It’s 10:00 at night and I’m still thinking about work. Thinking about what I should change in an article, or what I should have done in pervious articles.
My husband and I are sitting in the same room together, but I’m not really there. I’m half-a-mile away and it’s been like this for months.
I’ve done this with every job. I can’t leave work at work—I’ve never known how.
I love working hard—to feel my brain pulse with energy as I try to absorb as much information as humanly possible in a day.
I thought this made me better, that it made me different, but that’s not true at all.
How many of us are like this? You work until you physically, mentally, cannot work any longer? You think that this is just what your supposed to do, it’s what you have to do to succeed, right?