Personal Inventory

It's that time of year. The end of one year, the beginning of another.

It's the time of year I take personal inventory. Have those "internal conversations" we all have. (Yes, you do to. And it's OK to only admit it to yourself). Strip the ego, pride, insecurities and all else that goes into my persona. Take an honest look at my actions, my lack of action––hey now, keep your mind out of the gutter––and purpose. Yeah, that's been a tough one this year. Why? Because it was the first time since August 7, 2007 I've been in relatively good health. And lately, I've gone BACK to a Greg before cancer that I don't like. But I can change.

I've decided that I'm not going to let work drive my life. When I get caught up in trying to make the perfect TV commercial or the perfect work environment for the team I lead, I lose focus of what's really important. I need to LIVE every day, not just SURVIVE. (Yes, I am using a lot of CAPS. Sorry for the shouting). I need to understand that the pursuit of perfection is a distance that will never be covered. And that's more than OK. It's humbling. It's unattainable. It's human. Work should be work. Not the definition of my life. That line is getting blurred. And I rationalize my 60 hour work weeks with the thought of "it beats the alternative, not working at all."

While that's true, it's also not sustainable. And work is NOT the reason I fought so hard to survive cancer. I didn't struggle to be cancer free to work my life away or for a group of shareholders I will never meet or at the very least, give me a "thank you." The reason I struggled, fought, cried, hurt, prayed to make it through the night and had surgery after surgery was to LIVE. Live for the moment. The day. My family. My friends. It's going to be tough, because I know myself better than anyone––yes, even you, Teresa––and I will have many more conversations with myself.

Only this time, I'll be a better listener.