Life > Work

Work shouldn’t get in the way of life

I didn’t publish anything last Sunday. (Maybe you noticed?)

No forewarning. No purposeful break. No push to get something out regardless of what else was going on. Just … nothing.

The week prior, I woke up mid-week and found myself so fatigued that I got winded trying to get out of bed—so back to bed I went.

I cancelled most of my meetings but had too many things to do to just rest. So I grabbed my laptop and headed to the couch to quietly work away between short cat naps. Not my most productive time, but stuff got done. 🤷‍♀️

I was sick, but you know how it is—work waits for no woman. (I’ve written about this before, in Out Sick.)

And so it goes …

That’s been the story of my career. Work over pretty much everything else. I’ve always been career-oriented and ambitious. I love my work—and I derive much of my identity from it.

But the reason runs deeper than that.

I have a deeply ingrained and not altogether healthy sense of responsibility. I’ve always believed that you must do all the things you have to do before any of the things you want to do.

Now here’s the key: my “have to’s” have historically related to work, external commitments, and anything expected of me by others. Buh-bye, self-care.

In fairness, I have gotten a little better at this in recent years. But this blog is a commitment I’ve made—to myself and to you—and I take it seriously.

So why didn’t I write?

Alongside my own illness, my dog was having trouble keeping food down. On Thursday, I took him to the vet. They did blood work and gave him some medicine.

On Friday, they diagnosed him with pancreatitis. Special food, more meds. Back to the vet on Saturday morning—things were getting worse.

Saturday evening, we said goodbye to my sweet, nearly 17-year-old pup for the last time. And then I woke up early Sunday morning and flew to a conference for work.

I was a wreck.

I couldn’t write. I couldn’t bring myself to go to the two receptions that I was supposed to attend on Sunday night. All I could do was cry.

My weekend was consumed with grief. And that’s okay. More than okay, actually.

But … work?

I’ve heard for years “No one on their deathbed ever said, ‘I wish I had spent more time at work’.” I’ve even said it to others myself.

But I’ve still lost a lot of really important moments to work.

There’s so much more to life than work. There are birthdays and weddings, spring breaks and holiday concerts. Opening day at the stadium, summer concerts in the park … alongside sleepless nights, high fevers, and mental health days.

These are the real “have to’s.” Prioritize them. Prioritize your children, your significant other, and yourself. Especially yourself.

Work shouldn’t get in the way of life—not the joys, and not the sorrows.

So rest in peace, Obi (Wan Kenobi). You were my constant companion for 16 years—even at work. I will miss you.

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Bonus read: I know what you’re saying—now just isn’t a good time to [insert your need here]. Spoiler alert: It’s never a good time. Do it anyway.

It's Not A Good Time