The Pressure to Perform in Tech (And Why You Don’t Have to Be Exceptional Every Day)

It’s International Day of Awesomeness.

In tech, that almost feels redundant. Because if you work in this industry long enough, you start to believe that awesomeness isn’t something you occasionally rise to — it’s the baseline. The expectation. The unspoken requirement.

Ship faster. Think sharper. Lead stronger. Learn the next framework before the current one settles. Have the answer. Be decisive. Be visible.

Be exceptional. Every day.

I learned that pressure early.

In high school, between 2000 and 2005, I was the only girl in my school interested in computers. It was an all-girls school, and the future presented to us was tidy and predictable: doctor, lawyer, accountant. Respectable professions. Understood professions. Software development was not part of that conversation.

When I went to technical college to study Software Development, I found myself one of about ten women in a sea of men. Then came the workplace — rooms where some men genuinely believed I couldn’t possibly know how to write code. Rooms where I felt I had to prove myself before I could even participate.

So I did what many women in tech did back then.

I worked harder.

I prepared more.

I made sure I knew my material inside out so that no one could catch me off guard. If there was even a small gap, I closed it. If there was doubt, I overcorrected.

And slowly, without noticing it, I absorbed a dangerous belief: that my worth was directly tied to my performance. That if I ever had an off day, it wouldn’t just reflect a human fluctuation — it would confirm every stereotype I was trying to outrun.

That kind of pressure reshapes you. It trains you to equate exhaustion with commitment and intensity with excellence.

For a long time, I lived like that. Until I reached the brink of burnout — and maybe crossed it.

Because trying to be exceptional every single day leaves no room for being human. When you believe you must always be the one who saves the day, you panic the moment you don’t have the answer. When you think awesomeness means velocity, you measure your value in output. When you aim for 120% as a baseline, anything less feels like failure.

It’s not sustainable. And it’s not healthy.

Over the years, my definition of awesomeness has changed.

Today, it doesn’t look like intensity. It looks like consistency.

It’s showing up even after a difficult day. It’s regulating your own nervous system before stepping into a meeting, because your team will feel your energy long before they process your words. It’s keeping your promises — especially the small ones. If I tell someone I’ll get back to them at a certain time, I do. Trust is built quietly, in those follow-through moments no one posts about.

It’s putting documentation in place even though no one enjoys it, because strong processes reduce hero culture. It’s regular check-ins that catch tension early, before it becomes a crisis. It’s noticing a disturbance in the force and addressing it calmly instead of waiting for drama.

Most companies celebrate the hero who rescues the sprint at the last minute. I look at that and see process gaps. Sustainable excellence isn’t built on adrenaline spikes; it’s built on rhythm.

And here’s the part I still have to remind myself of:

You do not have to give 120% every day.

You are allowed to give what you have. Some days that will be sharp, creative, decisive energy. Other days it will be steady, maintenance energy. And some days it will simply be this: I showed up.

The truly exceptional thing is not burning yourself out trying to prove you belong. The exceptional thing is showing up — again and again — with integrity, calm, and follow-through. Especially on the days that aren’t shiny enough for LinkedIn.

We live in a highlight culture. Promotions are announced. Product launches are celebrated. Funding rounds are applauded. Very few people post about the ordinary Tuesday where they kept a promise, supported a teammate, or chose sleep over squeezing in one more “productive” hour.

But those are the days that build careers. Those are the days that build trust. And those are the days that build companies strong enough to withstand more than one intense season.

So on this International Day of Awesomeness, here’s something quietly radical:

You don’t have to be extraordinary today.

You don’t have to save the sprint. You don’t have to outperform yesterday. You don’t have to prove that you belong.

You are allowed to be consistent.

You are allowed to be human.

And if you show up with what you genuinely have — not what you think you should have — that is more than enough.