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I landed my first job when I was just a few weeks shy of nine. I spent my summer picking berries at a local farm, waking up with the sun, biking a mile down the road, and working tirelessly until the day was done. For every pint of raspberries I picked, I earned 25 cents, allowing me to make over $200 that summer—enough to buy a ton of school clothes.
My boss and parents praised me for bringing my peanut butter and jelly sandwich along, eating it in a flash, and then diving right back into work. That validation felt empowering; it made me believe I had some special ability. I would brave pouring rain or sweltering heat while other kids opted to go home, and I earned a three-dollar bonus for each time I stuck it out. The encouragement from adults in my life reinforced my identity as a hard worker, so I couldn’t picture being anything else.
Throughout elementary school, I kept at it—picking berries in the summer and babysitting whenever I got the chance. In high school, while others enjoyed practices or social events, I bagged groceries after class. My routine involved waking up for school, working six days a week, and then tackling homework. On Saturdays, when friends were off, I pushed grocery carts and loaded them into customers’ cars from early morning until late afternoon. The accolades kept pouring in, and I didn’t mind the exhaustion.
After having my appendix removed in 11th grade, I returned to work within a week, driven by an unspoken expectation. I didn’t want to let anyone down or risk losing my hard-working reputation. Graduating college in the early ’90s, I quickly found that my upbringing had prepared me perfectly for the workforce. I worked in retail and soon became the youngest store manager in my district for a well-known clothing brand—all because I clocked in long hours, never called in sick, and went the extra mile without expecting compensation.
During a busy holiday season, I kept my team late to tidy up the store, despite needing to be back early the next day. As they began to tire, my frustration grew. We would change the store layout overnight, and I demonstrated my dedication by eating pizza quickly to set an example. Yet, my body was paying the price; I developed stomach issues and became reliant on caffeine just to keep going. But I was recognized for my hard work, and I clung to that validation.
The same work ethic followed me into my next job at a recruiting firm, where we were expected to work over 40 hours a week with minimal time off. Team-building activities were framed as optional, but it was clear that participating was not a choice. The message was loud and clear: you needed to be fully devoted to work or risk being labeled lazy.
After the tragic events of 9/11, I took a day off to gather my thoughts while most of my coworkers stayed behind. My boss made disparaging comments about my decision afterward. Later, when I expressed my desire to start a family, I was let go, despite the company offering no paid maternity leave.
When I finally decided to launch my own business, I faced skepticism. People wondered how I would manage financially, reminding me that a stable paycheck was crucial. I grew up in an environment where taking time off for illness or mental health was frowned upon. Showing up to work sick was seen as commendable, while those who prioritized self-care were often disregarded.
Returning to work after taking time off to care for my kids, I still operated in that same mindset, working daily and neglecting personal commitments. Eventually, I hit a wall; my performance suffered, and I was utterly drained. I realized that my belief in the need to work harder and longer was counterproductive.
Gradually, I recognized the importance of rest and recharging. The idea of taking a vacation made me anxious, fearing that it would label me a slacker—how twisted is that? I want my kids to understand that hard work doesn’t mean sacrificing their well-being. Life encompasses more than just the grind, and there’s no merit in pushing through illness or neglecting deserved time off.
For the sake of future generations, we must shift the narrative that equates overwork with success. We need to embrace the value of downtime, prioritize mental and physical health, and redefine what it means to thrive in both work and life. I wish I had realized this sooner, but now I’m committed to setting a healthier example for my children, steering clear of the workaholic trap that ensnared me for too long.
For more insights on family planning and parenting, check out this other blog post. If you’re looking for information on fertility, Make A Mom is an authority in this field. Additionally, Resolve.org provides excellent resources for pregnancy and home insemination.
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