The Example That Shaped Me
I grew up in a house with a workaholic father.
My dad worked over 120 hours a week — relentlessly. That was normal. That was expected. That was how responsibility looked to me growing up.
So when I became an adult, I did the same.
For nearly seventeen years, I worked a steady 112 hours a week. I didn't question it. I didn't resist it. I assumed this was simply what a good provider did.
Work wasn't a choice.
It was identity.
The Difference No One Talks About
There's an important difference between my father's work and mine.
My dad did physical labor.
He came home exhausted in a way people could see and respect.
He also made a living.
My work, on the other hand, happened mostly behind a screen. Long hours. Mental exhaustion. Little visible output to outsiders. And despite the time invested, I often struggled to make anything at all.
To many people, what I do doesn't even register as "real work."
That disconnect created a quiet shame — working endlessly while still being perceived as unproductive.
When Hard Work Stops Making Sense
Working that much took something from me.
Not immediately.
Not all at once.
But slowly.
It took time away from my children.
It stole moments I'll never get back.
It trained me to measure my worth by output instead of presence.
And one day, I realized something that stopped me cold:
Even if I succeeded, I would still be losing.
The Version of Me I'm Actively Resisting
The version of myself I'm trying not to become again is the man who equates exhaustion with virtue.
The man who believes rest must be earned.
The man who chooses productivity over presence.
The man who justifies absence by calling it sacrifice.
I don't want my children to remember me as someone who was always working — regardless of whether that work ever paid off.
Choosing Balance Over Validation
I like my life better now.
Not because it's easier.
Not because it's more impressive.
But because it's more human.
I spend time with my children.
I hear them.
I'm available.
And while the world may still question whether what I do "counts," I've stopped letting that decide how I live.
Work-life balance isn't laziness.
It's intention.
Redefining Success Before It Redefines Me
Success no longer means repeating what I was shown.
It means breaking the pattern.
Whether I succeed financially or not, I refuse to become a workaholic again. I refuse to let ambition cost me the very people I'm working for.
I don't need to prove I can survive exhaustion.
I already did.
Now, I'm choosing a life that allows me to stay.
"The Lord does not look at the things people look at. People look at the outward appearance, but the Lord looks at the heart." — 1 Samuel 16:7