Workaholic III

There is a truism that tells us that nobody on their deathbed wishes they had spent more time at the office. These words are meant to get us to appreciate what is really most valuable and important in our lives, before it is too late. It is not our jobs, but our relationships that truly matter. This is my story as a recovering workaholic.

Today I am doing better. I am striving to remain in control of my work life. I am consciously trying to ensure that my work does not define me. I can assure you that this is never going to be an easy thing for me. I can still feel that powerful drug coursing through me after I have had a productive day. I have found it much easier now, given what I have been through, to not take my work home with me. In the past, even after a long day at work, I would still be emotionally involved with the day's happenings when I got home. I was physically present, but my mind was a thousand miles away. I was just not there.

I read a self-help book recently that strongly advocated that we make sure that we take our full measure of vacation time each year at work. My knee-jerk reaction has always been something like, "But I have too much going on to be gone that much." In reality, I just did not want to miss anything. Whatever project I was involved with could certainly have gone on quite swimmingly in my absence. I just did not want to admit this to myself, or to others. I used to joke whenever someone suggested that I take a vacation, "I have nothing to vacate from." Today I have clearer vision. While I cannot change the past and the negative impact that my decisions had on those I cared about, I can strive to do much better in the future.

(Part 3 of 3)

Workaholic II

There is a truism that tells us that nobody on their deathbed wishes they had spent more time at the office. These words are meant to get us to appreciate what is really most valuable and important in our lives, before it is too late. It is not our jobs, but our relationships that truly matter. This is my story as a recovering workaholic.

Now, having considered my previous thoughts (see Workaholic I), which I believe are valid, I do find a kernel of important truth in the words of my colleague those many years ago. The kernel is that while work must be important to us, and we must take our work seriously and give of ourselves, we must not let work rule our lives. Our families and personal relationships cannot be pushed into the backseat or the closet. They cannot be neglected or ignored in our drive to further our career or our intellectual girth. Unfortunately for me, this is a lesson that I learned rather late in life. Some very important blossoms in my life withered and died away and I never noticed. Hopefully though, it is not too late for me to put the lessons that I have learned into practice.

Personally, I have known that I would be a scientist since I was a young boy. My field held a special fascination for me. I wanted to know everything and I remember how impatient I was with the slow pace of my education. Increasing my knowledge was a thrist that just could not be quenched. For years I threw myself unapologetically into 100-hour weeks. My lab eventually though became a place that not only fascinated me, but also a place where I could hide from the problems of the outside world. Furthermore, with my success at work, it became a place that fed my ego and established my self-worth. It became an addiction, and what a powerful drug it was. While my real world crumbled down around me, I was buoyed and supported by my work. The more success that I had and the more good feelings I received from my efforts, the more I continued to strive and to work and to push. All the while, I never perceived that I had lost nearly everything that mattered to me in the outside world. When I understood what I had done and where I was, it was already far too late to do anything about it.

(Part 2 of 3)

Workaholic I

There is a truism that tells us that nobody on their deathbed wishes they had spent more time at the office. These words are meant to get us to appreciate what is really most valuable and important in our lives, before it is too late. It is not our jobs, but our relationships that truly matter. This is my story as a recovering workaholic.

I had a scientific colleague many years ago who told me "A bad day of vacation is better than a good day at work." I remember thinking to myself at the time that this guy would never survive in science if this is what he really believed. It struck me as the attitude of someone who, channeling famed test pilot Chuck Yeager, did not have the right stuff. To be successful in science takes a special kind of dedication. I have not met too many through the years who have been successful working simply 9 to 5. This is not the kind of vocation where you can compete and be successful without special effort. My negative opinion of this person was only strengthened when he eventually washed out as a scientist and could not get a job in his field. When he ended up working on restoring antique furniture, I remember chortling smugly to myself, feeling oh so superior.

As the years have gone by, I have seen person after person wash out of this field when they were not willing to dedicate themselves completely to their work. Without a deep and burning passion, there just never seems to be success or advancement. This is a career path where one really has to be self-motivated and fully committed to survive. Work has to be more than simply a means to a paycheck, it has to be a driving force in one's life.

(Part 1 of 3)

WWaNPD?

I don't have all that many friends in my life. I would even say that I don't have any close friends. These are the folks that you hang around with in your leisure time and talk to regularly. My lack of close friends is closely connected with the fact that I have always had difficulty opening up, with letting folks get too close to me (see Life as Nature II). Whenever I talk to others in a social setting, I immediately feel very self-conscious, out of place, exposed, and uncomfortable. Where do I put my hands? Where do I focus my eyes? When is it my turn to talk? What do I do if there is an awkward pause? It seems so foolish, at my age, to not have any social skills. It is an ongoing source of frustration for me. Far too many times it has caused me to have panic attacks that have led me to avoid connecting with others. Better to stay hidden in my fortress of solitude than to risk the anxiety that being around others causes me.

