A Note to Self

At some point, working crazy hours became my normal. Emails at midnight? Expected. A packed schedule with zero room to breathe? Just another Tuesday. Lunch? What is lunch? Dinner? String cheese while copyediting. And even though I live in one of the most breathtaking places on earth, I can’t remember the last time I actually stepped outside just to enjoy it.

But after this week, spending time in Vegas at a fundraiser for the Cleveland Clinic’s Lou Ruvo Brain Health Center, I can’t shake the thought: something has to change.

The research is sobering. The Cleveland Clinic says working more than 55 hours a week significantly increases the risk of heart disease, stroke, anxiety, and depression: basically, all the things I don’t have time for. And yet, I keep pushing. Like many of us do.

So here’s my new goal: 55 hours and I’m out. A literal timer to remind me that work can wait, but a healthy life cannot. Because what’s the point of hustling if I burn out before I can enjoy it? Who knows, with enough discipline, maybe I’ll eventually get my hours down to 40—wouldn’t that be something? Haha! 

I miss old hobbies, but I don’t even have time to consider how to bring them back. I miss fresh air, deep breaths, and days that don’t revolve around my inbox. Maybe this is your reminder, too. Where can you draw the line? Where should you? Set the boundary. Hold it. Because work will always be there. Your well-being won’t wait.