A workaholic-a person who compulsively works excessively hard and long hour.

This is the definition usually is assigned to categorize a large society of people who tend to focus and dedicate their lives to work. Many-a-times the work they do is redundant which lacks passion and allows them to be complacent. While a certain percentage of people work towards their passion and strive to achieve their ambition.

A few years back I used to take pride in being called a workaholic.  As I ask myself,  What does it all mount to? – A constant effort to earn money, increase your social status and dedicate hours of your precious time which may lead achieving what that person may have dreamt of. For some people it is delivering on their responsibilities and making ends meet. For the rest it’s who they are and being busy with work is a part of their personality.

I’m a bit of both, but now I am physically and mentally exhausted. I’m 23 yrs old with increased spurts of white hair and face which looks older than I should be. My pride has done this to me. My work has consumed me enough to finally not give a fuck about being a workaholic. Chasing dreams have led me to believe that the reality is being left behind. The reality which truly already is my dream only if I could recognize it.

The struggle began with hardwork and it evolves to working smart. Spending day in and out to keep other people happy, from collegues, my girlfriend, my parents. Finally to every guy who wants to join the long list of people who I have to please inorder to not bother me and come in between my goals and aims. Like this blog post my life is scattered as well. It’s filled with all the noise and peace is a long-forgotten term. As my DNA has adopted a structure that can’t be changed or redefined. No matter how much I try. The vices keep on increase and the pressure never reduces. In my attempt to strike a balance my body ends up struggling and my health goes down the drain.

However, there is a flip side to it, there can be a relaxed lifestyle with alternative careers which allow you to make the same kind of money but don’t allow you to get a kick out of life. The battle truly is to achieve for the society wants out of you vs. what you want to achieve for yourself.

I’ve sacrificed people, relationships and my happiness. My work like for many others is this evil monster who demands to eat up everything which is not related to it and make me feel guilty about it.

Do I do something which makes a difference? Sure. My work reaches millions of people in the country, people who don’t even know who is bringing joy, smiles and creating emotions in the lives 5 out of 7 nights in a week. This is my definition, but in an attempt to bring joy I’ve let go of mine.

So I decided to start a new chapter. A person who caused great influence in my life, led the way to kickstart it and made me ask myself a new question… What give me true happiness? A question which had remained un answered that it was forgotten and blurred itself in my damaged childhood memories. So the cycle begins again, finding true happiness. A lot of failed efforts into discovering it led me to realize that finding to happiness is also being a workohlic. The confusion which is my misery and for someone like me who is not a confused should at all.

So here I am at the cross road again, a broken soul who thinks he is different but like the rest is seeking acceptance. The difference? This time only from one person and not the rest.

That person has the power to give that to me. Mankind is power hungry and always has been but how far will it go? I surrender my need of power. I surrender the need to be accepted.

So here is my version of that definition a person who compulsively works excessively hard and long hours to seek true happiness.

Being a workaholic is who I am. I accept that and now the guardian of my spirit holds the key. I can’t detach myself from it but I can start rejoicing it, and call myself a workaholic who is finally focused on gaining power on himself.


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