Visions Journal

A rejection of a hustle culture

Joey P. Laguio

Reprinted from the The Vibes Are Off: Young People, Anxiety and Depression issue of Visions Journal, 2025, 21 (1), pp. 15-17

The alarm rings. It’s 5:30 a.m. My heart beats rapidly as the items on my endless to-do list materialize in my head. I resign myself to the reality that I have to wake up. Begrudgingly, I face the day, dreading every single moment ahead. I wonder, “Will this ever end?” then shove that thought to the back of my mind.

I head to the bathroom and splash water on my face. I reluctantly put my gym clothes on and walk out the door. I tell myself, “You’re weak. You’re fat. You’re ugly. You’re not worth anything. Go do something today that proves why you deserve to exist.”

Depression urges me to return to my bed. I know how to hide in my covers until the night arrives. If it doesn’t matter either way, why even leave the house?

But anxiety fights back. The guilt and shame of not being enough urges me forward. Doesn’t matter which way I go, though. I won’t feel great about myself. I walk out the door and play a podcast from some guy about the power of cold showers and waking up early until I convince myself all this pain is good. I deserve to not feel good about myself. My life is simply suffering and the pursuit of a state of non-suffering.

Living outside-in

For the first 30ish years of my life, these thoughts crushed my existence every time I woke up. The push and pull of doing too much, yet not doing enough. Spinning my wheels to get stuff done, fuelled by a toxic mix of guilt and fear. Always in limbo, going through the motions like a well-oiled production line.

Growing up, I was a closeted, nerdy, musically inclined, anxiety-ridden, bigger-sized kid. I felt like I never truly ever fit in anywhere, but learned I could adapt by compensating. I could accomplish a bunch of things, show people how smart I was and distract people—including myself—from what I lacked. You don’t have to deal with your insecurities if you’re climbing. How can you? If you’re always occupied striving for more, how can you believe you’re less than?

In my teenage and young adult years, I got really good at jumping through the hoops laid out for me. I knew what the teachers wanted—what my parents and society wanted. I knew how to get the right reactions. Those reactions were like a drug that helped me escape acknowledging my low self-worth.

Over time, it started to eat at me, gnawing at my will to live. Anxiety transitioned into an ever-present depression. I was no longer in control of my own actions, merely a soulless instrument to replicate the parameters society laid out for me. I completed an engineering degree I felt absolutely no passion for,  worked in corporate environments and tried to act in a conventional, straight way.

Bro-ing down

I also consumed copious hustle culture and self-help content. I idolized influencers with six-pack abs and loads of money. They spoke to my insecurities, sometimes even yelling at me, reinforcing that I wasn’t enough if I didn’t spend all my time losing weight, making money, working 10 side hustles and playing the stocks.

Hustle culture gave me ways to optimize my life and become a people-pleasing productivity machine. In some ways, it was comforting. It told me I could hustle my way out of my fears of being judged.

But when you let the world define you, you lose who you are. You don’t know what to enjoy or even how to enjoy anything at all. You push that metaphorical boulder up and down the hill every day. The days feel soul-crushingly dark, drowned out by the noise of content creator bros.

Eventually, I was an emotionless husk—barely human. Panic attacks and anxiety abounded, rising from nowhere. When you ignore your fundamental self, your body and your mind keep the score.

I had no choice but to shut down, falling in and out of depression. I was imprisoned by my own mind in my bedroom for weeks at a time, leaving only for occasional takeout.

Light through the cracks

I started to try new things and make mistakes. I jumped careers multiple times, from engineering, to teaching music, to early childhood care, to nonprofits, to design. I figured out what I liked and what I didn’t. It wasn’t easy. It felt strange to get off the escalator of accomplishment—exposed and vulnerable.

I hated the sensation of not knowing where I was going. But I also felt something new—the feeling of being alive, in control of my own ship, regardless of what people said about me.

I slowly replaced the toxic habits of hustle culture with activities I enjoyed for their own sake. I started a vocal group with my friends, designed small games for fun, took piano, started writing more and took dance classes—something once unimaginable!

I got better at ignoring the voice in my head that told me I wasn’t enough. I didn’t have to be perfect. I got better at laughing at myself and finding joy in imperfection. I worked with my cognitive behavioural therapist, using situations as growth experiences, everything from parallel parking to taking a new class. I got better at doing things I wasn’t good at. Not because I felt like I had to, but because I wanted to. They brought me genuine joy.

No alarm rings. It’s 9:47 a.m. I slowly open my eyes, feeling well-rested (stellar, in fact). I take a relaxed look at the sun rays through my window, pour myself a bowl of cereal and make sure to take my medication before I start my design work. I move slowly, letting myself adjust to the day.

I arrive at my desk excited for the work, hobbies and activities I’ve lined up. I think about the next dance class and the creative design projects I feel privileged to work on.

A small grin spreads across my face as I realize that my mind—once dark and clouded—now feels stunningly bright, relaxed and crystal clear. I’m no longer running from anything, just living. I exist and I am enough—regardless of what I do today.