Laura Mayer was commuting on the New York City subway one busy Monday morning when her vision started narrowing. Her hand, gripping a metal pole overhead, began slipping with sweat. Her skin turned hot, then cold. When Mayer, then a new podcast executive, stumbled out of the train, she fainted.
But once she regained consciousness and called her husband, who took her to the emergency room, Mayer’s thoughts weren’t on her health. They were on the meeting she missed. “The nurse took some blood, some urine, my vitals, and I asked for the Wi-Fi password,” Mayer wrote in her new book, Tryhard, A Cautionary Tale of Clocking In and Spinning Out.
Even after clinicians diagnosed it as a panic attack, Mayer didn’t slow down. A colleague’s concern about her unsustainable work pace went unheeded. She proceeded to show up for work the day after her wedding, viewing it, she wrote, as “commitment that nobody could deny.” Though she’d quit drinking alcohol years earlier, working, she said, was “the addiction I found while dodging another.”
Psychologists vary in how they view—and name—cases like Mayer’s. While not an official diagnosis in the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders (Fifth Edition), some consider what’s colloquially referred to as “workaholism” a behavioral addiction like gambling. Others see it more like a manifestation of obsessive-compulsive disorder or anxiety, and may prefer the term “compulsive overwork.” It can alternatively be understood as a surface-level problem burying a deeper insecurity or offering an escape from a trauma the worker doesn’t want to face.
Regardless, mental health experts agree that some people are excessively consumed by their work—and remote access to work on all manner of devices normalizes it. The consequences don’t only pile up for workers’ mental, physical, and relational health; they can be counterintuitively detrimental to their careers, too. “Workaholism is really worth taking seriously,” said Malissa Clark, PhD, head of the University of Georgia’s Industrial-Organizational Psychology Program, who’s been studying the phenomenon for about 15 years. “It has real consequential negative outcomes for individuals, for their partners and families, and for organizations.”
[Related: The hidden cost of workplace rustout]
Psychologists are poised to help. “Getting caught up in the debates about whether it’s an addiction or not is missing the boat a lot of times, particularly when you’re on the front lines [doing clinical work],” added Joshua Grubbs, PhD, an associate professor in the University of New Mexico’s Department of Psychology who studies the social construction of behavioral addictions. “What you really need to be doing is understanding what’s going on in that person’s life, what function that behavior is serving, and figuring out: Are they living the life that they want to live, and what would it take to get them there?”


