It pays the bills

Am I becoming a workaholic?

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Nah, that is so not me.

But I do get concerned (read: worried) and shoulder more than my fair share of responsibility when it comes to work. When I’m rushing deadlines for tenders there is absolutely no way I would slack off, I’d come in early (though I rarely stay late) and thoroughly stress myself out with work. So much so that I have trouble sleeping at night sometimes, tossing and turning and waking up at ungodly hours over and over again, running quotation figures in my head and having nightmares of missing that important deadline (which I never do anyway). I am even sometimes aware of struggling in that half-awake, half-asleep state.

But while I am not a workaholic (I greatly resent free time eaten into and wasted by having to come back to work), I do have difficulty cutting loose when urgent personal matters arise and I have to skip work to attend to them. I hyperventilate a little when worrying how they will cope without me, then reluctantly let it slide.

While I was complaining yet again about the volume of work I have, someone just asked me if I enjoyed my work. I said I don’t have time to sit down and think whether I do or not. But this I know, I won’t do it forever. This can’t be my calling, if there is such a thing. There is not much joy in it. It is just work, work, work; neither bad nor good, which for the moment, suffices.