Introduction
There was a time when working at a company meant steady security and trust. If you gave forty years of service, you could count on a pension, a gold watch, and benefits that lasted through retirement. Many workers could also afford a home and had reliable healthcare to fall back on. Support systems were built into the workplace, even down to small acts of care, like sending flowers when a loved one passed away. These structures gave people reasons to stay loyal and invest in their companies. But slowly, those supports began to fade away. Companies started expecting the same or more work without giving the same protections in return. Workers began to feel betrayed as layoffs became sudden and final, with no real help. The sense of loyalty broke down as employees were treated like they were replaceable. What once looked like a path to stability turned into a life filled with risk and uncertainty.
The Cost of Climbing
At the same time, leaders were taught to survive in the system by hiding parts of who they really were. Advancement often meant “by any means necessary,” even if it required covering up your true self. Masking, which is usually talked about with marginalized or neurodiverse people, became the quiet rule of success in many workplaces. I saw it all around me—in myself, in my coworkers, and even in white men who pretended to be characters they couldn’t keep up forever. The system rewarded appearance over honesty and pushed people to trade authenticity for recognition. But this mask always came with a cost, creating stress, emptiness, and a culture built on escape. If people were truly happy, they wouldn’t need drugs to wake up, alcohol to fall asleep, or conferences to run from their lives. These habits were symptoms of something deeper, not signs of joy. The truth was plain to see: this wasn’t real happiness. It was only survival inside a broken framework that demanded too much and gave too little.
Escapism and Identity
Escapism thrives when identity is tied too closely to recognition systems that don’t honor authenticity. I saw leaders chase praise, titles, and perks while silencing who they really were. I felt it myself in moments where even my natural reactions, my hair, my tone, my presence were policed. There was a season where I straightened my hair exclusively because I was told it was “the executive look.” Ironically, I received more compliments when I embraced my natural curls, because authenticity always shines brighter. Yet the corporate narrative discouraged truth, teaching us that assimilation was the price of acceptance. The more people attached their self-worth to external approval, the more they ran from themselves. At the end of that chase, there is only one confrontation left—the self you can no longer avoid. That confrontation was the turning point in my own story.
The Shift in Perspective
When I left higher education and entered the corporate world, I experienced this reality head-on. At first, I assigned my value to the recognition I received for empowering my teams and driving meaningful movements. Looking back, that work was far more impactful than any raise or promotion. Yet, I found myself motivated less by impact and more by validation. I was driven by the recognition of bosses who praised me for destroying my boundaries and working into the night. The system rewarded burnout as loyalty, applauding exhaustion as commitment. I fell into the same trap as so many leaders before me—believing recognition equaled worth. It took time, but eventually I saw how unsustainable and hollow this framework really was.
Summary
The corporate promise of security eroded into a cycle of exploitation masked as opportunity. Leaders learned to climb by hiding themselves, while workers were asked to give more and receive less. Escapism became a coping mechanism for the deep unhappiness baked into this system. Identity was traded for recognition, even as authenticity proved to be the true source of power. My own story reflected these patterns, as I allowed validation to drive me deeper into self-erasure. The turning point came when I realized recognition without authenticity is just another cage. What matters most is the work that empowers, sustains, and honors the truth of who we are.
Conclusion
When I finally stepped away, I saw that the recognition I once craved had been an illusion. The real value lay not in titles or pats on the back, but in the impact I made and the authenticity I reclaimed. The system taught me to mask, but life taught me to shed it. I learned that a raise is fleeting, but integrity endures. Recognition fades, but truth radiates. And when you no longer need validation to feel whole, you find a freedom the system cannot take away. This was my course correction—the moment I stopped chasing approval and started choosing myself.