Work is my drug and praise is my dealer

Unlike drug dealers that look nasty and like criminals most times, the enablers of workaholism look like supportive co-workers, slapping us on the back and congratulating us for a job well done – ready to throw it on our to do list forever even if we were only trying to help once, colleagues and bosses who just take your energy and use it without stopping to actually look into your eyes and see your struggle, risen eyebrows that, when you finally decide to say “I can’t do this anymore!”, throw you into the desperation of having to live with the idea that you have disappointed everyone by saying no.

from the shadows

Sometimes I write these posts to share ideas I would like others to ponder as well. Other times … things just come out of me. Like this morning. Apologies to my few but loyal readers. Sometimes it is easier to share here … than to actually find words that have to pass from my brain to my voice.

The chase

When I was told for the first time that this is a marathon and not a sprint, I was happy. I thought it meant this is an effort you can pace for yourself where you can grab water in the in-betweens, breathe, actually sometimes even enjoy the scenery or the run. The reality is … this is a marathon of sprints.

love is an operation, not a word.

It has become quite a habit these days that many use the word love as many times as possible trying to forge connection to an audience, they family, their friends. So many times we are tricked into thinking that love is these grand gestures, spending lots of money for a gift, recognition on social media, for others to see and like or envy, compromising until resent sets in. Nothing can be further from the truth.

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