Overextension: Why You’re Exhausted and Overlooked (and How to Quit)

How overextension drains your power, and what changes when you stop tying your value to output. Best suited for: overachievers, silent fixers, and exhausted leaders.

Over what?

The first time I saw the word ‘overextension,’ I was staring at my laptop in a café in London, feeling as if I was just wearing my underwear. How can one word be so revealing, encapsulating a behavior that has been such a big part of my life? And how was I not even aware of it?

I used to believe that if I poured myself into every project, job, and relationship, the return would match the investment. A simple equation that seemed to apply to any endeavor. Who knows, it must be one of those things you get told ad nauseam when you are a kid, to the point where you don’t question its validity.

The assumption is simple: if I work harder than anyone else and produce results at the highest level, people will notice, word of mouth will spread, and I will rise. And if I expect others to do the same, then things are going to be really good.

But what actually happened was exhaustion; I became the person who patched every gap. I’m sure nobody intended this outcome for me; people are just too busy trying to carry on with their lives in the best way they can, but I did feel taken advantage of at times, unappreciated, and invisible.

Does it sound familiar at all?

I’ve seen the same story in others. When you give wholeheartedly, hoping the system will answer back, and acknowledgment never arrives, something inside shuts down. People keep delivering what’s expected, but their spirit is gone. It’s like watching a lifeless body kept moving by an electric current. After so many attempts and efforts unrewarded, withdrawal becomes the only shield left.

And that’s the danger of overextension. It drains your energy and hollows you out until you disappear inside the very system you once tried to hold together. If the environment cannot and will not reciprocate, then expecting effort to change the outcome only drains you further.

At some point, the question has to shift: Where’s the money for me?

Not in the literal sense, but in the sense of return, of balance, of nourishment. If I am working only to satisfy someone else’s expectations, if I end up empty-handed while others walk away fed, then something is deeply broken.

I’ve learned that I cannot keep giving without making sure that I, too, am satisfied. That doesn’t mean abandoning generosity, but recognizing that if I am left starving in the effort to feed others, eventually nothing I give will remain alive.

Where’s the money for me? This has become the simplest mantra to keep my effort aligned with reality. When I am satisfied, there is always more to give. When I am not, resentment grows.

For years, I thought the problem was effort. Now I believe the missing piece was pragmatic judgment: the ability to ask what this moment actually needs from me and what it does not.

Overextension is what happens when worth is tied to effort, distorting balance in both systems and people. One person overfunctions, the others unconsciously underfunction, and the system adapts to the imbalance.

In practical terms, people stop noticing your sacrifice because it has become predictable. What looks like extraordinary generosity to you becomes background noise to them. It’s sad and frustrating.

The opposite of overextension is self-valuation: knowing that your worth does not depend on how much you overdeliver, how many hours you sacrifice, or how often you rescue. Worth defines effort, not the other way around.

Self-valuation is the practice of recognizing your own worth first and then choosing effort that matches what truly matters. It means giving in ways that are aligned and sustainable, so your energy creates results without leaving you empty-handed.

The difference shows up everywhere. A colleague misses a deadline. In the old pattern, you stay late for three nights, covering their work so the project survives. You burn out, and the system silently learns that you will always step in.

In the new pattern, you hold the gap visible. You ask what the project actually requires, re-scope it if necessary, reassign work, or hold the colleague accountable. You give what is needed, but you do not silently absorb what belongs to others.

Or consider friendship. The old pattern is the friend who never remembers your birthday. You respond by giving even more, buying thoughtful gifts, planning gatherings, and overcompensating for their absence. Resentment grows.

The new pattern is self-valuation. You stop measuring the friendship by reciprocity alone. You lower your expectation to what this person can actually offer, and you give only what feels aligned for you. Maybe it’s a coffee once in a while; you still enjoy what exists without forcing it to be more. You are no longer investing as a way of earning love.

Overextension drains you, makes you invisible, and eventually, lifeless inside. Self-valuation balances you, makes you visible, and keeps you connected to what you do.

Separate your worth from your effort. As long as worth is contingent on output, you will default to overextension, even when the system doesn’t need it. Once you know your value is inherent, you can finally calibrate how much to give, where to give, and when not to.

PAUSE. LEARN. MOVE ON.

Psychologists call this pattern ‘contingent self-worth.’ When worth is contingent, you feel valuable only when you succeed, perform, or prove yourself through effort. It leads to perfectionism, burnout, and cycles of resentment.

Its opposite is ‘non-contingent self-worth,’ an internalized belief that your value is stable regardless of output. People with non-contingent self-worth show higher resilience, greater capacity for authentic relationships, and less susceptibility to burnout.

Sociologists describe the other side of this dynamic as ‘overfunctioning–underfunctioning.’ When one person consistently steps up, others unconsciously step back, because the system recalibrates around imbalance. Over time, the overfunctioner is drained while others disengage.

Professor Jennifer Crocker, one of the leading researchers on self-worth, has shown how contingent self-worth makes people overly dependent on external validation, fueling both perfectionism and vulnerability to setbacks.

Her work highlights that shifting to non-contingent self-worth is not indulgence but resilience, anchoring motivation in stability rather than fear of not being enough.

The next time you are tempted to overextend, pause and ask: Am I giving because it truly matters, or because I feel I won’t matter if I don’t?

That question is the pivot; it moves you from effort as proof to effort as choice. And if choice still feels abstract, ask the simpler one: Where’s the money for me?

You can reach Stephen at stephen@alygn.company