In my first salaried job, whenever I got tired, there were two coordinators who always told me that sleep was for the weak. "You can sleep when you die!" they preached, and when I thought of the thousands of participants who counted on our efforts, I would buckle down and power through.
In my second salaried job, everything was about balance. Family - work - self. Balance. Workshops, courses, mantras were all centred on finding the right balance, and how balance was the key to achieving our dreams. Life is a marathon, and you have to learn to pace yourself.
In a short stint in a miserable environment, there were no motivational words. Neither words to keep me going when I was tired, nor words to slow me down to keep me from burning out.
Each day was neither busy, nor slow; neither interesting nor boring. I stopped learning, and growing. I stopped thinking, and feeling. I stopped being passionate. I stopped being me. The position was neither fulfilling nor worthwhile. Monetary gains could not make up for the personal losses.
I was in DC this past weekend, and I had dinner with a friend that I had made on my trip there the weekend prior. I told him that after two weekends in the DC area, I didn't ever want to leave. I admitted that the only reason that I may have felt this way was because I was running from everything back home.
My friend told me that it's running when it's irresponsible. Maybe you're running to something, he said. Maybe. Maybe you found something you've been looking for, something you've needed but never knew you did.
Maybe, just maybe, he was right.