Unhooking From the Last Acceptable Addiction

As my son closes out his first season of work — of being a cashier at our neighborhood Ace Hardware — I reflect upon my personal journey with work. I have always been obsessed with work. Well, except my first job at Homecourt Pizza when, at 14, my forgetfulness resulted in missed days and a gently requested resignation. And of course Barn Dance required a food poisoning performance at my bank-teller job, resulting in a more forceful requested resignation, otherwise known as being fired.

But somewhere along the way I grew up. 

Like my son, I come from privilege. Yet, like my son, the act of work was an unsaid expectation within our family. This summer, my son worked for the ultimate purpose of buying a car. But since I already had the car as a teenager, I didn’t know what I was working for. No one asked me to skip spring break partying for a job at Macy’s, or to pull off the road at the first “Hiring Now” sign as I drove home for summer break.

Perhaps the human instinct to be part of a larger wheel, no matter how insignificant my cog, lives strong within me. I believe work fulfills a deep-rooted human purpose to give while receiving, and to survive by participating within a larger group purpose.

Our Working Ways Are Written in the Stars

In astrology terms, I am a Scorpio, and my horoscopes are replete with notations of work. Or possibly I just have a head full of work, therefore I can see it in everything, including my star-sign. However, it would make sense that Scorpios are driven by work because I see how my mother and husband, who are Cancers, are. Astrology says that Cancers are driven by making a comfortable home — whether that be cooking, decorating, driving the kids to all ends of the Earth and more. This is truly where my mother finds her purpose. 

However, cultural gender roles have tried hard not to allow my husband to align his purpose with the home. Yet, I believe that “home” is simply a word that evokes a feeling that can also be found in work. Things can run more smoothly, the team can be fulfilled, a workplace can be shinier, whether in the mind or within the four walls of a workplace. This is the type of servant leadership that my husband embodies. He likely wakes up thinking of how he can serve others. Whether that is to immediately walk the wiggly dog, offer luck before the team’s presentation, or prep a child for the orthodontist. Oh, the Cancer in him.

Battling My Work-Addicted Tendencies

I, on the other hand, have woken up for years from that self-absorbed place, which I offset through work. My ADHD has been described as if I am driven by a motor. On the weekends, there is no better illustration of my drive than to see me rushing to and fro, as if an inhumane mechanical device controls my every move and I absolutely cannot stop until I collapse. 

If my entire worth is caught up in work, I have a problem. 

During the workweek, I am a little bit like this, rising with a self-imposed to-do list. Literally feeling a sense of calm when I open my laptop, the matte, smooth surface of the thin MacBook Pro satisfying the palm of my hand. I am prey to Apple’s likely aim of creating a process-addiction in their users. Like the promise the gambler feels from the worn felt of a gaming table, or the crinkle of the thin plastic sleeve the smoker wrestles with on a cigarette pack. 

Ok. Wait. Now I sound really work-addicted. And it’s really not that bad. It’s never gotten in the way of my life — at least on the surface. I haven’t missed important dates for my kids, I end work at a reasonable time — all the things one would say about why they aren’t addicted to something.

However, my head is another story. Waking up thinking about work, likely dreaming about work, feeling calm at just opening the computer — it all speaks to emotional dependence upon work. But, my hardest emotional issue surrounding work is when my worth sneaks in. If my entire worth is caught up in work, I have a problem. 

And that is where I’ve lived for most of my adult life. But I’ve learned how to pay attention to my reptilian mind, eventually catching the slippery worky thoughts, laying them out for dissection. Over the years, with more recovery, I have re-directed these thoughts. And sometimes, within the quiet of meditation, there are no thoughts at all. With practice, this no-thought place sometimes offers itself to me in front of the computer screen and I can view work annoyances like a Buddhist, without attaching an opinion.

Letting Go

I’ve been given a new purpose and direction, which is about simply living, and not attaching myself to anything, whether that be work or home. This may possibly be why finally I am okay with not all of our family resources going toward my self-absorbed obsession with work — and in so doing, my husband may choose to offer his selfless tendencies elsewhere. That's not to say that I wouldn’t tap my daughter’s eye for art design or my son’s militant habits for account organization. There is always room for growth.