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Work isn’t to be endured in order to reach the weekend, but to be appreciated as something that creates challenges and carries the possibility of feeling really damn good about what I produce.Feeling steadily content — whether it’s Monday or Friday — is something I didn’t know I would be so incredibly grateful for. I hated how it would creep at a mind-numbingly slow place between the hours of 1 pm and 4 pm.Monday through Friday, between the hours of 7 am and 4 pm, I felt completely dead inside.Suddenly, staying put for health insurance and a steady paycheck seemed like an entirely uneven exchange. I frantically texted the most trusted members of my inner circle, divulging my plan before I could grasp what a hugely challenging endeavor I had just committed myself to.Now, my mind has deconstructed the brick barriers that separated my work life from my personal life.Sundays morph into Mondays with nearly as much ease as Fridays into Saturdays.I didn’t have another job lined up or even a position I hoped I might be qualified for.I simply had an unavoidable need for freedom and a few freelance writing gigs with potential.
After all, it was my compensation for turning over precious brainpower and the most substantial chunk of my waking hours.
I hated how I had to request it, routinely counting how long it would take me to amass X amount of vacation days.
I hated how weekends never contained enough time to make a dent in household tasks while still having fun.
Then, as I dove deeper into establishing a life based on enjoyment rather than obligation, something strange happened: Money didn’t matter as much.
What was once a mindset of, “I better be getting paid to do this” turned into, “I’m so lucky I get paid to do this.” That was an amazing thing.