A NOTE FROM ALEX
When I stopped choosing out of guilt and started choosing out of clarity, everything shifted.”
I wanted to share a bit more of what I mean when I say that. Because for me, that shift wasn’t abstract — it changed everything.
For a long time, I was the go-to person. The one who could figure it out, carry more, smooth it over. Whether it was at work or in life, I was wired to say yes—not because I always wanted to, but because I didn’t want to let anyone down. I felt responsible. For people’s growth. For holding teams together. For delivering, no matter what it cost me.
But underneath the yeses and the over-functioning, I was running on empty. Even when I was successful—and by all accounts, I was—it never felt quite right. I was tired. Not just physically, but emotionally. I’d look at my calendar and wonder: Who designed this?—and realize, painfully, that it was me.
It hit me one day during a team offsite I had organized, trying to spark clarity in others. We were doing an exercise on values and priorities, and I heard myself saying to someone, “If it’s not a hell yes, it’s a no.” The words hung in the air. I had said them many times. But for the first time, I realized I wasn’t living them.
That was the pivot. I went back and started stripping away every decision that was guilt-fueled. Every project, obligation, or person I was holding onto out of fear of disappointing them. I got radically honest: What do I want? What feels true?
And the shift wasn’t instant, but it was powerful. I stopped dragging myself through the days. I became clearer, sharper. I could finally hear myself think. My energy returned—not just the ability to do, but the fire to create. I made space for the things that truly mattered. The mission I believe in. The people who energize me. The work that lights me up.
I didn’t lose anything important. In fact, I gained back the best parts of me—clarity, strength, and a new kind of calm.
That’s what alignment looks like for me. And if you’re in a season of questioning, I hope this lands as permission — not to abandon what you’ve built, but to build it with more truth.