached a point where I had to ask:
“Am I saving this company, or am I just enabling its dysfunction?”
By overfunctioning, I was taking responsibilities from everyone else and trying to turn them into my personal wins. The weight was unsustainable. I was physically present in meetings, but spiritually, I was out of bounds. The cost was my health, my relationships, and my peace of mind. I was “crying in my beers” (even if they were metaphorical) because I felt like a martyr in a suit.
Resigning from the Fire Department
At Skull & Bogeys, we talk about the Quartermaster mindset. A Quartermaster isn’t a martyr; they are a logistical realist. They know exactly what resources they have, and they don’t overextend the perimeter until the base is secure.
I eventually had to resign from the “Fire Department.” I had to accept a hard truth: If a company requires my constant, frantic overfunctioning to survive, then that company is a hazard I can no longer afford to play.
In recovery, we learn the value of the Lay-up. Sometimes, the most “high-performance” thing you can do is set a boundary. It’s admitting that you are not a god, you are not a machine, and you are not responsible for carrying the entire system on your back.
Memento Mori: Your Time is Not “Disposable”
Our motto, memento mori, is the ultimate antidote to overfunctioning.
If you remember that your time is finite, you stop “disposing” of your life force to save a corporate entity that would replace your “indispensable” role in a week if you dropped dead. You start valuing your energy as a non-renewable resource.
Today, I still have that addictive drive. I’m still “all-in.” But I’ve redirected that intensity toward a mission that actually matters—supporting recovery and building a community of grit.
The 19th Hole Reflection
If you’re currently the person “saving” your company through sheer force of will and overfunctioning, I want you to look at the “Red Stakes” around you.
- Are you working, or are you avoiding?
- Are you a leader, or are you an enabler?
- Is your “performance” just another way to numb the feeling that your life is out of balance?
The company might need saving, but you aren’t the one who has to die doing it. Take the drop. Simplify the swing. Remember that the most important “save” you’ll ever make is the one that brings you back to your own fairway.
Own your energy. Respect your boundaries. Shop the gear for the self-governed soul at skullandbogeys.com.
