“Workaholism is common in abuse and trauma survivors. Workaholics do not get their drive from a healthy place within themselves, but they do not know that.”
Workaholism is elusive. A big problem with being a workaholic is that it masquerades as a hard-work ethic, which is applauded by many.
I was raised by two highly hard-working parents for whom I am grateful.
I remember being a little boy and in my father’s upholstery shop, watching my dad working on a chair. His hands transfixed me.
My father was so knowledgeable about fabrics and wooden frames that he no longer needed to think about the tensile strength and the warp and weave of whatever fabric was in his hands. His hands reacted from his reservoir of deep knowledge and muscle memory, allowing him to pull, stretch, and form the fabric perfectly on the frame as he either “spit tacks” or shot staples rapid-fire like a machine gun, affixing the fabric to the frame.
“Spitting tacks” was what upholsterers called it when they took a handful of the sharpest tacks you’ve ever seen and filled their mouths. They then took their upholsterer hammer with a magnetic end, put it to their mouth, pulled out a tack, and quickly drew down their arm while spinning the hammer around with the tack facing forward and pounded it with exceptional accuracy through the fabric.
This whole spitting tacks thing happened as a flowing action that took less than two seconds. They then repeated that dozens of times to affix the fabric to the frame. They also had to hold the fabric stretched in the proper direction with just the right amount of tension because if stretched too little, it would sag, and if pulled too tight, the fabric would wear out much faster.
When pneumatic staple guns came about, my father used those as well. All that did was make him even faster. I am not exaggerating when I tell you that as I watched him perform this magic on a chair, he worked so fast and hard that his sweat formed a puddle around the chair on the floor. I have not seen anyone working with that degree of expertise, speed, and effort since.
I learned how to work from my father. I learned the same from my mother, who not only had to manage the house and three boys but also the business and family finances, as well as be the secretary for the business, make all customer calls, and sew in the shop. My parents were workhorses.
I learned how to work by growing up in our family business. I started working in the shop at age 11 by sweeping the floor, emptying the garbage, and straightening the work areas. By 14, I was going on furniture pickups and deliveries every weekend. By 16, I was driving the van to do the pickups and deliveries, stripping furniture in the shop, and keeping the shop clean and organized.
Then, my father taught me the craft of being a Trimmer. The Upholsterer could do the trimming, as well, but only an Upholsterer had the knowledge and skill to add to the frame, the “deck,” springs, fill, and apply the fabric to the inside seat, arms, and back of a piece of furniture. A Trimmer filled cushions, put on the fill, fabric, and welt to the outside arms and back, and cambric to the bottom.
There was no such thing as punching a time clock. We worked until we finished the furniture to deliver it on time to the customer. That often meant working way past eight hours. We also worked every holiday.
Before I explain why I am telling you this story, please understand that I am, in no way, blaming or accusing my parents for my abuse of work that came later in the years that followed my childhood. My parents did everything they could to provide for us, and I am grateful.
Now, I told you that story so I could tell you this. While I learned to work with speed, accuracy, and effort, my addictive nature also found “relief” in work. That was the foundation of my later becoming a workaholic. I found myself proud of how hard and well I could work. I championed work over sleep. While my father never required it, I remember many times working in the shop and then going to work on projects outside the shop, which resulted in me working well past 24 hours without sleep.
I thought that people who took naps were sissies. I could outwork every friend and relative and I wore that like a medal. I remember once being up over 72 hours, much of it working, and then I had to play the drums at a gig. Yes, I was also a professional drummer. After 11 pm, I was playing when I sensed my arms and legs tingling. My body was falling asleep, and I had difficulty controlling my drumming. I made it through the night and then collapsed. I was proud of that.
The fact is, I was most comfortable working. That can help you go a long way in the world. However, the other side is that it is not what God intended. God mandates holiness, and a part of living holy is living in the balance God intended regarding work and rest: the sabbath.
I have improved my balance between work, rest, and sabbath, and I continue.
I intend to write a few more articles related to workaholism, but for now, if this article resonates with you, you may find an old presentation by one of the professors with whom I have been blessed to study.
The information is only a little longer than 28 minutes. I have meditated on it and put it into practice, helping me balance work with rest – sabbath. It may help you or someone you know.
