Confessions of a Workaholic
Like many others, it took me a while to realize I was in trouble. I always thought it was a good thing to work hard, even to the point of exhaustion. If you want something, you have to work hard and earn it was the message I received growing up. I witnessed as my father worked himself into an early grave. He was only 57 years old when he passed. I swore to myself I would never let that happen to me. I vowed I would take vacations and have fun. I would save money, travel, enjoy life, and retire at a reasonable age. I even heard myself telling others that no one on his deathbed ever said “I wish I had spent more time at the office” from Paul Tsongas’ memoir Heading Home.
Present Day
It’s now thirty-one years since my father passed and I still work too much. It’s even crazier because I have had a couple of major illnesses. One would think I would have slowed down after being diagnosed with Lupus six months after he passed, but I just kept going. I had to be tough and push through it. I was not about to let an illness stop me from doing what I wanted to do. I took medication for a while just to get back on my feet. I changed my diet and lifted weights. I gave up soda and alcohol and eventually, I became gluten-free. I thought it was working until it wasn’t.
Life or Death
Eight years ago, I was diagnosed with breast cancer. Aggressive breast cancer nonetheless. It was nothing to fool around with. This was not a lumpectomy situation; the cancer wanted to take over my body. Once again, I said this would not beat me, or define me. I was tough and I knew I could beat it, but it wouldn’t be easy. First, there was chemo, the red devil they call it. I only made it through 3 of 4 rounds because the skin was coming off the tips of my fingers. Then the easier chemo, but I still struggled and had to stop early. Finally, I got the green light for surgery! I was all set for a bilateral mastectomy.
A week after the surgery I got a call from the surgeon who said none of the biopsies were cancerous so I was in the clear. This was good news indeed. Now it was time to heal and plan for reconstruction. I took 3 weeks off work for the surgery and recovery. Leading up to that, I had only taken Fridays off for my chemo treatments. I was still working full-time through all of this. I told myself I would drive myself crazy if I didn’t have the distraction of work, plus I had medical bills to pay. A few months later, I had my reconstruction combined with an I had surgery on Friday so I could recover over the weekend and only miss 1 day of work.
Finally Came to My Senses
Looking back, I realize how insane this all was! Why did I work so hard during this difficult time that could have easily been the end of my life? Even worse, this trend continued until last year when my autoimmune disease decided to rear its ugly head again with a version affecting my skin. Now I find myself wearing nitrile gloves as it is the only way I can handle paper because my fingers are dry and painful. It’s a new year and I realize I cannot keep doing the same thing and expecting different results, you know… the definition of insanity. Yes, I must be insane to work this hard and not put my health first.
Lately, I have been wondering what am I missing. I have a wonderful man and our incredible dog is the Queen of our home. We have peace and love and wonderful friends, yet I feel like I am missing something. Could it be that work has defined me all these years and now that I am getting close to retirement, I have no sense of myself outside of work? How did this happen? Over the years I have had great adventures, vacations, hikes, parties, volunteer work, amazing animals, and much more! So how did I let work overshadow all that?
I recently discovered the book by Malissa Clark. Malissa herself admitted that she put work before the birth of her daughter rather than taking time off. I applaud Malissa for that, and it eased my mind as I recall working in the waiting room of the hospital while my dad was in the ICU. In the book, Malissa asks the reader to take the self-assessment quizzes to figure out if they are indeed a workaholic. In my case, it has already been established that I passed overachiever years ago so no need to answer the questions. I know I am a recovering workaholic.
Life After Workaholism
I have already begun to dial it back to a reasonable workload. I concluded that I am not as productive as I once thought due to these ‘never not working’ tendencies. I finally decided to put myself first. I spend more time reading and last year I began writing again. Much to my surprise, my material was well received. My creativity had long since been snuffed out by my incessant need to be busy, so it was nice to revisit that feeling of being lost in a creative endeavor.
I am sharing my story in the hope that any workaholics who read it will recognize that work is not everything. Family, friends, lovers, beloved pets, and your sanity are far more important than any job ever will be in the grand scheme of life. I wish you good health and much happiness in your life.
