Perhaps our highest duty is to enjoy our time off
One that I have failed over and over
I made the mistake of working all Thanksgiving. My job has put so much on my plate, I would have missed important deadlines if I hadn’t (I might still miss them anyway).
Though my spouse has been very understanding, I’m still reeling from sorrow and regret.
It’s not just that I didn’t get to rest and now I’m on the edge of burnout. It’s that I can see the sadness I have caused by not being truly present.
Some time back, on the weekend before our wedding, I got a last-minute assignment from a client, and my supervisor refused to cover it even though I was supposed to be off. I took it on, hoping to do it in a day or two before the weekend was done and I could take the rest of the week to get married.
But the usual stress combined with resentment and threw me into a spiral. I had a full meltdown, as if I was 5 years old. I couldn’t control myself. A grown adult, sobbing and crying at my desk, with my fiancée trying to soothe me. All instead of just being excited we were about to be married. She still married me a few days later. I am very lucky.
My point: these are just two of many important breaks that are now at least partly marred in my memory because of my workaholism. And for what? It’s never worth it.
I hope we figure out a more enlightened system to ensure our survival. But until then, most of us will work most of our days at jobs we don’t care about. The precious ones we don’t are the ones we have to make count, the ones that make it all feel somewhat worth it, the ones that make or break families.
I vow to do better next time.