I'm doing it again.
I'm putting work ahead of everything else. Last time I worked this hard for this long, I started to feel bad. Really bad. It was cancer. And it was only 6 years ago.
Now I'm not throwing myself a pity party here. But I am trying to take a step back and look at what I can do differently. Because I am the problem AND the solution. I need to say no more often. I need to delegate. I need to stop trying to "fix" everything. I am worried.
I have to remind myself that I can always get another job. I can't get another life. This is the only one I have. And after surviving cancer twice, I actually feel like I'm in the bonus round of life. (As if working 6-7 days a week, 10+ hours a day is a "bonus").
Last night as I was turning off the lights and locking the doors downstairs, something on the fridge caught my eye––or maybe it was calling my name. Like, "hey fuckhead. You trying to kill yourself." It was a picture of My Brother From Another Mother, Larry. There he was, with his arms stretched out wide and a huge smile on his face. It's a picture from his memorial service announcement. Larry passed away from cancer––three weeks from diagnosis to death––a year-and-a-half ago. He was my "heat check", as Larry worked in the same business as I do. This was after my Wife had told me to never skip lunch again. Later on in the middle of the night, I woke up thinking about what I could do to get myself to change.
And that's not healthy either.
I'm putting work ahead of everything else. Last time I worked this hard for this long, I started to feel bad. Really bad. It was cancer. And it was only 6 years ago.
Now I'm not throwing myself a pity party here. But I am trying to take a step back and look at what I can do differently. Because I am the problem AND the solution. I need to say no more often. I need to delegate. I need to stop trying to "fix" everything. I am worried.
I have to remind myself that I can always get another job. I can't get another life. This is the only one I have. And after surviving cancer twice, I actually feel like I'm in the bonus round of life. (As if working 6-7 days a week, 10+ hours a day is a "bonus").
Last night as I was turning off the lights and locking the doors downstairs, something on the fridge caught my eye––or maybe it was calling my name. Like, "hey fuckhead. You trying to kill yourself." It was a picture of My Brother From Another Mother, Larry. There he was, with his arms stretched out wide and a huge smile on his face. It's a picture from his memorial service announcement. Larry passed away from cancer––three weeks from diagnosis to death––a year-and-a-half ago. He was my "heat check", as Larry worked in the same business as I do. This was after my Wife had told me to never skip lunch again. Later on in the middle of the night, I woke up thinking about what I could do to get myself to change.
And that's not healthy either.
Posts
No comments:
Post a Comment