Reflection #51: The Toxic Myth of Hard Work

Reflection #51: The Toxic Myth of Hard Work

I was taught
my labor was holiness,
exhaustion was a kind of prayer,
one’s value measured in tasks completed.

So, I kept on.
Past reason, past balance,
past the quiet voice
that asked for rest.

The system was hungry—always
a mouth never filled,
a ledger never closed,
a virtue measured in hours given away.

In this I was not alone.
We lined the days with our devotion,
calling it purpose,
calling it calling… and it was…

Is my life --my ending
to be a tally of effort
a life reduced
to how hard I worked?

Who am I
without the striving?
without the title?
without the proving?

Still—the past work
holds meaning,
even when it faltered,
falling short of the vision.

And now I hesitate.
As if stepping away
erases the cost
it took to belong.

But it’s grip loosens
each day, each moment—
thread by thread,
piece by piece

Until what remains
is not the place nor title,
but the self
that endured beneath it.