I worked seventy hours last week! Working myself silly, working myself blind, working myself brain dead. I don’t mind the extra scratch, but I reach a limit. I like to be able to have some time to myself. But...it’s always crisis mode...at every job I ever worked... I feel like such a sucker sometimes. Sometimes I think I like looking like the hard working martyr.
I’ll take the extra hours and money, but it really messes with my head on a deeper level than I realize. Like when I’m driving home at night - my eyes don’t really work very well. Or my brain. I start freakin out, wondering if I’m in the correct lane ...did I got on the right side of that median? The headlights are sooooo bright too!
I don't have a single worthwhile thing to say. I started a new book called The Sociopath Next Door, by Martha Stout, PH.D. About 4 percent of the population falls into this category - sociopath - no conscience, no guilt.