Why Do We Work Ourselves To Death?
Why are we doing this to ourselves? (a poem)
Why do we work ourselves to death?
Why do we wake up and think about all the chores we have to do the tasks we have to tick off for work?
Why do we compete with others thinking that everyone solidly completes 80h of week, 52 weeks a year?
Why do I feel a pang of guilt after accidentally opening up my email at 8pm, seeing how many people have replied past 5pm?
Why do you advocate for self-care and then display and model the opposite?
How could you create a presentation on why we need self-care and subtly make a joke about losing sleep and pounds of weight over completing this presentation?
Why do we talk and talk and talk about supporting self-care but never see anyone doing it?
Why do we promote self-care and turn around, asking for replies at 5am?
Is productivity the only value we now have? Is there anything beyond?
Poetry Prompt: construct a poem solely out of questions…?
Don’t be shy & submit it to The Brain is a Noodle! 🧠🍜
Lucy (The Eggcademic) wants to let go of defining oneself solely on productivity. Sure, she loves the great feeling of setting and achieving life goals, of getting something done, of checking something off a checklist. But fam, there’s so much more than that and relying solely on this feeling to bring us joy contributes to so much burnout. Let’s stop that.
What’s your next adventure? 🐰🐇
- 💘 a random article: 3 formatting shortcuts you need to know as a writer
- 💜 an article that deserves more love: The Time I fell for a scam — or was it a social experiment?
- 🔊 a voice I want to amplify: Let’s Play A Game of Monopoly — USA edition by Lincoln W Daniel
