Wednesday, September 14, 2005

As a Recovered Workaholic

I used to be in love with my job, to the point that I often worked 60-hour weeks, going in early, staying late, working on weekends. I would sometimes wake up in the middle of the night thinking about work, solving problems. I was often embarrassed to admit to friends and even to my family the degree to which I was committed to my job.

Then about a year ago, I stopped working all those extra hours. To the contrary, I often find it hard to get in 40 hours of work each week, finding reasons – both medical and personal – to be away from the office. Oddly enough, the perceived quality of my work has not changed. No one has even noticed that I am working less.

As I sit here yearning for these deep friendships that don’t seem to be materializing for me, I now see some of the reason why I used to work so much, why I derived so much satisfaction from my job. My non-living, non-emotional job was always there for me, always waiting day or night. Whereas people are not always available.

I see the potential for music to take the place of my job as a focal point. It is interesting that I am making such a point of playing music that also involves other people. It is a way of assuring that my passion will still have a human element.


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