Over the past 1.5 years, I've hardly had a break. There has always been a tension below the surface, a voice at the back of my head that constantly reminds me of tasks that I have yet to complete. I worked at least 5 days a week, often 6 and sometimes 7 days, clocking in 60-70 hours on most weeks. I've had 9pm meetings. I've had days I work from 8am to 3am (with maybe 1.5 hours of meal time). This is not a #humblebrag. This is just what it was. There were days I crawled into bed after 12 hours of work and crawled back up, 5 hours later, into another 14 hours of work.
Weeks go by. Months go by. 18 months may not be a long time but when you are working day in and day out, it feels like forever. Everything blends in together, and your life becomes a blurry mess. When I look back at my tweets on Twitter, 90% of my tweets were all variants of the same thing - "Work sucks", "I'm so tired". I keep telling myself that this is the part of the marathon where you actually do have to sprint a little, just to get ahead. That I just have to put one feet in front of the other, and push on.
18 months later, I am exhausted. My life, while not a mess yet, was heading there. I was a 26 year old who felt like a 46, then a 27 year old who felt like a 72. I am tired, spent, drained, and worn out, all at once.
18 months later, when I look into the mirror, the first thing I see is not my acne anymore, but the dark circles under my eyes.
I had wanted to escape the rat race, to avoid the Singaporean Life Script, but somehow managed to gotten myself enlisted into the crazy world of start-ups. I thought I could handle it but 18 months later, I was all but ready to quit. There has been an adjustment recently and honestly, it was a relief for me. That start-up life is over, for the moment at least, and now I must rest.