Reasonably Adjusted, Ridiculously Ambitious

What success looks like when you stop proving and start pacing.

Some people think chronic illness kills ambition. For me, it doesn’t. It just forces me to renegotiate the contract.

I’ve lived with chronic illness my entire working life, since I was seventeen. That’s twenty-five years of adapting, recalibrating, and refusing to let illness have the final say.

Ambition has always been there, humming underneath the pain and fatigue. Even when my body slowed down, my drive never did.

The hustle habit

I’ve had the kind of career that doesn’t follow a straight line. I’ve been a teacher, a communicator, a leader, a learner - sometimes all at once, most of the time barely holding it together.

At seventeen, I was already navigating symptoms most people don’t face until retirement. In my early twenties, I thought the only way to be seen as capable was to outwork everyone around me. So I did.

For a long time, I thought ambition meant exhaustion. If you weren’t the last one to leave the office or the first one replying to emails, were you even trying?

I’d learned early that being the sick one meant I had to be the best one; to overcompensate, overachieve, and never let anyone see me falter. It wasn’t drive; it was fear.

So I worked through exhaustion, pushed through flares, smiled through pain that would make most people lie down and re-evaluate their life choices.

For years, I didn’t tell anyone how much I was struggling. Not colleagues, not managers - sometimes not even myself. I treated silence like strength and rest like failure. That silence was doing me more harm than the illnesses themselves.

Now I look back and think, I wasn’t proving my worth, I was handing it away. I didn’t want pity, I wanted to be taken seriously. And I thought the only way to prove that was to never stop.

And you know what? People let me.

The career detour(s)

I’ve had a few different chapters.

At 27, I quit my job and went to university full time - with three young kids at home. Lectures attended, seminars participated in between school runs and painkillers. Essays written after mealtimes and bedtime routines.

After I got my degree I started my career in communications but there was always a niggle in the back of my mind. Then, after a few years in communications, I listened to that voice, quit my job again and retrained as a secondary school English teacher. I loved it. The literature, the energy, the creativity and yes, even the kids. But my health had never been worse.

Teaching required me to give more than I had, it broke me in ways I couldn’t fix with grit and determination. So, I made the decision that terrified me: I left.

It felt like failure at the time, but it wasn’t. It was a necessary course correction.

When I returned to communications, it felt like slipping into a pair of comfy slippers: familiar, grounding, right. It’s where I belong, and it’s where I’ve built a career I’m proud of. A career that’s far from over. Because yes, I’m still ambitious. And yes, I’m still aiming for the top. I’m just no longer willing to destroy myself to get there.

In my reasonable adjustment era

For most of my working life, I avoided talking about my illnesses. I thought being open would make people doubt my capability but being honest about what I need is what makes me capable.

I used to treat conversations about reasonable adjustments like a confession. Now I treat them as exactly what they are: logistics.

Flexible hours? That’s how I deliver at my best. Remote working? That’s how I protect my health and my focus. Time off to rest? That’s how I make sure I can still show up tomorrow.

I don’t whisper it anymore. I say it clearly. Because I’ve earned the right to build a career that works for me, not against me. Reasonable adjustments aren’t special treatment, they’re infrastructure. They’re what make brilliance possible.

So no, I’m not “lucky” to have them. I’m savvy and honest enough to ask for what I need to keep being excellent. I’ve earned the right to show up as I am.

That’s the thing about advocating for yourself: it’s not about asking for more than anyone else - it’s about creating the conditions that let you give your best.

Redefining Success

There are still moments - quiet, insidious ones - where doubt creeps in. When I wonder how others see me. When I push too far, even though I know better.

But that’s ok. Old mindsets don’t vanish overnight but now I know that ambition doesn’t have to mean burnout.

I’ve stopped measuring success by hours worked, emails sent, or meetings attended.
Now I measure it by impact. By how effectively I lead, create, and inspire. Not how long I sit in a chair doing it.

My ambition hasn’t shrunk; it’s matured. It’s learned to negotiate. I’ve stopped seeing reasonable adjustments as compromise. They’re an act of ambition, one that protects my longevity.

Because burning bright for six months is easy. Building something that lasts, and leaves a legacy, takes guts and plenty of rest.

Ambition, rewritten

My ambition used to be loud; all goals and grind. Now it’s grounded. It’s in the way I mentor others, in the boundaries I hold, in the space I create for others like me, in the quiet confidence of knowing I belong at the table - even if I need to bring my own ‘special’ chair.

I’m not trying to prove my worth anymore. I’m protecting it.

And while I still have moments of doubt, I’m also bloody proud of myself.

Proud of how far I’ve come. Proud of how I work now. Proud of how I am absolutely slaying the game. Proud to be ambitious and disabled - unapologetically both.

Ambition doesn’t disappear when your body changes. It just learns better boundaries.

I haven’t lowered my standards and don’t expect employers to give me a free ride - I will outperform the next person because I am that good at my job but I have changed the terms of the contract.

Reasonably adjusted. Ridiculously ambitious.

If this resonated with you, please share it. Send it to the person in your life who’s ambitious and exhausted. And if you’re building a career that works with your body, not against it, you’re in the right place.

💬 Tell me in the comments: what’s one “reasonable adjustment” that’s changed your working life for the better?