In a former life I was a workaholic. I still have workaholic tendencies, but I try to keep it in check. I am not sure I am all that successful at keeping balance, but I try.
I used to work for a company in Seattle that I loved. I lived it, breathed it and every moment was spent either actively working or thinking about work. I was going to be promoted and eventually be elected Queen of the World - it was all fitting nicely into my Master Plan. I gave them all of my energy and attention - to the detriment of all else - for a year.
Then I was fired.
I got fired because I "couldn't effectively communicate with a co-worker" and to avoid delving into deep, dark territory from wence I managed to crawl once I am going to leave it at that. Let's just say it was really crappy and if I had more energy and less dignity I might have done something about it.
That one day sent my life into a tailspin. I didn't understand how one person could so completely derail not just my career, but my life. I have spent every day since then trying to convince myself that I am not a loser, that I do have talent and that I am not going to walk into my office on some random day and be fired because my shoes squeak. I also moved to another state and built an entirely new life because my old one got blasted to smithereens and staying in Seattle was a psychological impossibility.
Since then I had some really great contract gigs and one great job opportunity come my way. I gained some wonderful experience that led me to my current job. I am now an HR and Recruiting Manager for a small firm that is eerily similar to that "other" job I mentioned.
I love my job. I love the partners of the company. I trust that the company is ethical. The problem is that I suffer from a little ailment I lovingly refer to as "isuckitis." I walk into work every day and wonder if today is the day I am going to be sent packing. I work my tail off. I put in 12 hour days. I work from home at night. I have absolutely no indication that anything is wrong. I regularly get kudos for my work, yet I still have this little voice in the back of my head that says it is all going to come crashing down at any moment.
Is it a subconscious way to make myself work harder? Am I a closet sadomasochist? Do I like self-flagellation? Is it a control thing in some bizarre way? I haven't quite figured it out, but you can bet I will sit around and beat myself up trying.
It all just makes me wonder why some of us kill ourselves chasing perfection. Even as I do it I question my motives. Who am I trying to impress?
Why is it that I think I need to prove something, what am I trying to prove and for that matter who am I trying to prove it to? My son doesn't care what my title is - he just wants me to lay on the floor and do a puzzle with him. My husband doesn't care how big my office is - he just wants me to tell him I love him every night. My friends don't care how many deals I closed last week - they just want me to laugh with them over coffee.
So, I ask for what has to be the 973rd time:
How can I cure this? How do I mute that voice and move on from the "episode" and just do the work happily and with gusto instead of expending an inordinate amount of energy waiting for the proverbial pink slip?
Thoughts?
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