Sunday, 3 PM. My laptop sits on the kitchen table. I need to prep for Monday's leadership meeting. I open it. My chest tightens. I close it. I tell myself I'll do it after dinner. After the kids go to bed. After I check Teams one more time. Sunday, 3 PM The panic attack is already starting, and Monday hasn't even begun. If you're reading this and thinking "that's just stress, not a panic attack," you might be right. Or you might be doing what I did for years: calling it stress because admitting it is panic feels like admitting you're broken. I'm a data leader. I've built teams, shipped products, and created frameworks that other people use. I've given talks and written books and articles. I have helped organizations transform how they think about data. And yet, I get panic attacks about opening my laptop on Monday mornings or Sunday afternoons. This is what I'm learning about why. The Pattern I Keep Repeating It starts the same way every time. I join a team or take on a domain. I see the problems clearly: the chaos, the reactive work, and the lack of rhythm. I see what's missing, and I start filling in the gaps. I do this not because anyone asked me to, but because I can see what needs to happen and I care about making it work. Someone needs to bridge business and engineering? I'll do it.Someone needs to fill a missing role? I'll do it.Someone needs to communicate a difficult truth? I'll do it.Someone needs to push back on unrealistic timelines? I'll do it.Does someone need to create the roadmap that no one else is creating? I'll do it. Someone needs to bridge business and engineering? I'll do it. Someone needs to fill a missing role? I'll do it. Someone needs to communicate a difficult truth? I'll do it. Someone needs to push back on unrealistic timelines? I'll do it. Does someone need to create the roadmap that no one else is creating? I'll do it. At first, it feels good. I'm solving problems, moving things forward, and proving my value. Then I realize I've taken on six roles and have authority for none of them. Then people start depending on the promises I made to keep them happy. Then I realize I can't deliver on all of them. Then the panic starts. What the Panic Actually Is It's not about the work. I can handle hard work. It's about disappointing people. It is the fear of them realizing I'm not as capable as I seemed, or the fear of losing my job because I took on too much and couldn't follow through. The panic intensifies when I feel people don't appreciate what I'm doing. But how could they appreciate it? I'm fighting to prove I'm right instead of doing the consistent work that makes things stick. I solve the first problem, get bored with maintaining it, and move to the next shiny problem. Meanwhile, the first thing falls apart. And I wonder why people don't see my value. The Burnout That Broke Me This wasn't my first burnout, but it was the one that made me finally stop and ask: Why do I keep doing this to myself? I left a role I'd poured everything into. I left not because the work was too hard, but because I couldn't take the feeling anymore. I couldn't handle the constant fear of disappointing people, the panic about losing authority I may never have had, and the exhaustion of trying to prove something I couldn't articulate. I burned everything around me on the way out. I let my ego lead. I made it messier than it needed to be because leaving felt safer than confronting what was actually wrong. Then I had space to think. I reflected upon it from the ER bed where I was lying. I had arrived just a few hours before with a suspicion of a heart attack, feeling massive pain in my left arm, chest, and lower back. I thought I was about to die. Then the doctor arrived and took me for a walk. I explained the situation to her, and she gently said, "It is okay. I am a doctor. If something happens, I will be right next to you." She took me to the cafeteria vending machine and bought hot chocolate for both of us. I still remember it. She smiled, handed me the hot cup, and told me, "What you have is not a heart issue. It is a psychological issue. You are undergoing a massive panic attack. You need to go and talk with someone to figure out what triggered it. For now, the tip I can give you is this: try to think about your happy place. When the next one comes, and it will, return there." Half an hour later, I was outside the ER with the forms and a recommendation, but I was calmer. Coding the Problem: Data Pearls After that ER visit, I did what I always do when something breaks: I tried to solve it. I thought that if the problem was that data teams take on too much and struggle to articulate value, maybe I could build a tool to make that reality visible. I created Data Pearls to show teams the reality gap between what they say they're doing and what they're actually doing. It highlights the maintenance burden they're ignoring and the reactive work they're drowning in. Data Pearls Beta testers validated that it works. It helped them have the conversations they'd been avoiding. But here is what I learned: A tool cannot save you from a personal pattern. Data Pearls shows you the gap, but it doesn't stop you from over-involving. It doesn't teach you boundaries. It doesn't solve the core issue, which is that the work that creates real impact requires you to be deeply involved. And deep involvement is what breaks me. I also created Impact Operation, a methodology for helping data teams move from chaos to rhythm. I used it with a few clients; in one case, a team's satisfaction score jumped from 4.1/10 to 7.5/10 in just a few months. It was a real, measurable impact. But it only worked because I was there: creating the rhythm, holding the space, and being the bridge. Impact Operation I can't scale that. And I'm not sure I want to keep doing work that requires me to care so much that I destroy myself in the process. What I'm Learning (I Don't Have This Solved) I'm addicted to solving, not sustaining. I get a dopamine hit from cracking hard problems. Once I solve it, it becomes "maintenance work," and I find it