On Leadership Burnout and Transitioning from Design Management to IC
There are about 34,600,000 articles about how to transition from an individual contributor to a design manager role, and about 0 for the other way around.
Success is too often defined singularly. In the design world, you’re either on the management track, or you’re on the IC track. While these two paths are positioned as “dual” or “parallel” tracks, the reality is that as an IC designer, there comes a time when you are nearing the top rung, and you look up — do you keep climbing onto that management ladder (which is actually stacked on top of the IC one)? Or do you stay where you are, and realize that there’s nowhere else to go?
Despite my fear of heights, I did continue to reach for the next ladder, and joined Doctor On Demand as a Design Manager in the fall of 2020. It was the perfect fit—telemedicine was soaring due to the pandemic, the design team was small and ripe to grow, and I was armed with decision-making power about how to build the team, who to hire, and what problems they should tackle to make the most impact. But as life would have it, I found out that I was pregnant a few short months in. My bump grew as my team grew, and I was promoted to Design Director. Fast forward 6 months and 6 new hires, I spent my last day saying farewells on Zoom, then reluctantly sending my OOO coverage plans and auto-replies before closing my laptop.
During my leave, the company went through a merger and became Included Health. The team grew at least double in size, so returning felt more like starting at a new job than going back to something familiar. There was no recognizable tool, process, or culture from the past. Personally, I also felt estranged — I had given birth to identical twin girls and shifted my entire being into taking care of newborns. Suddenly, my old role at work felt like an itchy, oversized sweater, in which I felt small and uncomfortable in.
There is something really unnerving about trying to do it all, and not doing any one thing well. It was acknowledging the poor fit, then deciding to do something about it that was the challenge. To orient yourself in one way, in a certain direction your entire career, and to admit that it’s no longer the right path took some serious self-reflection, self-compassion, and re-examination of what my values are to determine what work-life balance means for me in this new life stage. No amount of Googling was going to reveal an answer.
For awhile, I tried to convince myself that things were fine — that the sweater just needed wearing in, that the itchiness would go away. The denial came from a place of fear, shame, and binary-thinking (good/bad, success/failure, always/never). Pesky worries about disappointing the team, how this might look on my resume, and how I would perform as an IC kept me in a state of paralysis. It took many conversations with my manager, a series of therapy sessions, and connecting with a few others who went through similar transitions to even begin to picture what this change could look like. I had to admit aloud that while the sweater looked good on the rack, and I spent many years saving up for it, that what I really need right now are some cozy, pandemic-approved, and parenting-friendly sweatsuits.
When I finally committed, my manager worked with HR to make a lateral change for me from Director of Product Design to Sr. Staff Product Designer. We shared the news with the team and I felt a load of relief. I can’t wait to roll my sleeves up again and start creating, becoming best friends with the newest Figma plug-ins, and solving UX problems in a more hands-on way. Less management meetings will mean more heads down time to get into a flow state while still providing value for the business, and reserving some mental energy to care for my now toddlers in the mornings and evenings.
I’m so grateful for Included Health in supporting this decision, and for having clear professional tracks to enable both. I’m also thankful for the flexibility of those around me in forming around this change and moving forward with the tide. Change is hard, but the best part is that I get to continue working with the inspiring team of talented designers, researchers, and content writers in our mission to improve healthcare for all.
For any design leader who finds themself missing the craft, idly itching to switch courses but not sure how, this one is for you. I can now assure you that there is a cohort of us, albeit underground, who came around unscathed with no regrets — perhaps even as better designers having led teams and been close to the strategy and business. If this resonates with you, please reach out — I would love to chat.
