Putting the cautious in cautiously optimistic

I'm holding hope and caution at the same time

I just wrapped up my first week at Zapier, and I have to be honest.

I feel good. And as weird as this sounds, that's a little bit concerning.

It's not that I want to be wary of good feelings. But this is what burnout can do. After spending three years in near-constant crisis mode, part of me doesn't quite trust peace yet.

At my last company, my former manager once described my work dynamic as "war time" versus "peace time." I spent most of my tenure in war: navigating leadership changes, building and rebuilding team culture, fixing cross-functional breakdowns—all on top of the usual startup chaos. If I’d gone through all of that in my mid-to-late twenties, I probably would’ve thrived on it.

But friends, I am tired.

That’s why I titled this newsletter what I did: putting the cautious in cautiously optimistic. I made this career transition for a reason, and deep down, I know it was the right move. I also know that I’m still at the beginning. I’m in the honeymoon phase, when everything feels calm and hopeful—mostly because I haven’t been around long enough for anything to go wrong yet.

In a way, the cautious optimism is a protective measure. I'm scanning for danger that isn’t actually there. I can see it in myself, and even a little bit in others—that quiet awareness that things are good for now. (For me, anyway. I can see the stress in others and completely understand why they’re stressed.)

And honestly, that’s okay. I chose Zapier for many reasons, one of which was the excitement of scaling an incredible product while diving headfirst into AI. I know there will be hard days ahead. But the right kind of hard can still be joyful.

So as I move into week two, I’m choosing to let myself feel optimism and caution at the same time. I don't want to force a mentality of pure positivity, nor do I want to go in waiting for this moment of joy to break down. I'm choosing happiness and caution. Feeling both hopeful and guarded.

That's an important part of recovery—learning to hold contradictions without forcing myself to choose a side.