In this one small area of my life, I'm turning into my dad. I'd rather try to walk to Hawaii than become my dad. He died at 54 of heart disease brought on by poor diet, no exercise, and working too much. I've beat the first two, but I don't like to gamble.
I used to think of working too much as a man thing--pressure to succeed and all that crap. Now I think it's more about the ego's need to stay busy so that there is no time to dismantle it. And like a good little drone, I go where my ego tells me to go.
I also think my ego believes that working hard, making money, receiving recognition as a good employee/trainer/person, and whatever else comes with success will make it stronger, happier, more indestructible.
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Unfortunately, that voice is a bit higher up the developmental ladder, and its perks don't compare well with the toys that ego wants and can get by working more hours. The choice is simple: more balance and more sanity, or more money and a new car/training seminar/vacation, and so on. I'm making a Red/Orange choice here, rather than the healthier Green/Yellow option.
Okay, admitting I have a problem is the first step.
[Image: Broken Ego]
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