The other night I got a call from the leader of my church small group. She asked me a personal question regarding my preferences about a social gathering that she was organizing. As her question hung in the air, still echoing in my ears, the world around me abruptly shuddered into slow motion. While she was waiting for an answer, I thought to myself "What would a normal person do?". This kind of scene plays out on a regular basis in my daily life.

Part of my issue is putting myself in the shoes of other people and really understanding their point of view. Call it lack of empathy, lack of a developed imagination, lack of deep cerebral cortex functionality. Call it part of me that has proven very difficult to understand or change. "What would a normal person do?. When I was younger, I viewed my distance from others as a strength. I felt that I was superior. The fact that I did not think or act like those around me was proof. Now that I am older, I have come to realize that my continued distance from others is a sign that something is wrong with me. This defect can be crippling at times. How I long to be more like the others, to share their laughter and their deep connections. How I long to be more normal ...

Things To Talk About

Mister Rogers' Neighborhood ran on PBS from 1967 to 2001. I would guess that most people know who Fred Rogers was and can even tell you a thing or two about the show he produced. Perhaps a character they remember or one of the puppets or the little red trolley. I remember watching Mister Rogers on PBS when I was a kid in the 1970s and I remember watching him a few times with my little one when she was just a toddler. To me this show was always a bit dour, a bit old fashioned and corny, and perhaps a bit too black and white in a color world. However, given my long history with the show, it holds a special place in my heart. It causes me to look back and reflect.

You may remember the song that Mister Rogers sang at the end of every show as he changed from his sneakers to his loafers and took off his sweater and put on his sports jacket. Part of the lyrics went:

And I'll be back when the day is new
And I'll have more ideas for you
And you'll have things you'll want to talk about
I will too

These words ran through my mind the other day after I picked up my young daughter from school. We had not seen each other for a few days. We were both excited to see each other and as we usually do when we come back together, we try to make up for lost time by catching up on the news and highlights and funny happenings in our lives since we were last together. She has things she'll want to talk about, I will too. Thanks Mister Rogers.

Out of the Blue

The other night I was channel surfing and saw a comedian on Comedy Central named Katt Williams. His routine was so laced with expletives, you ended up hearing more bleeps from the censor than actual words. Every joke seemed to be about drugs or sex or how bad white people are. What first stood out to me was how unfunny, unclever, unoriginal, and stereotypical this man was. Now, I don't know too much about this person, and I have certainly seen plenty of other comics on television to which I have developed similar opinions. There was nothing special about Mr. Williams in this regard. However, the second thing that I noticed was how out of place this whole scene was. Mr. Williams was dressed in a very expensive suit, walking around on a very big stage in a very fancy auditorium, in front of a huge crowd. As they panned across the crowd from time to time, I could not help but notice how everyone seemed so well dressed, so erudite, like they put on their best for an evening at the opera. The crowd seemed to eat up everything Mr. Williams spewed. They were laughing so hard that more than one person had tears running down their faces. I guess what I was so surprised by was how mainstream foul language, bad taste, and derogatory racist diatribes have become. This wasn't Lenny Bruce in some small, smokey venue in Vegas. This was a very strongly promoted hour-long television special that came on in prime time.

I was really kind of blown away by all of this. Now I can assure you that I am no tee-totalling, uptight prude. However, I could never imagine going into public or standing in front of an audience and talking in that manner. I wonder what it says about us that this kind of television special is allowed on the air. Does this kind of "extreme" pull viewers in with its shock-inducing nature? Is this stuff funny? Is this necessary? Is this acceptable? The answers are yes, no, No, and NO!, respectively.

What You Value

Every year that my daughter Maddie and I have celebrated Easter together, just the two of us, she has had a visit from the Easter bunny. He usually hides a few candy-filled goodies around the living room for my little one to seek out. Some are placed in obvious locations, some hidden a bit more subtly. There is also always a nice big Easter basket filled with more candy, some money, a book, and, from time to time, a stuffed animal. The Easter bunny always makes sure to use my daughter's basket each year upon his visit. He then puts the basket in an oversized cellophane bag that is adorned with pretty flowers and egg shapes, and ties it up with a blue ribbon on which hangs a cardboard picture of himself looking his Easter best. After finding her eggs, Maddie always excitedly (but carefully) opens her basket and goes through everything. She then carefully folds up the cellophane bag and places the ribbon and bunny picture on top. That way they are ready for Mr. Bunny's next visit.

The other day, Maddie and I were walking out of Target after doing a bit of shopping. On the ground by the exit, she spied a cardboard picture of the Easter bunny that looked very similar to hers. She ran over to where it lay and claimed it as if she had found a valuable treasure. She beamed as she told me what she had found and how similar it was to hers. Later in the evening, I watched as she pulled the bunny out of her pocket and traced her finger around its edge. I saw her smile again. Sometimes the little things that don't cost a thin dime or have no value to any other soul are what can touch our hearts so deeply. Sometimes it's the little things that are important and valuable. What do you value?