Member-only story
My relationship with work has been anything but good.
In high school, I learned that if I worked hard, I could do please those around me. If I worked hard, I could achieve my dreams.
And so I did.
I recall scheduling every minute of my day on my google calendar. I was only 16.
Here’s an image of my week — perfectly optimized. You may wonder what these “work” blocks mean. While I can’t completely remember, I think it roughly approximated to the following things:
- School work
- Studying for my AP tests
- Studying for a neuroscience competition I was planning to enter at the end of COVID
- Studying for the SAT
- Working on a club that I led
- Researching and writing for my blog
Every moment was scheduled. And while the above screenshot doesn’t show the weekends, don’t worry: I was still “working” over 7 hours a day both Saturday and Sunday.
Work was my escape. It was going to be the thing that got me out of my small town in Massachusetts and out into the real world. When I…
