I had been a consultant for a long time, started my own business, built teams, etc., but mostly independent. I decided to move down towards Silicon Valley & to do that I took a full-time job, rather than consulting.<p>The problems for me were the chaos and ambiguity, coupled with pressure.<p>I took on responsibility because there was nobody else to do the work & the work had to be done, but also because that's been my work experience: part of being that Principal Developer or Architect is being the backstop, to catch all the crap that the team can't handle.<p>I was told to 1) design and execute an ETL migration from the ERP system that they've purchased (and we're already about 6 months late), and 2) do an upgrade on a fragile system that'd been a piece of shit for the past 20 years, and which they expected to get done cleanly in a couple weeks.<p>I tried.<p>I worked over a month without rest, fun, friends, blogging, fiction reading, sex, church, or music ... waking in the middle of the night to start again, nap, repeat.<p>Naturally, while I was doing that, I was feeling like shit. But, I wrote it off as maybe just something off with my diabetes meds (repressing the issues rather than dealing with them). I developed gastritis. I had an endoscopy, colonoscopy, ultrasound, hoping to find some physical reason for this rather than this being me working myself to death.<p>There were more than one of me, at one point, and I'm still feeling like someone got into my head with a blender and just stirred it all up. For weeks, I was trying to figure out (at home) why the fuck I was so weird at work, and at work I was trying to figure out how to access information that I'd apparently decided I shouldn't have because it would upset me. I had compartmentalized, and created a persona to endure the misery that was work (but, hey: because it was made of me, it had some sense & started wondering why it was a fucking idiot).<p>I've been out for a month, on medical leave, seeing a therapist. I have chills, night sweats, hot/cold, tingles. My memory wanders. There are huge chunks missing, or ... hiding (and I'm letting them be, in hopes they'll come back). I have random panic attacks and - bonus! - I get one with every single meal, because of course the vagus nerve is in there somewhere, as is gastritis still (healing), and the vagus can do that sort of thing to you.<p>I get distracted and have to tell myself that, no, I'm not looking for a new job right now, that I need to take the time to heal.<p>I wake up at 3 in the morning in a panic and have to tell myself that, no, I don't have any work that I should be doing.<p>To come back from this? Lots of therapy, I fear. And time. And to figure out how not to be a workaholic.<p>Oh: the projects failed, of course. That's part of it, as well, because naturally I'm a perfectionist and an overachiever and a people-pleaser. So, yeah.<p>Nobody could have broken me more thoroughly.<p>Oh. Because I use different mental states to code, and I've built those to be triggered by music, I've helpfully got a whole music collection full of pain and misery, on tap!