I’m going to reread this post in a week, a month, a year, and have such a difficult time loving the voice I have now.
But I want to remember my first time having a 60+ hour workweek, and how I leaned into it – like I tell my Zoom kids to do all the time. How I was so upset about feeling slighted from my group that I couldn’t sleep. How my now-partner texted me at 4:35 AM, “How can I help?” and followed up with, “I’ll take a shower and head over.” How we stole a morning from 5-7:30 AM, our first morning spent together, before she had to leave to manage her own business. How I made a shake with the coffee she’d brought for me, now cold, and pushed through to get my work done with my team – a process which took until 8 PM. How I’d forgotten to eat, something my addicted-to-food self never normally does. How grateful I was for space and support from her. The determination to continue getting my shit together so I can stop struggling to manage two programs and simply just manage them.
I want to remember this taste of how I used to be in my childhood, someone who was so invested in getting the work done, who found meaning and interest in the steadiness of my homework, and who spent the next fifteen years hoping to find that again.
For the first time in years, I remember how much I love leaning in.
60+ hour workweeks are rough, until what you want to accomplish out of it is worth more than the monotony of a 9-5 daily schedule, even on your off-days.
Long live the workweeks that blossom from determination and love.