Maya asked me to send her a picture of me “caught in the fire of action.” What she didn’t realize is that I’ve been on fire all week—literally. Juggling everything, managing C-H-A-O-S, all while mentally checking myself to not push too hard, to not hit that burnout wall again. But here’s the thing: I don’t let it consume me anymore. I’ve learned to control the flames.
These past few months, I’ve come to understand the weight of the word “hubris.” My whole life, I’ve been the driven, hard-working Alpha—leading, leading, leading. Always pushing, always micro-managing everything and everyone around me. Then came the suffocating realization: an overwhelming sense of self-assurance, confidence, and pride, all slowly choking me. It was my Prometheus moment, the kind of humbling that shakes you to your core. Humiliating at first, then painfully drawn out, both professionally and physically, as I fought to resist what felt like defeat. But I’ve learned. Now, I’m stronger. Now, I’m wiser.
This article hit close to home:
Long before I learned the word ‘hubris,’ Little Athletics taught me a valuable lesson. https://www.theguardian.com/commentisfree/article/2024/aug/07/long-before-i-learned-the-word-hubris-little-athletics-taught-me-a-valuable-lesson
I saw myself in every line. Like the author, I’ve charged into challenges, only motivated by that intense need to lead, to achieve, to control. That relentless drive, once my greatest strength, became my downfall. I refused to slow down, convinced that speed was the only way to succeed. “you really perform well under stress” I was flattered to hear so many times since Architecture School even last month during a 3-day cases solving trip in Nosy-Be. Life turned into one sprint after another, with me always in the lead—until my body made me stop in 2023. I lost weight overnight, literally. Not exactly my proudest moment, though I now do fit into my size 8 jeans from 2006.
“tu mets toujours la charrue avant les boeufs” Mom used to reproach to me.
The author talks about “hubris”, and I feel that deeply. That’s exactly how I lost my lead—professionally, physically—burning out once, twice, so many times, pushing past limits I never wanted to acknowledge. The constant race towards work, deadlines, relationships—it all mirrors my story. I believed I could outrun exhaustion, outpace reality. But eventually, I found myself no longer in control. That’s when I realized endurance, not speed, is what really matters. These days, I value consistency and perseverance over being the brightest star in the room.
run a Marathon, forget about the sprint.
What really struck me is how hubris weaves itself into life, much like a pattern in embroidery. It’s funny how closely it mirrors my love for stitching—the same slow, careful attention to detail, yet an impatient rush toward the most intricate, sophisticated results. You think you’re invincible, always pushing forward, convinced the finish line is just within reach. I didn’t realize then that slowing down could help me last longer, achieve more. I was humbled, forced to re-evaluate not just how I work but how I lead and live. I’m in that space now—learning that progress isn’t about sprinting to the end. It’s about knowing when to push, when to step back, recharge, and return stronger, wiser, and ready to go the distance.
Photo: A very painful moment on a very painful site, working on a tough project I will never forget.