You did everything “right.” The grades. The jobs. The grind.

You followed the rules and pursued success, maybe even achieved a great version of it. From the outside, your life might look ideal. But now, even with all the boxes checked, something feels… off.  

You’re not burned out, exactly. You’re not angry or ungrateful. But there’s just something inside that’s nagging at you, pulling at you, and won’t leave you alone.

That feeling? It might be your inner light flickering, waiting for you to notice.

You may have had to shut down a part of yourself to make your life work. Sometimes that trade-off is sustainable. But other times, the part we suppress is too essential to who we are. When we mute it, our sense of aliveness dims, too.

I faced this choice years ago. I was in a prestigious law role and, despite carrying six-figure law school debt, I jumped into the unknown.

When people asked why I would ever leave, I instinctively placed my hands over my heart and said, “I felt my light dimming. And I promised I would never let that happen.” 

That isn’t just my story. It’s becoming a cultural one.

According to Gallup’s State of the Global Workplace, only 31 percent of U.S. employees were engaged at work in 2024, the lowest level in a decade.  Globally, engagement dropped to just 21 percent.

This phenomenon, increasingly referred to as “The Great Gloom,” reflects a creeping emotional flatline characterized by widespread disengagement, lower morale, and a growing disconnect between purpose and performance.  

Maybe you’re one of the lucky ones, living in full alignment. For others, perhaps it’s just a glimpse: That presence some people carry. The way they walk into a room, fully intact. Radiant. Magnetic. 

What you’re witnessing is not charisma or confidence. It’s alignment, a state where someone’s energy, values, intuition, and drive are working together, focused in the same direction. 

When you override your alignment too often, when success becomes survival and performing replaces feeling, the cost is cumulative.

So the real question becomes twofold: How do you know when your light is fading? And how might you fight to keep it?

Start noticing what feels off

Sometimes it happens all at once. You wake up and realize you’re succeeding at a version of life that no longer reflects who you are. Other times, it fades slowly. You keep performing, but something in you starts to pull away.

When that feeling surfaces, the instinct is often to figure it out, to define exactly what’s missing before making a change. But you don’t need a perfect definition of what fuels your light to recognize when something is dimming it.

Instead of chasing clarity, start with contrast.

Here’s what that can look like in practice:

Pay attention to moments of emotional dissonance. If something strikes you as absurd, pointless, or deeply unaligned, don’t dismiss that feeling. That discomfort is data.

Example: I realized I couldn’t build my life in a system where someone’s proudest contribution was negotiating an alien invasion clause into a commercial contract.

Observe your physical and emotional response. Misalignment often shows up in subtle ways before you consciously realize something’s wrong. Start by noticing:

• Are you tired, even after a full night’s sleep?
• Is your energy scattered or agitated, rather than steady and focused?
• Are you going through the motions without feeling connected to what you’re doing? 

For me, every minute I spent there after that moment felt like jail. My body knew before I gave myself permission to say it out loud.

Question the meaning behind the work. Ask: If I spent the next 10 years doing more of this, who would I become? Would it move me toward the person I want to be?

And notice, do you envy people doing “less important” but more joyful work?

Recognizing the signs is the first step. But once you see them, the real work begins: choosing to do something about it.

5 ways to fight for your light

Here are five practical ways to begin.

1. Recognize that you don’t have to burn it all down. Fighting for your light doesn’t mean quitting your job or upending your life overnight. It means waking up. Reclaiming your agency. Rewriting the rules, your rules, even if you still need to operate within existing structures.

It’s about shifting from autopilot to intention. And that shift begins with small, conscious acts that help you remember who you are and what matters to you. 

I may have jumped into the unknown the first time, but since then I’ve learned to recalibrate, balancing how much soul and how much toll I bring to my ambitious career pursuits.

2. Listen for the subtle pull. That subtle, nagging feeling? It wants your attention. It’s your intuition, your essence, asking you to come home. Instead of brushing it aside, sit with it. Ask: What part of me have I muted to make this life work?

3. Practice micro soul work. You don’t need to fly to Bali or reinvent your whole identity. Give yourself 10 minutes a day to remember who you are outside of expectations. That might mean:

• Taking inventory of the projects you take on voluntarily, is there a theme?
• Journaling about what used to make you feel alive
• Sitting quietly with a question like: What am I tolerating?
• Moving your body with no agenda, no tracking, no PRs, just curiosity and tuning in

4. Name the invisible rules you’re still obeying. Write them down:

• “I can’t be creative.”
• “I’m only valuable when I’m productive.”
• “I must wear navy blue suits to be taken seriously.”

Then question them. Are these true? Who wrote these rules? Are they serving me, or shrinking me?

5. Reignite creative courage. Creativity is the expression of the soul. If you want to find your light, this is where to start. And if your first instinct is “I’m not creative”, see #4 above.

Start with something small, visible or tangible, and just for you. Then expand. The idea is to start creating proof that your light isn’t gone, it just needs space to shine.

Breaking free doesn’t always mean escape. Sometimes, it means expansion.

The real work isn’t to chase that light but to return to it, again and again, until it’s not just where you visit but the place you live from every day.