I would often wonder how close I was to being as good as dead. I’d wake up in the morning, check the time, see how early it is, sleep again, wake up again, get up and take a shower, check the time again, and realize, sh-t, I’m late again.
In the office, I would browse my mails, do what needs to be done, talk with people, argue with people, reschedule what needs to be rescheduled, review my pending-items list, rush some more, and then see the clock on my PC: It’s 6 p.m. again—the end of the day.
The cycle would continue to finally meet Friday (the end of the week!) and before I’d know it, I’d be facing Monday sickness for the nth time. Zzzz, crappy life.
You may be wondering, what exactly is the problem then? I have work, I receive my pay slips on time, I receive my bonus like everyone else, blessings seem to be everywhere… What is wrong?
Okay, nothing. Except that everything had become mechanical. I had become mechanical—like a machine that functions on a tick-tock and a per-order basis. Nothing seemed to excite me anymore, or if something would, the excitement would fade before I’d even get to finish the task. And then I’d go back to just moving and getting along.
Was it worrying me? you may ask. Of course! I wouldn’t be thinking about it if it wasn’t. But most of the time, I would forget—meaning I’d end up doing nothing about it but just thinking about it. Now, does that make sense?
Believe me, yes. Because when we think too much and analyze our situation, and then come up with a root cause for that situation, there will only be two ways to go: Either we move on taking action, or move on accepting our reason for not taking action right away. Now these are two different choices, which result in two different paths, which, for all we know, may just connect to draw an imaginary hypotenuse highlighting the big gap in between. That’s how it is.
And that was how I existed to that point.
The conclusion was that I was not into what I was doing. To a big extent, I was half-hearted. I felt limited. It seemed that all efforts to contribute were futile, that nothing would ever get done, that in the end things just wouldn’t matter: Every day simply seemed purposeless.
So I opted for the second path. It wasn’t actually nice, but it wasn’t that bad either. Until I came across some lines by John Maxwell as I was checking my Facebook account. It read:
“It scares me when most people I see, by age 28, are retired. Retired from working with passion, that is. Leaders always try to excel in the things they are passionate about. To be a difference-maker, you have to bring passion, commitment, and caring to your career. Passion gives you the energy advantage over others.”
The words flashed through my mind and confirmed my thoughts: It was a eureka moment. Passion! Whatever happened to mine? And God, at that point I was not even at that age yet! I was too young to feel such retirement. But it was happening, and it was taking its toll on my career that fast. I knew I needed to act immediately before I ended up losing everything I had earned. The question was: How?
I am still figuring it out. But in the process, I have been relearning and realigning my life, regardless of so many “regardless” that may come along the way.
So first, I realized: We are breathing organisms groping for air in order to live, and for space in order to grow.
What happens when we deny a plant the source of its life? It starts to die. Cut its roots, limit it, and it withers. Similarly, a person prevented from doing what he/she likes, from exploring his/her potential, will eventually find his/her way blending into the ordinary crowd. I call it death through minimal resistance. I have witnessed this over time, with few people, and it has been quite frustrating. But although it hasn’t been easy resurrecting a dead man, it could be done. Patience, somehow, is still a virtue.
This brings me to realization No. 2: Having and keeping a job is like maintaining a relationship. We have to keep the romance alive.
Before we die, before going with the flow, I’m saying: Resist it. Be wary of indications that may tie us to our grave. If, for example, we do not like an aspect of our work, and we have no control over it, then maybe we can change the way we see it. Check for a different angle, or divert our attention to something more productive. Find out what else tickles us; pivot in this direction. Do what it takes to keep us from just going through that motion of push and pull. Remember: The everyday, small-step struggle is easier to win than a bigger, consolidated fight. I have learned that at my own expense, and obviously, I haven’t gotten out of the yard yet.
In finale, this third thought nags my head the worst: We cannot fool ourselves.
We know what we need, and what we want. We may not have voiced it clearly enough, but still, that desire is lurking deep within the core of our beings. If what we want to do matches not with what is required of us, and there is no way to reconcile, and lapses at work are becoming regular, then maybe it’s time to find the space that’s truly meant for us. As I have said in a community site, follow our heart where it leads us, but use our mind to guide us. When it comes to happiness, peace of mind, and living life at its full, all risks to be taken are worth every shot.
In light of these, I sleep at night hoping for the best: May we always find fuel to keep our fires burning.
Maria Cristina dM. Sario, 29, is a chemical engineer.