i have a lot more time to write on my blog. thank goodness! for the record, that “goodness” comes with a hint of sarcasm.

let’s talk about what it means to “work to live” and it’s counter “live to work”. to me, an authority on living and breathing, working to live means that you wake up everyday at an unnatural hour, shower, put on clothes that say, “i’m the man”, scrape the snow off your car, and commute half an hour to a place that pays you to provide some service they’ve deemed valuable. once you get paid, you use the money to improve your life. improvement is relative. it could be buying a house, taking a vacation, buying new boots, eating at a semi-fancy restaurant, growing your music library, etc., etc., etc.

this doesn’t sound that odd. it actually sounds like most people’s lives. here’s where the distinction lies: you don’t fancy waking up at 6am. you don’t always feel like showering. your “i’m the man” clothes are not comfortable. if you had a genie, you’d wish for a trillion dollars (legally. no “monkey paw” type curses here), and you’d live your life in all the same ways you did, but minus the whole job part. you’re working to live the life you want.

now, let’s look at living to work. you wake up everyday at an unnatural hour, shower, get dressed, etc, etc. same schpeel. the distinction: you wake up eager to kick ass at your job. you dress for the job you want. not only do you take a great deal of pride in your work, but your work also helps define you. (“I am the assistant manager”). you may have a house, take vacations, eat at semi-fancy restaurants. but those are just the condiments to your big mac life.

i’ve struggled to figure out which life philosophy i prescribe to. after all, you spend probably about 1/3 of your life working (not even accounting for sleep). how does that not define you? if aliens came to earth at any given moment, odds are that they will see you either sleeping or working. and, you’re going to do something, you want to do well. take some pride in it. make a difference.

that was my approach to work for a long time. for the past 9 years, i’ve lived to work. i wasn’t a workaholic. i wasn’t necessarily reaching for the stars, but work defined me. i am the supervisor, i am the associate director, i am the intern. then, something happened in my life that shook my life into a different focus.

two years ago, i had a bad string of colds and extreme cramping in my ribs. this lasted about 3 weeks before i decided to go to the doctor. they gave me the standard check up: blood pressure, blood samples, urine samples, plus some x-rays. the following day, i received an urgent call. my white blood cell count was dangerously low. my immune system was being compromised. they needed to run another battery of tests to check for cancer and immunodeficiency diseases (HIV, AIDS). in the meantime, they wanted me to rest. i was ordered to stay home from work for a week, after which, they’d follow up with more tests.

what a long-ass week. i spent much of that time looking up information about various immunodeficiency conditions, calling into work, and catching up on dvr’ed reruns of X-files. overall, it wasn’t too bad. i had been tested for HIV and AIDS before (as any sexually active adult should). i was concerned for my health, but i was also taking a step away from my desk. that part was kind of nice.

the results came in. i was not suffering from a life altering disease. i was suffering from work stress. work stress had impeded my body’s ability of fighting infection, leaving me almost completely susceptible to illness. the doctors warned that if i didn’t get a handle on work stress, work would interfere with my ability to live a healthy life.

it was a short-lived wake up call. i heard the alarm, but decided to hit snooze. i continued down a path of living to work. then, the alarm went off again.

my husband and i decided to start a family. a child that had his love for the arts and my love of action and sci-fi movies. so we started the very scientific and skillful art of baby making. and within two weeks, we were pregnant.

a new chapter in my life started. the purpose of my life was no longer to drink a bottle of wine a week, but now, it was to cultivate a human. i became responsible for someone else’s health. what a wonderful goal to wake up to every morning. i had a new purpose. a noble purpose. and a selfless purpose.

the next coming weeks were filled with hormones, cheeseburgers, and ginger ale. on top of that, i had a client in crisis (public, internal, external, the whole kit-and-kaboodle). this meant more meetings, more presentations, more client requests, more late nights, skipping meals, not seeing my husband. but, the crisis couldn’t last forever, and i was really shining. i was calm, attentive, reassuring, and knowledgeable….until i had a miscarriage.

my new purpose was gone. my new family was gone. my new life was gone before it started. my world came crumbling down around me. all the extra time, meetings, missing meals, late nights. what was it for? how can i live to work when the life i wanted [albeit, potentially] betrayed me.

that was a couple months ago. i still want a family. i want to bring back my new purpose, but now, i want so much more for my life. knowing that my body is sensitive the external stresses of work, i know what i need to do. it’s time to work to live. it’s time to set goals in my life that align with what i want my life to be. it’s about time.