For the past three and a half years I lived for work. Not that I was getting paid extremely well, it was just something I had to do to stay in the comfortable middle-top tier and avoid the shit list. In the end, I suppose it paid off career wise.
Through my "living for work" years, I first lost touch with friends. It kind of worked from both ends. After working 12 hours, I really don't have the energy to dress up and look pretty to go out with people to meet people that would do nothing for me in the work arena; and the friends were not eager to hear me bitch about how a client pissed me off and how I was fuming for hours then eventually win the argument. To me, my days at work were important, everyday was a little teeny tiny steps to my ultimate success, but to everyone else around me it meant little to nothing. Even when I did go, I would be a shell and yawning by 9:30pm - for sure.
After having all my friends dwindle down to what I can count in one hand. I started to lose track of myself. I didn't go down any downward spiral of drug and alcohol (at least that'd be more rock 'n roll), but I definitely felt "life" slipping away. I would see a tired, lifeless person in the mirror with a few white hairs who is living day to day as scheduled. Gone were the days I sleep in and spend hours lounging around the house, then get ready at a last minute's notice for dinner with friends.
Through the past three and a half years I came to realized time is worth more than money or what the corporate world would label "success." Don't get me wrong, I am not about to turn Buddhist or live on a mountain. It is just about time to find a balance.
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