Regrets of an ex-workaholic

Up until Mum died, I was always a bit of a workaholic – whether in study, as a journalist, an activist or a school teacher. A desire to do a good job and throw myself into something I am passionate about has always been of great importance to me.

But what I didn’t realise until AO-Day (Adult Orphan Day) is that whilst dedication to a cause is admirable and gives our lives purpose, it shouldn’t equate to sacrificing other important areas of our personal lives (i.e. people).

It was only when I lost my mum that I visualised every conversation I had forfeited in favour of marking my pupils' books. Or dinner I took to my room so I could finish that article. Or the extra finishing touch to something that took priority over a stroll into town together. It didn’t take long to slip into a dark place of profound regret over every time I chose to work over spending quality time with her.

Don’t get me wrong, we spent many wonderful times chatting deep into the evening, and being an only child in a single parent family, ‘family time’ meant ‘us two time’. But the crashing, gut-wrenching realisation I experienced after she died – that feeling that I could never, ever get back those lost times – is something I wouldn't wish on anyone. Those cosy moments were gone, up in a puff of smoke. And yet I know we all experience it. Regret is, as we know, one of the fluid stages of grief.

Regret is ok. It is natural, normal and important to acknowledge. But then move on. Don't ruminate for years and years upon it.

It's vital that we don't torture ourselves long past a passing, but conversely why not learn something from bad experiences and pass them on? Here are the Words of Wisdom I have to pass on to those who have yet to lose:

There is nothing more important in life than your loved ones.

Work, a cause or your study are utterly important too, this is obvious. Achieving and going far in life, accumulating knowledge, wealth and worthiness, and helping to sustain life on this planet are given rights we all should take advantage of, if possible. Plus, our parents want nothing but the best for us.

I can hear my mum now telling me, ‘It’s ok, I would never want you to sacrifice these things for me.’

But, as always, I will be honest with you:

When all is said and done, I absolutely could have balanced my life waaaaay better had I known what was around the corner.

Sure, work hard. If I hadn’t, I wouldn’t have the job I have now, which I absolutely love. Everything I have ever done has led to this point now. And what I have now is a career in an area I am passionate about. But gone are the 50-hour weeks, and in their place a healthy 9-5.

But my mum, and other loved ones in my life back then, deserved more time than I gave them. And I live in regret because of this. I do so, because I knew at the time that it felt wrong, my gut, heart and head all told me, but I blindly drove on. And that's wherein the problem lies.

Conversely, I appreciate that we shouldn’t live and breathe regret. Beyond the initial learning that we get from feeling regret, it serves no purpose to keep revisiting it. Rumination is a killer. But let’s use it as a learning point for you, my readers.

Look at your life, and see if there are any areas which you can shave off some ‘work’ time. Then pass a small slice back to your parent, your wife, your son, your best friend.

You won’t regret it.

!!Update!!

Interestingly, after I posted this blog entry, I mused upon my recent attempt at balancing my ‘gym life’ with my social life, and discovered to my humour or horror, that I’ve just transferred 'workaholic' to 'workoutaholic' (not that you can tell).

Old habits die hard? We are who we are? More pondering is clearly required, and that is the grief journey – it meanders philosophically, one step forward, two steps back. And that's ok.

1) Recognise it

2) Acknowledge it

3) Write and talk about it

4) Learn from it

5) Park it

6) Repeat