What is the cost of work? Something I’ve noticed over the years, working alongside people in helping professions, is how quietly things can shift. (N.B. some shifts Are dramatic like redundancy, but those are not what I am referring to here).
On the outside, work still looks much the same. You’re experienced. Trusted. Capable. The work still matters, and you’re still doing it well. But underneath, it’s starting to take more out of you than it gives back.
Clients often describe it as feeling more tired than usual or finding it harder to switch off. Work lingers. Recovery takes longer. There’s less space for the parts of life that used to feel easy, fun or replenishing.
What’s striking is that nothing obvious has gone wrong.
It’s not that the work is too hard
In my experience, this is rarely about suddenly finding the work “too hard”. More often, it’s that the cost of carrying it has slowly increased — emotionally, mentally, sometimes physically — without much being adjusted around it.
For people in helping roles, this can be especially tricky to recognise. You’re used to giving. To holding responsibility. To finding ways to cope when things are stretched. It can feel normal (and expected) to absorb the pressure rather than question whether the way you’re working is still sustainable.
So instead of asking, “Is this still working for me?”, many people ask, “Why am I feeling like this?” or “What’s wrong with me?”
It’s not a failure
But this isn’t a failure of resilience or commitment. It’s useful information.
Often, when work begins to cost more than it gives, it isn’t a sign that something has failed — but an invitation to step back, take stock, and reshape how we work so it can be sustained for the long haul.
At different points in our careers and lives, the relationship we have with work changes. What once felt manageable, even energising, can begin to feel heavy. Values shift. Life outside work becomes fuller or more complex. The balance subtly moves.
Noticing that work is starting to cost more than it gives doesn’t mean you need to make a big decision straight away. It doesn’t mean leaving, changing roles, or doing anything dramatic.
It simply means telling yourself the truth.
When this kind of imbalance goes unnoticed for too long, it often shows up later as a sense of being stuck, resentment or even burnout. Paying attention earlier creates more choice and more room to think.
Sometimes the most important step isn’t changing your work — it’s giving yourself permission to pause and reflect on what you need now, rather than what you needed years ago.
If this sounds familiar, I wonder:
- Where do you notice the cost of your work showing up?
- What is your work giving you at this stage of your life?
