Everyone Is Tired: Why We’re Done Romanticizing the Grind

It hit me right in the middle of a HIIT session. I came here to unwind (we all have our ways of doing that, and I guess mine is sweating under a ticking chronometer) ; but somehow I was still annoyed by a text I had just gotten.

Mind you, it’s Sunday morning, 8:40am. The sun is shining, I just had a sip of espresso, I’m on my way to the burpee chamber, and right there and then, a text following up on an article I had at the top of my list for the following day pops up on my phone.

By Cynthia Jreige

I know some people don’t overthink it. Something crosses their minds and boom — it needs to depart their conscience before it’s forgotten forever. Sadly, as the recipient of this impulse, I started spiraling into stress over how to answer, given that said article has yet to be finalized. Because yes, I took a bit of time off between Saturday afternoon and Sunday. Sue me.

I was not going to answer, because I refuse to set this as a standard. I was so taken aback (yet far from surprised) that I took it out on my impressive community of 1.2K followers and asked them if they too were receiving text messages from work outside working hours. Okay, only 32 people replied — but 31 said yes. Thirty-one! Are you telling me this is now the norm?

Since the introduction of AI, employers and/or clients expect us to debit an amount of work faster than an Airbus during takeoff, prioritizing quantity over quality and completely disregarding any form of wellbeing.

Are we glamorizing the grind? Is it voluntary? Or is it a punishment disguised under the promise of getting first to the finish line of the productivity marathon?

We shouldn’t be proudly saying that we have Zoom meetings at 1am on a Friday, or that we haven’t slept in four days because of a work project. I plead guilty to doing that more than I’d like to admit, but to my defense, I’m an entrepreneur and I’m a bit of a masochist (cf. my ways to unwind).

So there I was, putting my sneakers on, ready for the next 45 minutes of sweating my apricot electrolytes off (hopefully not). But even though it was Sunday morning and I was promised high dopamine levels, I was anxious. I was angry and I wanted to go home. It took warming up and a few good songs to forget about the world (the dopamine eventually hit later as I moonwalked my way home), but I still couldn’t help but wonder: why is my professional life overstepping on my private one so much? Who gave anyone the right? Us, collectively, as a society? Capitalism? AI and its insane fast-delivery standards? The collective of SWANA dads?

No matter who, it is time to reclaim our right to chill back.

Not for us to get to the gym or a massage appointment wanting to smash a few plates on the floor (or, you know, murder someone). Even wellness companies capitalize on our misery: supplements, retreats, lymphatic vibrating plates, rings and bracelets that tell us our recovery is awful (no shit, Sherlock). It is hard to ever feel fulfilled, accomplished, or like we’re doing anything right. To the point that if I take 30 minutes to have lunch, I feel like I’m failing people who expect answers from me. Where my colleague excels at JOMO (I’m jealous), I’m the queen of FOMO, and I always believe that being unproductive will lead to my demise.

Or… is that what the system wants me to believe?

Cover photo: Jessica Walsh