When Hard Work Becomes Self-Betrayal: Overwork Culture in Silicon Valley and the Asian Immigrant Experience

Silicon Valley is a place many people dream of working—a symbol of innovation, achievement, and success. But in my clinical work, it’s not uncommon to hear a different story behind the scenes. Stories of overwork, burnout, and even serious health concerns brushed aside for the sake of productivity.

For some, the culture of overwork feels like part of the job. But for others, especially Asian immigrant workers, the pressure can cut even deeper—intertwining with cultural values, personal history, and the invisible weight of immigration-related stress. These deeper layers often make it incredibly hard to slow down or say no, even when the cost is one’s own health.

In this blog post, I want to explore why some Asian immigrants are especially vulnerable to overwork and burnout, and how both cultural and psychological factors—particularly from a Jungian lens—contribute to this pattern. I also want to speak to the emotional toll this takes and offer reflections on how healing begins with reclaiming the parts of ourselves we’ve had to set aside in order to survive.

The Mask of Success – The Jungian Persona

In Jungian psychology, the persona is the social mask we wear to meet the expectations of the world around us. It helps us adapt, fit in, and function in society. But when we identify too closely with the persona—especially one built around being “the ideal worker”—we can lose touch with who we really are.

Many Asian immigrants shape their persona around being dependable, productive, and resilient—traits that are not only praised by employers but also deeply aligned with cultural values like perseverance and self-sacrifice. But when this mask becomes too rigid, it leaves no room for rest, imperfection, or asking for help. Even in the face of burnout or serious health concerns, the fear of being seen as weak or replaceable can keep someone stuck in a painful cycle.

In Jungian terms, many immigrants unconsciously shape their persona around the ideal employee—indispensable, tireless, and silent in their suffering. And the emotional cost of maintaining that mask can be profound.

The Parts We Hide – The Shadow

The shadow represents the parts of ourselves we reject or push away—qualities that may feel unacceptable, weak, or shameful. In a cultural context that celebrates diligence and endurance, emotions like exhaustion, anger, or vulnerability may be quietly hidden.

For many Asian immigrants, asking for rest or setting boundaries can stir up deep feelings of guilt or fear. These reactions often aren’t just about work ethic—they reflect years of cultural messaging and survival strategies, sometimes rooted in early family dynamics.

The pressure to be productive at all costs often forces the shadow—our very real needs for rest, care, and dignity—into the background.

Emotional Guilt and Complexes

Jung described complexes as emotionally charged patterns formed from unresolved inner conflicts and early relational wounds. Many immigrants carry guilt complexes tied to their family’s sacrifice, the challenges of immigration, or the unspoken hope of “making it” in a new country.

These complexes can become activated in workplaces where worth is measured by output and visibility. Even when someone feels depleted or overwhelmed, guilt and fear may override the quiet inner voice asking them to slow down.

Deep within many immigrants lies a tender and tangled web of emotion—a complex shaped by guilt, fear, and longing to make their family’s sacrifice meaningful.

When Overwork Becomes a Survival Strategy

For many Asian immigrants, overworking is not just about ambition or discipline—it’s a survival strategy. Work visas in the U.S. are often tied to a specific employer, which means job security isn’t just about income—it’s about staying in the country.

This creates a unique kind of pressure. Saying no, setting limits, or even taking sick leave can feel unsafe. The fear isn’t abstract—it’s the fear of having to leave, of dreams slipping away, of everything unravelling.

In therapy, I’ve sat with people who pushed through illness, grief, and chronic stress—not because they didn’t know how to rest, but because they didn’t feel they had permission to.

One client once told me, “I don’t even know what rest feels like anymore—my body is still in survival mode.”

And I understand that feeling. I personally went through the long, uncertain process of waiting for my green card. During that time, I felt enormous anxiety—not only about whether I could stay in the country, but also about whether I would ever have the freedom to choose work that truly felt meaningful. That experience still stays with me. It’s helped me hold space for others who carry the invisible burden of visa-related trauma and the emotional toll it takes.

The Cultural Narrative of Success

Layered on top of immigration stress is a deeply ingrained cultural message: success comes through hard work, sacrifice, and proving yourself. For many Asian immigrants, this message is part of a legacy—handed down through generations shaped by war, migration, scarcity, and the hope for a better future.

There’s often a quiet but powerful belief:

You’re only valuable when you achieve.

You rest when you’re done.

You don’t complain.

In a fast-paced, high-pressure place like Silicon Valley, this belief can take root quickly. Many immigrants arrive already conditioned to push through discomfort, stay silent when things feel off, and carry the weight of unmet expectations. It’s no surprise that these workers become highly valued for their dedication—but sometimes, that dedication comes at the cost of their health and well-being.

Conclusion: Reclaiming the Self

To live under constant pressure—from within and without—can lead to a quiet kind of self-abandonment. But beneath the tired persona, the Self still waits. It’s not just burnout we need to recover from—it’s the loss of connection with our deeper self.

In Jungian psychology, healing is a process of individuation—of becoming whole by reconnecting with the many parts of ourselves, especially the ones we’ve hidden or forgotten. For many Asian immigrants, this means learning to hear the quiet voices inside—the ones that say, “I’m tired,” “I want more,” or “I deserve to rest.”

Individuation is not selfish—it’s a path toward wholeness. And it begins with a brave and simple truth: I am more than what I produce.

This process is not always easy, especially when the world around us continues to reward overwork. But it is possible—with support, reflection, and the courage to turn inward. Working with the shadow, loosening the grip of guilt complexes, and questioning the masks we wear can help us build a more compassionate and sustainable relationship with work—and with ourselves.

The journey back to ourselves may start softly—in therapy, in writing, or in stillness—but its ripple effects are powerful. Reclaiming our humanity isn’t just healing for us. It’s a quiet, powerful act of resistance.

We are not here to be burned out. We are here to live, fully and freely.

For many Asian immigrants, overworking is not just about ambition or discipline—it’s a survival strategy.