The Incomplete Script

Reflections on burnout, disillusionment, and questioning the stories we were told

A publication of first-person essays naming what work feels like — without hero framing. These are lived reflections, not advice.

Empty office conference table with notebook, papers, and laptop in a subdued modern workplace

The Guilt of Wanting More Money as a Social Worker:

I used to think wanting more money meant I wasn’t committed to the work.

It didn’t feel like ambition—it felt like betrayal.

Wanting more money didn’t mean I loved the work less—it meant I was human.

For a long time I kept my thoughts about pay quiet, even from myself.

There was a part of me that assumed that if I cared deeply, money should be secondary. And the moment I began to want more of it, a small voice whispered that I might be failing at this job.

Wanting more felt like wanting less meaning.

But the guilt came not from desire—it came from how deeply social work had shaped my sense of self.

I had already written about passion being used to justify low pay: when passion is used to justify low pay in social work.

And earlier, about why loving the work doesn’t pay the bills: why loving social work doesn’t pay the bills.

Those pieces looked at culture and compensation. This one is about the emotional reaction inside myself.

There were moments when I caught myself flinching at the thought of asking for a raise, as if it would prove I cared less about the people I worked with.

Sometimes I suppressed those thoughts altogether, convincing myself they were indulgent or inappropriate for someone in this field.

I didn’t want to look like I was “in it for the money”—even to myself.

The guilt wasn’t about money—it was about identity.

I noticed it most when I compared myself to friends in other careers, thinking they must feel more freedom with their finances—and feeling ashamed that I didn’t.

Even though I didn’t want their jobs, there was a part of me that longed for fewer financial constraints and more breathing room in life.

Earlier, I wrote about the financial stress that no one mentions: the financial stress no one mentions about social work.

The guilt wasn’t rational—it was habitual.

It was a pattern I learned from how this work framed worth and sacrifice.

Why does wanting more pay feel like guilt?

Because social work often frames emotional commitment and sacrifice as inherent to the role, making financial desire feel misaligned with identity.

Does wanting more money mean you love the work less?

No. Wanting financial stability is about sustaining your life and well-being; it doesn’t diminish your care for others.

Is this feeling common among social workers?

Many experience this internal tension, especially when the emotional value of the work conflicts with financial and practical realities.

The guilt wasn’t about wanting more—it was about how the job shaped what I believed I deserved.

Notice when desire feels shameful, and sit with what’s underneath that sensation.

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