Workaholics Annonymous
We have been brainwashed to want to be worker bees
”I’m a workaholic,” said I many moons ago.
It was my badge of honour that I wore proudly for the world to see. 2017 marked the peak of my madness when I worked every day (apart from my wedding anniversary) from about 5:30 am ‘till 10:00 pm, Monday to Sunday. Ok, it wasn’t the full year, I managed this impossible schedule until the end of November when I finally crashed and burned; didn’t turn up to work the next morning or any other morning after that — I quit via a text message to my boss, he demanded a conversation, I said no, and slept for two weeks straight.
Now, don’t get me wrong, I loved my job, but I bought into this ‘hustle’ mindset; if you want to succeed, you gotta put in the hours. Technically, I did ‘succeed’, I climbed to the top of the ladder in a male-dominated industry, managing multi-million dollar (commercial construction fitout) projects in major capital cities around Australia, and earning a very decent income with a brand new company car, plus petrol card, plus other bonuses etc. But, it almost ruined me on a personal level; my health and emotional wellbeing.
When the dust settled, I took some time out to reflect. I noticed that we willingly get on that treadmill, maybe not to the extreme that I took it to, but most of us to some degree. It becomes our drug, on play/repeat day after day, we start to believe that’s who we are, we don’t know how to live any other way.
Often portrayed in the media or movies, the workaholic is shown as a smart, successful professional burning the midnight oil in their office. God forbid we take the time to reflect. Reflection is viewed as something admirable but something that can be left for the holidays, that’s if we take a holiday to begin with, and even when we do, we (the workaholics) feel guilty that we’re not working; unable to zone out, the treadmill finds its place in us, we’re no longer able to leave it at the office.
The treadmill runs 24/7 on autopilot, days turn into months, then years. Then one day, we wake up and we’re 67 — we missed our life, it’s gone.
Workaholism is often mistaken for good work ethic, however, these two terms mean two completely different things. According to a few dictionaries and Wikipedia, a workaholic is;
a person who works compulsively. The term originates from alcoholism. The person works at the cost of their sleep, and social functions such as meeting friends or family. While the term doesn’t necessarily imply that the person enjoys their work, it can imply that they simply feel compelled to do it.
And according to Cambridge Dictionary;
work ethic is the belief that work is valuable as an activity and is morally good.
How is that for a comparison!
I did a lot of soul searching in 2018; I took an extended (almost 2 years) holiday in Europe, started writing, something I have always enjoyed doing. Looking back, I’m grateful for my burnout, it was a wake-up call for me to realise there is more to life than working like a crazy person. I regret not having done it earlier — my life is completely different today; I actually see my family, I spend time with them (a.k.a. I’m present), I enjoy the weather and the walks my husband and I take in the park or on the beach.
I wrote this story to encourage you to reassess your situation, maybe you have bought into the same lie as I have, running the race with no price in sight. I used to idealise other workaholics, I truly believed that being a workaholic proved that I’m serious about my dreams and goals — how wrong was I.
