Time is a finite resource. Not some magical renewable wellspring that gushes forth like a geyser of productivity while you smile beatifically at yet another “quick call” that stretches into the void of eternity.
NOPE. It’s more like a precious, limited-batch artisanal bourbon that everyone wants to chug like it’s discount swill at a frat party.
And in 2025? Holy mother of bullshit, it’s worse.
The always-on economy has evolved into something altogether more ravenous.
A many-tentacled beast slithering through every notification portal of your device-saturated life. The corporate world you escaped?
It’s still there, watching you with its beady little eyes, waiting for you to flame out spectacularly so you come crawling back, broken and compliant.
You don’t want that. I don’t want that for you. So let’s talk boundaries.
Not everyone deserves access to you. Not everyone who can fog a mirror should be allowed into your calendar, your inbox, your sacred creative space. Some people are time-vampires as my boy Ben Settle mentions.
They’ll drain you dry while complaining that your blood lacks adequate iron content.
Why you need boundaries? (a partial list of sanity preservation)
Because burnout isn’t just some cutesy buzzword of the day. (I hate LinkedIn for that shit)
It’s your nervous system setting itself on fire while your brain watches, while it helplessly eats stale cheese crackers.
Because “exposure” and “opportunity” are often code for “we’d like to harvest your organs while paying you in compliments.”
Because saying yes to everything means saying no to what actually matters… Like making actual money, or remembering what your family’s faces look like, or basic hygiene.
Because 2025’s AI-enhanced workflow expectations have created a hellscape where people think you should respond to messages within microseconds. As if you’re some flesh-puppet server farm instead of a human with bladder functions and occasional thoughts.
You need barriers…
Big, beautiful, fuck-off barriers. Not walls (we’re not monsters here), but well-crafted gateways that filter out the time-wasters, the energy-suckers, the “let me pick your brain”-ers who come wielding tiny forks and napkins tucked into their collars.
Send those assholes a paypal.me link for $99 that sets them up with a zoom calendar call for your time. The ones who respect it will pay and the ones who don’t won’t pay.
(And yes, I know your therapist told you to be “open to opportunity” But did they specify that this should include letting every random LinkedIn connection control your afternoon for their pyramid scheme pitch? I THINK NOT.)
Here’s what your boundaries might look like…
Application processes. Intake forms. Scheduled office hours. Tiered access models. Clear-as-a-freshly-Windexed-window pricing structures that don’t apologise for valuing your expertise.
Email autoresponders that don’t sound like they were written by an anxious Victorian butler.
Your corporate days taught you that accessibility equals advancement. That’s… and I cannot emphasise this enough…
Grade-A-Complete bullshit.
A carefully curated lack of accessibility is the hallmark of the successful independent professional in 2025.
Remember when the pandemic taught us about capacity limits?
Apply that wisdom to your professional life. Your time is a cozy neighbourhood bar with limited seating, not a stadium concert with general admission. And you’re the bouncer, the bartender, AND the talent.
Think I’m being dramatic? Hyperbolic?
THE EXACT OPPOSITE.
I’ve watched brilliant friends become hollow-eyed zombies shuffling back to the equivalent of corporate America (Here across the pond) because they couldn’t say no. Couldn’t build the systems that protected their time and energy. Their creativity and independence were consumed by the insatiable hunger of “just one more client” and “it’ll only take a minute.”
Don’t be them. Be the magnificent boundary-setting unicorn you were meant to be.
Your future self. The one who isn’t answering emails at 3 AM while quietly weeping into a cold cup of coffee, will thank you.
Set the damn boundaries. Protect your time like it’s the last roll of toilet paper in the apocalypse. Because it’s 2025, and the only thing between you and burnout is your willingness to say “that sounds like a you problem” to demands that treat your schedule like public property.
Go forth and filter ruthlessly,
Stephen Walker
P.S. If this email made you uncomfortable, good. Discomfort is the feeling of your old people-pleasing habits dying a necessary death. Pour one out for them, then move the hell on.
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Stephen Walker
Unit 146317
PO Box 7169
Poole
BH15 9EL
United Kingdom