I remember an ordinary day when I felt as though my batteries were dead. There had been no major crisis or argument. I had simply reached the end of the day with very little left for anyone, and that had started to feel normal.
For a long time, I treated exhaustion as evidence that I was building something important. If I was unavailable, I told myself people depended on me. If I had no energy for my family, I told myself I had spent it on my responsibilities.
That explanation left out the people paying for my choices. Rest, food and family were available, yet I still felt drained in a way that sleep was not resolving. I needed to look at how I was spending my attention as well as the hours I was working.
I had been using work to measure whether I was a responsible person. Being needed had become easier for me to recognize than being connected. I wrote about one consequence in “Please leave the room, Sanjog,” when I returned from a business trip and went straight into another call instead of spending time with my family.
What I began to notice were the small reactions I had been explaining away. I became impatient. Things that should have mattered left me feeling numb. I resented people for asking for attention I had already promised to give them.
I still get this wrong. I need to take care of my health and get enough rest. I also need to stop congratulating myself for having nothing left to give.
Look at one choice you keep making about your time. What are you protecting by making it, and who keeps being asked to wait? The answer may tell you something the length of your working day cannot.