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
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?
the only value we now have?
Is there anything beyond?
Poetry Prompt: construct a poem solely out of questions…?
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.
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