I awoke at 1:30 a.m. and stepped into the bathroom, determined to keep my mind clear. A minute later I lowered myself back into bed and began breathing slowly to ease myself to sleep. Despite my efforts, thoughts of work penetrated my mind. I lay still, breathing more deeply and concentrating on the word sleeeeep. Finally, after twisting till my sheets were a wad, I turned on the light. An hour had passed. I picked up a book.

I was getting plenty of exercise, eating right and drinking enough water each day. No caffeine after morning, and no eating or alcohol after 7 p.m. I was relaxing in the evening, and life seemed well balanced. Yet almost every night I fought my job for possession of my mind. Had that been the first time—or even the first time that week—I may have thought different about it, but now it was ultimatum time: either I would learn to accept sleep deprivation, or something would have to change.

I had my complaints about work. Who doesn’t? Lack of communication, unclear expectations, annoying people, team members breaking commitments, seemingly illogical management decisions. (Sound familiar?) But I had much to be thankful for, too. I was earning more than enough money—I paid off bills and debt, traveled, and accumulated savings—I had full medical, dental and retirement benefits, and my position was visible at times to the highest levels of the multinational company I worked for. Is it worth it, I asked myself, to suffer obvious signs of stress in exchange for money? Yes, I thought.

But something still needed to change.

Is it worth it? Money was the hook, but fear was the barb.

I recommitted myself to my work. I focused on being even more organized, getting and setting clearer expectations, and understanding management’s point of view. Meanwhile, the restless nights continued, and I justified them with dollars. I was saving almost half of my earnings and had just returned from a vacation halfway around the world. Is it worth it? I asked myself again. Maybe. But my efforts to make things better certainly weren’t working.

I happened across a quote from Henry David Thoreau: “For every thousand hacking at the leaves of evil, there is one striking at the root.”

When you feel physical pain or notice your body doing something unusual (like not sleeping), that pain or that unusual something is what doctors call a symptom. If you cut your finger, for example, you bleed and feel pain—two symptoms. And while symptoms are problems in themselves, they’re the “leaves” Thoreau refers to. You can dry the blood and take a couple Tylenol, but it’s not till you heal the cut—the root problem—that you stop the symptoms for good.

With that in mind, I used the sleepless nights to search for the roots, ironically, of the sleepless nights themselves. What do you want out of your job? I asked myself. The answers were pretty easy: “A raise, a promotion.” What do you need a raise or a promotion for? “I…uh…don’t need them, I guess.” I went back to the first question and, as I tried to answer it, I added a few. Why are you doing your job? What do you expect to gain from it? What are you actually contributing your skills, talents and time to, immediately and ultimately? Are you even using your best skills and talents in your job? What ever happened to that dream you’ve wanted to pursue for years?

As I thought through the answers, the reason for my restlessness was becoming apparent. Just like pain is the language your brain uses to say, “Hey, dummy, your finger is bleeding,” emotion seems to be the language your brain uses to say, “I like this” or “I really don’t like this.” Frustration, anger, uneasiness, anxiety: these are your brain saying, “Nope, that doesn’t work for me, try something else,” and it manifests and repeats its disapproval via events like stress and sleeplessness until you address the root of the problem.

But that’s hard. I’m being bought is a jagged pill to swallow. That a life can be divided into hours and the owner of that life can sell each hour to a company whose purpose means nothing to the life itself is a humbling idea. I was collecting money and benefits—being compensated, if you will—for my time, skills and talents to help make the company go. But where was it going? Did I care about its ultimate purpose and how it was fulfilling it?

Yet even with these questions on my mind I hung on. Is it worth it, money in exchange for the hours of your life, when what you’re producing isn’t meaningful to you? “Well, no,” I answered, “but for some reason I keep doing it.” Money was the hook, but fear was the barb.

These questions and realizations persisted, robbing me of sleep, and as I left for work each morning, my hazy mind soured a little more. The motivation and energy I once felt were gone, replaced by thoughts of leaving the office as early as possible each day. But doing a half-ass job didn’t sit well with me, either. I was hacking at the leaves, I realized. It was time to strike at the root.

On March 21^st, 2008, I typed an e-mail to my manager: “Please accept this as my two-week notice of resignation. My final day with the company will be April 4^th, 2008.” Before sending it, I stopped and thought of everything I was about to forfeit: salary, benefits, corporate visibility, experience, networking, paying off debt, savings. Is it worth it? Is it worth your happiness to forfeit all of this? “Yes.” I clicked Send. Did I just do the right thing?

Money can be like gravity: an attraction so strong that we’re pulled in its direction, without regard to other factors. The difference is that we can change the strength of money’s pull. To change spending habits and even overall lifestyles is tough, really tough, but it can be done—especially when there’s a reason that’s meaningful to you.

I’ve always wanted to be a professional writer. I had begun writing a book a few months before, and within three weeks of leaving the company I finished the manuscript. I’m currently searching for a literary agent. I’ve written a few songs, taken my dad to California, and spent more time with family and friends. Sure, if I were still with the company I’d have paid off more debt , and my savings account would be fuller. But my manuscript wouldn’t be done. And I’d be sleeplessly focusing my efforts on something that didn’t really matter to me.

Not everyone’s situation is the same. Most people feel that they aren’t in a financial position to just quit their job or radically alter their lifestyle. (And I’m certainly not recommending it.) But many people share the deep unhappiness that results from their lives not going in the right direction and feeling that they can’t control it. It’s a matter of determining what the right direction is for you, what’s really important to you, and taking those first steps, in spite of the fear. Is it worth it? Hell yes.

And best of all, sleep, beautiful sleep has returned in all its glory, eight hours at a time!

TrackBack URI for this entry

Comments (2)

Subscribe to this article's comment RSS feed

Show/Hide comments

Show/Hide comment form

Name

Email

Website (optional)

Comment Title (optional)

Comment

smaller | bigger

Subscribe via email (Registered users only)

Enter the displayed characters in the space below or register to avoid the characters in the future.

Add Comment