boring. This is why I drop balls. I'm already chasing the next "solve."I take on everything when I lose clarity about my role. When I don't have clear authority, I try to fill the void by being useful everywhere. I tell myself I'm being proactive, but really, I'm trying to prove I deserve to be there.I over-promise to keep people happy. I want people to like me, so I say yes to things I can't deliver. Then I fail them, and then I panic about failing them.I don't know what appreciation looks like. I want praise or authority, but I don't actually know how to define it. So I over-involve trying to earn something I can't name. I'm addicted to solving, not sustaining. I get a dopamine hit from cracking hard problems. Once I solve it, it becomes "maintenance work," and I find it boring. This is why I drop balls. I'm already chasing the next "solve." I'm addicted to solving, not sustaining. I take on everything when I lose clarity about my role. When I don't have clear authority, I try to fill the void by being useful everywhere. I tell myself I'm being proactive, but really, I'm trying to prove I deserve to be there. I take on everything when I lose clarity about my role. I over-promise to keep people happy. I want people to like me, so I say yes to things I can't deliver. Then I fail them, and then I panic about failing them. I over-promise to keep people happy. I don't know what appreciation looks like. I want praise or authority, but I don't actually know how to define it. So I over-involve trying to earn something I can't name. I don't know what appreciation looks like. What Helps (Your Mileage May Vary) Yoga in the morning, running, and gardening all help. These are physical things that remind me I'm not just a brain trying to solve problems. Recognizing the pattern earlier helps too. Two years ago, I couldn't see it until I'd already burned everything down. Now I can sometimes catch it mid-spiral. Admitting this out loud helps most of all. I've said it to my partner, to friends, and now to the internet. Nothing in life prepared me for this. Not my education, not the "resilience" workshops at work, and not even the Captivity Workshop I took years ago in India. You learn by breaking. And then, if you're lucky, you learn by choosing to look at why you broke. The Crossroads: Looking Toward 2026 I'm starting 2026 with no income. A consulting contract fell through due to funding issues. I have three kids, and savings won't last forever. The practical question is: Do I keep trying to make consulting work, or do I find a full-time role? But the real question underneath is: Can I do transformational work without the pattern destroying me? Consulting offers freedom to create but no structure to protect me from over-involving. Employment offers stability but carries the risk of repeating the cycle of taking on everything and burning out. I don't know which is right. I rejected six-figure job offers in 2025 because they felt wrong. My ego sabotaged an interview for a role I actually wanted because I couldn't handle being tested on hands-on work when I see myself as a strategic leader. It felt like being asked to prove I can use a hammer when I’m there to design the house. My partner supports me, but I feel like I've disappointed them. I'm not sure if I'm being principled or just scared. I'm scared that the "brick in the wall" I want to leave requires me to choose between destroying myself or giving up on impact work entirely. Why I'm Publishing This Anyway Why I'm Publishing This Anyway I'm afraid of hitting publish. Afraid people will see me as weak or broken. Afraid they'll think, "He talks about solving problems but can't solve his own." My ego says: "What if people think you're not as good as you claim to be?" Maybe that's true. Maybe I'm not. But maybe the claim itself is the problem. Maybe needing to be "as good as I claim" is what starts the whole cycle. I'm publishing this because I think I'm not alone. I think data leaders are reading this who: Take on too much because they see what's missingStruggle to articulate value while drowning in proving itGet Sunday panic attacks about MondayFollowing cadences rather than finding rhythm Take on too much because they see what's missing Struggle to articulate value while drowning in proving it Get Sunday panic attacks about Monday Following cadences rather than finding rhythm I think the data world talks endlessly about better tools, better methodologies, better governance. I think the data world talks endlessly about better tools, better methodologies, better governance. We don't talk about the personal patterns that destroy us, regardless of which tools we use. We don't talk about the personal patterns that destroy us, We don't talk about what happens when you care too much and don't know how to protect yourself while caring. We don't talk about the panic attacks. We don't talk about the broken rhythm we all pretend is working, but that's actually keeping us up at night. I don't have this solved. I'm writing this from the middle of it, not from the other side. I don't know if I'll choose consulting or employment in 2026. I don't know how to stop over-involving. I don't know if awareness is actually the first step or if I'm just giving myself credit for noticing while still repeating the pattern. I don't have this solved. But I know this: The pattern of over-involving, over-promising, panicking, and burning out isn't stupidity. It's caring too much without boundaries. The pattern of over-involving, over-promising, panicking, and burning out isn't stupidity. It's caring too much without boundaries. If you recognize yourself in this, you're not broken. Or maybe you are, but so am I, and so are a lot of us. And knowing you're not the only data leader who gets panic attacks about opening your laptop on Sunday afternoon? That helps too. Lior Barak writes about data strategy, Wabi-Sabi philosophy, and the things we don't usually admit about working in data. He's still figuring most of it out. You can find him overthinking things at Cooking Data. Lior Barak Cooking Data