A Day As a Workaholic

I wake up feeling unrested, a weight on my chest.

I stare at the ceiling, brain in a fog.

My breath is shallow, but I’m not paying attention to it. I’m already in my head.

I think about the work waiting for me and feel a subtle urge to cry.

I use a meditation app to calm down. I go for a run in the park. I take my time in the peaceful womb of the shower. I feel a little better.

I pour myself a coffee, sit down at my desk, and get to work. 

My todo list is long and disorganized. I change the dates on tasks I intended to do yesterday and the day before.

My email inbox has a new list of bolded subject lines waiting for me to reply. I read through them, but don’t reply yet. I’ll come back to those later.

Self-doubt creeps in. 

“You see? You’re not cut out for this. You’re way behind. Everyone is going to realize you have no fucking clue what you’re doing. You’re going to let everyone down.” 

“SHUT THE FUCK UP”, I scream in silence. I hit play on an upbeat electronic track to get into flow. I lean in, my shoulders tighten, my pupils dilate. “I’ll work my way out of this.”

First the biggest, most urgent task. I really should have done this sooner. I’ll work on it for an hour. It takes three. Then small tasks. I get distracted by social media. Soon, my block of calls will start. Five hours of feeling busy but getting nothing done.

The work day is coming to an end. I said I would stop working at 7 but I just want to respond to a few more emails. Maybe then I’ll feel okay.

Slowly the voice would quiet. The tension would dissipate. I put a solid dent in the pile. For the moment, I feel like I’m enough. 

Close the laptop. It’s 8pm, no time to cook a proper dinner. Order in or eat out. 

My brain, body, and heart are fried. I’m still thinking about work. I got a lot done but the to-do list still looms. I’m tempted to check email, to validate I’m still needed, to distract me from the weight slowly returning to my chest.

Time to numb. TV maybe? Video games? How about a relaxing beer or joint? Anything to separate from work. Anything to not be reminded that I am still not enough. 

It’s 11pm. I’m spent. My brain numb. My body exhausted. 

I read two pages of the book I’ve been reading two pages at a time, and nod off.

I wake up feeling unrested, a weight on my chest.

This is a short post, or what I call a “Seed”. Seeds are simple ideas and reflections that may grow into something bigger. I publish seeds fairly frequently, as often as they sprout.

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