Five years ago, I felt lost. My career wasn’t moving in the direction I hoped, and I was searching for advice anywhere I could. This led me down internet rabbit holes that seemed to promise a new life with career growth and limitless potential. All I had to do was one thing: hustle.
Like anyone bitten by the “hustle culture” bug, I started listening to people like Gary Vee and Tim Ferriss. I followed accounts that idolized the work ethic exemplified by Steve Jobs or Elon Musk. Then, I put my mind to the grind, and in my case, this meant writing… a lot.
I started this journey toward the end of the 2010s, but the pandemic kicked me into full gear. In some regards, my life did improve. I transitioned into a full-time writer role, but I definitely didn’t build a business empire. Worst of all, the “hustle” has taken its toll on me and negatively impacted my work ethic and well-being.
Hustling sucked the joy out of a hobby
Initially, I wanted to start a side hustle as a writer because I loved writing (I know, wild stuff), and I wanted to discuss topics that interested me. But when I followed the hustle mentality, I was also motivated to post frequently. So, writing became formulaic, and it made my hobby feel like a chore.
Each time I posted something, I hoped to get something in return — whether that was a little money or a lot of views. When I didn’t do anything, I became frustrated — though there were times when I achieved a moderate amount of success. Regardless, I wasn’t necessarily writing to explore topics I loved. This made the actual process of making an article feel like a slog and a race to burn out rather than build a passion project.
Consistency was a benefit — and a detriment
When I started my side hustle, I knew I wasn’t the best writer in the world, but I knew I was curious and I could be consistent. I thought this would be my biggest strength, especially because so many resources talked about consistency. So I wrote a lot, and I did gain some followers, but it wasn’t an overnight sensation.
As I consumed more content, I started to realize that a lot of the most successful people in hustle culture — particularly in a digital space — also benefitted from jumping on new platforms early. Take Gary Vee, he credits a lot of his success to posting on YouTube when the platform was in its infancy. This resulted in pressure to jump over to newer platforms like TikTok or YouTube Shorts, even though they didn’t lend themselves well to written content. It complicated my writing process, but there was also fear that if I stuck to older platforms, I would be left in the dust.
It never felt like I was doing enough
Most of the time, the hustlers you’ll encounter online are creating digital products. If you’re reading their articles or listening to their podcast, you’re consuming their product. And here’s the thing about digital products — you never run out of supplies, because you don’t need to get anymore.
So, the moment I hit publish, I moved on to writing my next article. As I got better, I could write a little bit faster. This meant I could hit “publish” faster and I could churn out more content. It gets exhausting, but if I wanted to grow, I felt pressure to maximize my productivity all of the time. So this put pressure on me — not only to keep writing but to write faster so I could get more done.
Hustling made me feel entitled
The more you dive into hustle culture, the more success stories you’ll discover. You’re very unlikely to read stories about failure, and this creates the illusion that eventually it will happen if I keep putting in effort.
Sometimes my articles would get a few thousand views, and at first, I thought this was incredible. But, I didn’t have consistent upward growth, and I definitely wasn’t getting enough money to quit my job. When I published something that didn’t get a lot of views, I’d get upset and feel discouraged. But the more I listened to stories of successful hustlers, the more I felt I deserved to be one of them.
Hustling made me forget how to relax
If you know about hustle culture, you’ve heard the phrase “rise and grind.” It sounds like a mantra for people who want to get work done, but it also means you’ll be spending every waking hour working. If you’re serious about the hustle, you’ll feel pressure to dedicate all of your free time to your craft, even if it means missing out on family time or personal recovery.
I started my side hustle before the pandemic, but it was easy to get deeper into it when I was quarantining. There wasn’t much at stake, but once I started going out again and seeing people more frequently, I had to make decisions. If I wanted to dedicate time to my side hustle, I needed to reject plans, sleep less, and make unhealthy decisions. As soon as I started making these compromises, I realized how damaging they were. But, if I allowed myself time to have fun or relax, I’d feel guilty for not putting in work.
Did anything good come from the hustle?
After a few years of building my side hustle, I almost grew to resent it. But, it did help me get my full-time job, so I also see value in it. Perhaps I could have taken a more moderate approach to building skills, but I can’t deny that I improved.
Recently, there’s been a wave of people who claim it’s “toxic” to fall into hustle culture. In my experience, I’ve seen the downsides, but I also need to remember that no one forced me to do anything. I searched for this content because I was unhappy in my previous job and wanted a change. When I found Gary Vee’s podcast, I could have clicked away just as quickly as I clicked on it.
Now, I also recognize how unsustainable, and often unnecessary, “hustling” can be. It’s not for everyone — in fact, young workers are now looking for “lazy girl jobs” — and I can’t imagine spending my whole life “hustling.” However, I am grateful that I was motivated to work on projects that interested me. And just because I no longer aspire to “rise and grind” doesn’t mean there was no value in the time I spent hustling.
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