How can I stop feeling guilty about not doing revenue‑generating work on weekends and avoid burnout?
No, I don’t have a specific routine to shut off work on weekends. I’ve struggled with this too, and I think the idea of strict work‑mode vs. relax‑mode is a false dichotomy. In reality, effort exists on a gradient—some days I’m at 20% effort, other days at 80%. On low‑effort days I still do a little work that moves the business forward, like client fulfillment, community management, or content creation, then I rest the rest of the day. I often unwind early in the morning (around 5–6 a.m.) so the rest of the day is free for whatever I want. Other days I work most of the time and still carve out some unwind or play time, like playing League of Legends. I don’t follow a strict on/off schedule; I accept shades of gray. Financially, metrics are useful for business but shouldn’t be the only measure of life success. I’ve gotten ahead financially by sacrificing other areas—relationships, fun, experiences—but I’ve recently started prioritizing family and personal time. Others may be ahead of me in emotional intelligence or life experiences, reminding me that business performance isn’t life performance.
I think the problem you describe is common. The key for me is not seeing work and breaks as opposites. The most important thing is momentum—making sure I always put in some small daily effort toward an actionable goal, regardless of what I’m doing. Starting small and gradually increasing effort works like progressive overload at the gym: your ability and resiliency grow over time. Most people view work as always on or always off, but I fluctuate—some days I work many hours, other days just a few, while avoiding extreme swings from top to bottom. I always do some amount of work toward my goals because momentum matters; when you get a ball rolling, lead generation, outreach, or content production will eventually yield results if you don’t stop. I avoid all‑or‑nothing thinking—I might work at 40% one day, 100% another, then drop to 30%, 80%, 60%, etc.—and that’s my typical workday. This approach helps reframe work so it doesn’t have to be all on or all off. Books like Atomic Habits and The Compound Effect reinforce this: start with a tiny habit (e.g., run for one minute) and build up gradually; by the end of a month you’ll have a solid habit. This method is far more effective and economically sensible than the all‑or‑nothing approach.
You know, the reason I've always been hesitant to do a day-in-the-life vlog is because my days are pretty boring. For the most part, I'm just sitting in front of my laptop doing the same revenue-generating activities I tell you to do. These activities might look a bit different now that my brand has taken off and been very successful—I now have more distribution and leverage, so I spend more time on the brand than on my agency. But generally, I wake up, sit in this chair, and type for about ten hours. It's boring, right? There's no real day-in-the-life for people who are 'on the up and up,' at least in my case, since my business model is entirely digital. If I were a door-to-door sales guy or traveling the world for high-ticket deals, it would be different, but I don't really think a day-in-the-life vlog is that valuable. It's more entertainment—like me sucking my own dick, which is pointless. Or like showing me at the gym for two hours, which I get can be motivating for people who want that lifestyle, but I'll be real: I don't think a lot of people want my life. Sure, I have a ton of money and I'm making a big impact; it looks cool from the outside, but there's a lot of work behind it. Work tends to be the separation line between those who don't have stuff and those who do. I could get philosophical, but I won't go super deep. However, a friend once told me something that stuck with me: 'Everybody on earth gets paid exactly the amount they deserve.' It blew my mind because it sounds like one of those unnecessary alpha-male bro sayings, but pragmatically, it's true. You get paid $5 an hour for a shitty dishwashing job you don't want to do; at some level you deserve that because you haven't taken the actions to get a $15 or $20-an-hour job. If you're in a partnership where someone treats you unfairly—giving you 30% and taking 70% while skimming you off the top—it's your fault; you're getting paid exactly what you deserve because you could have avoided that partnership, enforced better boundaries, or become more valuable than 30%. Likewise, if you run a business and your average order value is $500, you deserve that $500 because you were unable to position the product better to make more money. It's unreasonable to assume otherwise—that's how the economy works under capitalism. Just like when you start a new game, if you're bad at it, you just haven't spent enough time getting better. When you get your ass kicked in Super Smash Brothers, it's because you deserve it. That's one thing I'll mention that I don't think a lot of people realize.
I was feeling really tired that day, barely sleeping and having to wake up at 4 am, so I thought about burnout. I believe burnout is mostly a story we tell ourselves. Humans are great storytellers, and we internalize the narrative that burnout is a real, inevitable condition. Historically people worked in dangerous jobs—coal mines, for example—and kept going despite extreme hardship. The idea that we’re somehow uniquely vulnerable is a myth. If you keep telling yourself that burnout is a looming catastrophe, you’ll feel it more. I try to remind myself that nothing I do matters on a cosmic scale, which helps put the pressure in perspective. I also avoid short‑form content that trains the brain for instant gratification; instead, I focus on longer, deeper work that builds patience and real growth. By rejecting the burnout narrative and reshaping the stories we tell ourselves, I stay more resilient.
The reality is I’ve sacrificed a lot for work; I’m honest about it. I don’t do much in the first few hours of my day except work. Most people have a more holistic morning and socialize more than I do. I focus on the levers that make money: content creation, lead generation, community management, client fulfillment. Anything outside those categories I cut out. So while I might seem super productive, I’m actually just reasonably productive—I only do what you see publicly, like my content and community posts.