Work’s a bitch even though the big boss is not around.
Just thinking about running tight deadlines for press releases, working OT for marketing artworks and ensuring the people working under you do not fall asleep on their keyboards, are enough to give you permanent hemorrhoids.
I used to be a compulsive workaholic, even sleeping in the office for several days, to ensure project deadlines are met. Then, events occur over the years that make me realize that no matter how much effort you put in your work, life in its entirety, does not revolve around it. Like chalkboard on sidewalk, it is transient, as are humans. And what you get out of it are merely the forces that gets you through your life experiences in the first place. While passion, motivation and appreciation is monumental in driving satisfaction in one’s career, having none of that makes you a hollow vessel that’s knowledgeable but has nothing to feel.
So be it a career-driven sociopath on the edge of being a burnout or a domesticated home-body, I’ve been there both ways.
This is my respite. I choose life.
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