Living for the grind is a rough, lonely journey. You have to spend every moment focused on what’s ahead. Even when “ resting”, you’re plotting your next moves and updating your long-term plans. Making sure that every detail is addressed, that no flaw will reveal itself, and the result is always perfect.
The task rarely demands that level of precision, but it doesn’t matter. You have an image to uphold, high standards that must be met. Every. Single. Time. Because if you mess up, how can you ever be trusted again?
Slowly, this pattern of thinking leaches into the rest of your life. And why shouldn’t it? Obviously it’s a successful strategy, and workaholism is easy to translate to a new environment. School isn’t just good grades and experience, it’s staying at the top of the class and always knowing the answer. It’s gotten you this far, stopping now would be irrational. The social club fulfills the need to demonstrate leadership and versatility. Any social aspects are just a weird quirk of the system. A good friend is always there to help, and never asks for anything in return. That would be selfish and lazy. You’re holding a template for life, so applying it should be the easiest thing in the world.
It’s not.
It’s brutal. No human can withstand a high level of stress forever. You will burn out.
But you can get “used” to the cycles of boom and bust, and they become routine. Learn how to maximize your throughput during the high; grind out every crumb of effort in the crash. Maybe it’ll even feel ordinary. When everyone else talks about their challenges, it only makes sense that they face similar struggles. They’ve just figured it out, and you need to push harder to do the same.
I was proud of how much pain I could tolerate, and still keep going.
But suddenly all the pressure, the demands for productivity, the need to always be perfect — it stops.
There never was someone checking over your shoulders for every tiny mistake. No one actually expects you to be perfect all of the time; when they said those words, they actually meant it. You can even get help, if you have the humility to ask. Schedules can be adjusted, work can be refactored, as long as you’re around. It was all your own thoughts, a warped perception of reality and self melding into a terrible monster.
In the end, no one asks for your output. They ask for you.
I’m still trying to figure out what that means for myself. I’ve spent so long trying to meet those demands that I’ve never really sat down and thought about what I’d like to do. Which of those tasks are my priorities? How much do I want to put into each one? What should I drop, and what actually inspires me?
It’s a fresh start, and I don’t even have a compass.
But the world doesn’t stop turning. I still have a job, prior obligations, all the chores and administrative errands of life. Things that need to be done. Perhaps they could be done better. A little extra time refactoring that code, a polished mirror instead of a clean one, and when people see my efforts, they’ll be so impressed—
No. I can’t fall back into my old habits. Even when I don’t know what my new ones will be.
So here I find myself. Exploring how to explore, but still meeting my commitments. Putting in quality work on those responsibilities, but not letting them consume me. And when I go to relax, actually taking that break and not dwelling on either, feeling guilty for putting them on pause.
It’s not the easiest thing in the world, but I’m trying.