People Who Hit Bottom When They Reach the Top, Part 2

Reclaiming the Fire: How Successful People Overcome Burnout
by Steven Berglas, Ph.D.

(Page 2 of 2)

There are, to be certain, many people-like the vast majority of you reading this book-who have experienced symptoms akin to those that cause Supernova Burnout and who don't need the help of a mental health professional, or a tragedy, to make adjustments to their lives.

One woman I'll call Martha-because she possessed the meticulous and somewhat obsessional organizational skills of Martha Stewart-had seemingly adjusted to the ennui she experienced after years of working as the executive vice president of finance with a Fortune 1000 corporation located near Washington, D.C. But when I met Martha-I was assessing the corporation's executive team for their readiness to initiate a takeover of a related business-I was struck by how ill-prepared for new challenges Martha seemed to be. After our initial meeting, I scheduled a follow-up session to confront her with my concerns. "You know, I don't sense that you view purchasing [the targeted corporation] as a worthwhile move for your company," I said. "In fact, when I talk with you, it strikes me that you're bracing for a set of onerous chores, not an opportunity for growth."

Her response was completely candid: "You're right, but for reasons that have nothing to do with my role here. My job was a dream come true when I landed it, but no longer. I'm forty-one years old, my daughters are both in high school, and I'm jealous of them; their opportunities are limitless. When I was their age, the aspirations I listed under my yearbook picture were 'future Nobel Prize laureate' and 'philanthropist.' My salary here without stock options is more than twice as much as Nobel Prize winners get, but that's not enough. Why can't I just try to do something that will make me feel like a winner, rather than a prosaic professional?"

Martha and I met several more times for brief chats, and while I can say that I was a catalyst in her decision to move, I was in no way a causal agent. I discovered that Martha had been exploring for more than a year the possibility of getting a fellowship at a prestigious economic think tank in the D.C. area (she had a Ph.D. in economics), and with my urging-and a few clarifying remarks about how normal it is to experience inertia in a career that is the envy of most professionals-she resigned her job.

The people that I describe as suffering Supernova Burnout suffer much more than the normal inertia that holds people in well-paying but psychologically unrewarding jobs. These people are trapped, or terrified of failing to live up to expectations, and suffer mightily as a consequence, but their core concerns differ in degree only, not in kind, from the ones affecting virtually all careerists. I use extreme instances of Supernova Burnout for illustrative purposes for the same reason that advertisers use beautiful women in ads for products ranging from automobiles to beer: to capture attention. The psychological forces that kept Martha in corporate America years longer than she wanted to be there are not apparent without an in-depth understanding of Supernova Burnout. The cases that I have chosen to describe in the pages that follow are designed to make the conflicts, doubts, anxieties, feelings of guilt, and hostilities that cause Supernova Burnout obvious and understandable to all.

I'm an alcoholic . . . I thought only losers became alcoholics.

— Jason Robards (from a National Council on Alcoholism advertisement)

Typical victims of Supernova Burnout let their bodies do their talking. Stress-induced cardiovascular disease and clinical depression are among the most common precipitants of career change I know of. When physical disease isn't available to provide a convenient exit strategy, self-destructive behavior can be relied upon to get the job done. Have you ever wondered why there are so many well-publicized cases of Wall Street tycoons getting caught in shameful situations that involve white-collar crimes such as insider trading, illicit sexual affairs, or violence? The underlying cause of these "inexplicable" acts is often an inability to admit that living the good life is anything other than psychological purgatory.

Roughly two years ago James McDermott, the former chief executive of a major New York City investment bank (Keefe, Bruyette & Woods), was charged with insider trading and securities fraud for allegedly alerting an adult-video actress, Marylin Starr, with whom he was having a sexual relationship, to a series of impending bank mergers.3 Can I say conclusively that what McDermott did was a quasi-intentional plea for help? Obviously not. But I can say that I have treated over twenty men with comparable wealth, status, and power who "inexplicably" ended their successful careers by recklessly infusing a disheartening day-to-day routine with the exhilaration of illicit criminal activities. While it may be true, particularly for multimillionaires, that crime doesn't pay, illegal activity can be an incredibly stimulating alternative to the monotonous ordeal their careers have become.

While a significant-and highly publicized-number of people who suffer Supernova Burnout break loose from their career imprisonment by engaging in self-immolation, I have found that the majority resort to alcohol abuse, the most reliable unhealthy mechanism there is for pulling those who detest life at the top out of their gold-plated psychological confinement. I have treated scores of men and women (who must remain anonymous) for success-induced alcohol abuse. The former Boston Bruins hockey great Derek Sanderson has allowed me to discuss his descent from highest-paid athlete on earth (displacing the soccer great Pele) to skid-row alcoholic.4 Sanderson's travails, along with the stardom-to-sot chronicles of successful people such as Jason Robards, have given me a wonderful point of departure from which to explain how my life's work took shape.

My experience drinking alcohol and spending time in two places where it was served-catering halls and bars-played a central role in helping me understand how success can control, overwhelm, or destroy a person's professional life. In a certain sense, were it not for my questions about the effects of alcohol consumption, I would never have formulated the theory of Supernova Burnout.

Father Knows Best, But Not About Booze

Several years before I was legally able to enter a bar, I had my first profound lesson about alcohol. I was roughly fifteen years old, an age when many boys find that the easiest way to endure dateless weekends is by joining a group of guys trying to dull the pain of adolescence by getting drunk. On one such night, after bingeing on a premixed screwdriver concoction that sickened me so completely I was unable to sneak into my home without creating a commotion, I was confronted by my father, who counseled me in furious yet caring terms: "My son, I want only what's best for you. You need to know that only bums get drunk. Men who cannot hold jobs and cannot provide for their families get drunk. I want you to be a success and a good provider. Do you hear me? Don't be a bum."

Copyright © 2001 by Dr. Steven Berglas. Excerpted by permission of Random House, a division of Random House, Inc. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.

About the Author

Dr. Steven Berglas is a clinical psychologist and adjunct faculty member at Harvard Medical School. He formerly wrote the Entrepreneurial Ego column for Inc. magazine, and his work has been profiled in The New York Times, Fortune, Time, The Wall Street Journal, and People. A counselor to hundreds of executives and industry leaders on the perils of success-induced burnout, Dr. Berglas currently resides in Los Angeles, where he teaches at the John E. Anderson Graduate School of Management at UCLA.