The Icarus Paradox: When Success Masks Burnout
For anyone (and I am definitely one of them) who went into this holiday period in desperate need of a break, having pushed themselves that little bit too hard towards the end of the year. This is something to ruminate on as we start the New Year and enter 2026 with fresh intentions.
I've often thought about and written about our propensity to work so much. In thinking about this over the break I was drawn towards the story of Icarus.
In Greek mythology, Icarus crafted wings from feathers and wax to escape imprisonment. His father Daedalus warned him: fly neither too low nor too high. Too low, and the sea would dampen his wings. Too high, and the sun would melt the wax.
For all those who don’t know the story or who can’t remember what happened next… Overcome by the exhilaration of flight, Icarus soared higher and higher. The feeling was intoxicating — he was doing it, he was flying, he was free. He didn't notice the wax beginning to soften. He didn't feel the first feathers starting to fall. By the time he realised something was wrong, it was too late.
For me it’s such a useful metaphor to talk about how closely this mirrors our relationship with burnout and what I call...
The ‘Deceptive High’ of Overwork
Here's the uncomfortable truth: burnout doesn't always feel like burning out. In its early stages, it masquerades as peak performance. You're hitting your goals, responding to emails late at night, always available, always delivering. Your calendar is packed, your to-do list is long, and you're getting through it. You feel essential and productive.
This is the flight of Icarus. The sensation of soaring.
Like Icarus, we become intoxicated by our own momentum and the feeling of progression... Each completed project, each closed deal, each crisis averted reinforces the belief that we can maintain this altitude indefinitely. The buzz of achievement becomes addictive. We interpret our exhaustion as dedication and our adrenaline fuelled anxiety as a byproduct of ambition.
Meanwhile, the wax is ever so slowly melting.
The tragedy of the Icarus myth isn't just that he flew too high, it's that the very thing killing him felt like success. The warmth of the sun felt good before it became destructive. The height felt like freedom before it became fatal.
Similarly, many warning signs of burnout initially present as strengths. Working through weekends becomes proof of commitment. Difficulty disconnecting demonstrates how much you care. The inability to delegate shows leadership. Chronic stress becomes your new baseline, so normalised that you no longer recognise it as abnormal.
We don't notice the feathers falling one by one. We don't feel each small compromise we make with our wellbeing. We certainly don't see the sea approaching below.
Daedalus understood something his son didn't: sustainable flight requires staying in the middle path. Not too low, where fear and complacency dampen your potential. But crucially, not too high, where ambition burns through the very structures keeping you up.
The middle path isn't mediocrity. It's wisdom. It's understanding that long-term success requires protecting the systems that enable your performance—your health, your relationships, your mental clarity, your capacity for joy.
As leaders, we need to get better at distinguishing between the productive high of challenging work and the dangerous high of unsustainable overextension. We need to recognise that feeling productive while ignoring our limits isn't strength, it's the first stage of failure.
Entrepreneurship is littered with Icaruses (speaking from first hand experience) but my view is that this applies wherever you find responsibility in leadership. Whether that’s the CEO of a FTSE 100 company or a first time manager making their transition into leadership. The call to lead brings with it both great highs but also big challenges.
When I set out to build my first business with Julian Johnson we both wished we'd had better guidance. We brought on a Non-Exec (the incredibly wise Rob Allen) in the later years but by that time a lot of the damage had already been done and the wrong behavioural patterns had taken root. I also worked with incredible coaches in Laurie Bennett and Nicole Bradfield. So my advice for anyone who this resonates with is to find that support. Whether that be a coach or a mentor, somebody who can hold the mirror up to you to help you see where you’re flying off track.
It's one of the main reasons I trained to be a coach nearly 6 years ago. So that in my own small way I could pay forward the things I'd learnt.
