Hello, my name is Sam. I'm a workaholic.

I have a confession to make. It all started when I was young.

In the 80's I had a drunk Italian alcoholic Dad that loved to come home from The Latin Lounge where he would get boozed up the second he got off work. My Mother cleaned and cooked all day after me and my brother Joey who ransacked the house like there were five of us. I never forget watching Inspector Gadget while my Mother sang Cyndi Lauper-be bop...
We were living in Hammond Indiana and the majority of dance parties in the state were provided by my parents. I only lived there until I was about 4 so I don't remember much. However, what I do remember is my mother lighting off a firework that went off 3 feet above our heads, a scary storm, a scary basement, a nice old man, about 200 rounds of bullets flying through our window one night.

It's true. I remember my Father jerking me and my brother to the ground as he huddled over us to try and protect our bodies from bullets. I now understand I would do the same for my son, or even him. When all the shots stopped flying my Father ran into the living room my brother and I freaked out. About 5 minutes later our home was filled with people I could hear the sirens and concerns from the on-lookers. I went into the hallway where an old woman said you want me to help you put on your pants young man? I was upset because my camouflage slippers were under the front windows which were blown out, and a firman wouldn't let me pick them up.
My mother had "Cujo" by Steven King standing straight up that caught a 22 shell at about page 200. My mom also still has a scar from where a bullet grazed right down her head removing some skin (not noticeable).

Needless to say we never went back besides to pick up our belongings. What happened was our neighbor was caught up with drugs and some guys he even fired a 12 gauge earlier on in the day to scare these guys away. The problem was at night time the shooters mistook our house for his house-not one bullet hit his house. They drove off, robbed a restaurant down the street and were never caught.

After living with our Aunt for a while, we moved to Hessville (the nicer side of Hammond) where my dad began drinking tequila on a daily basis. As a child these were my roughest times. I began to hate everything about him, the way he would wake my brother and I up at 3:00 A.M. yelling about the Russians. Telling me how one day we will all be assigned a barcode to identify us. Fun and games until he turned violent-which was inevitable.

My father would beat us like he enjoyed it. Grabbing our shirts and pulling us to his mouth where he would scream, throw us around, and use the belt-o-mighty to get the job done. It was disturbing to say the least. My brother and I would act as if we were asleep at 6:00 P.M. when my mother knew he was drunk and on a rampage. I watched him throw her, hit her, we would all run away for a week or two, but my brother and I would beg mom to go back, and we don't know why. Actually, I hoped one day we would have a great family.

My father kept beating us until I was 16, boxing outside with my friend-then he wanted a turn. I jabbed him a few times, and dodged what he was throwing (you get in a lot of fights in Hammond in High School). My brother laughed as well as everyone else outside. He got mad started trying to beat me in front of my friends, and the whole damn neighborhood, and I hit him. I acted like I was going to punch him in the stomach with my left, he dropped his gaurd to block, and I already had my right wound up. I punched my 6'1' Dad time stood still. I could see everyone in the neighborhood in slow-motion waiting to see if he would retaliate. He never did, he wiped the blood from his nose and went inside.

My mom said he kept calling her from work crying, in disbelief that he had been such a bad father. Then one day they moved away when I was only 17. They first called it a summer vacation place-which they loved. So they wanted to sell our home, and said my brother and I could stay there until they sold it. Since my Father worked in East Chicago my mom would come up everyday after dropping off my dad at work, then they would go home.

Then my Mother got sick and tired of driving up from an hour away to drop my Dad off at work, and they started coming over less frequently. My brother moved in with my parents, and I got the 3 floor party pad. I was self-taught to play the drums and piano so I played in the local scene each weekend making nothing, and having nothing.

I was just too young to be out alone. I once had a whole summer without power- my neighbor lent me an extension cord for my fridge in exchange some my hot friends giving her a visit or two so she could hit on them. Don't let me kid you it was a walk in the park compared to getting beat. I was a popular guy (because i had a house everyone could party at), but I had the time of my life. I was always so anxious, and happy. My life went from being completely scared all the time to having a great time. Some years went by quickly before my father had his stroke, and to this day we still don't get along very well. He went on to verbally abuse me after he knew he couldn't hit me anymore.

I was told I was nothing. I would never amount to s**t, and that my brother and I were pussy babies, and that's why he beat us. We deserved it for playing like children I guess...
A few years after that my brother was getting great jobs for himself, and even got me a few jobs. I found myself giving it 100% in ever job, or task I was given. I became the yes man at every company. The problem was the pay. I found that I couldn't give a company more than one-year of my time before I would quit if they couldn't give me a better salary. I kept trying to start my own business, and I have been starting my own businesses since I was 18. I am an entrepreneur at heart.

After my wife got pregnant I was forced to take a low paying job, simply for the health insurance. I was 25. I found myself slowly gaining experience and beginning my next job with more pay than the previous job. This was still not enough. I was making $10.00 per hour living in a cabin with one bedroom, and barely getting by. Our parents, well her parents anyway always helped us out. I was embarrassed for myself. One day however I did get a job working in the Union in Chicago (provided by my brother), at $30.00 per hour, and as much overtime as your body will take.

I enjoyed this job for about 5 years before I realized I didn't want to work construction until I'm old. I loved technology. I went back to school and now I have my own business (again) except this time everything seems to be working. I am more concise, organized, and ready to go. I did have a few years of driving around with the owner of a local roofing company listening to Tony Robbins all day-everyday. I first I took it as a joke listening to Tony talk away, and talk about a list over and over again. You have to make a list, you have to make a list. That's where it all made sense. I don't have a list. So I created one. You know what? Every time I put something on that list-I accomplish that task. Sometimes it takes a bigger list, or a list that has my goals/steps to take to get where I need to be.

Today I found my self wandering through my house in the eye of the observer. I walked through my home as if-continued below...

I walked through my home today from an observer stand point. My son playing with his cool new toys Santa brought him, and listening to White Zombie Astro-Creep 2000 which my wife bought me. My cats, my hardwood floor, and a cuban cigar (Leary quote sry). Everything was like walking through a dream. I was conscience. I was the observer.
After seeing what I have accopmlished I nearly cried. How could things end up like this I wondered. Is this what the universe sent me for having such a horrible time as a child?
Even though I don't believe in religion (after growing up heavily Catholic), I wonder if someone is watching out for me. Maybe even the Illuminati or Big Brother throws us all a break every once in a while, it sounds cooky, but I have to wonder.
I couldn't of possibly convinced myself 20 years ago that everything will be okay one day. That everything would be alright. I programmed my self to work, and clean, and be productive. I am too afraid to go through all of that.
I have never in my life drank a can of beer, and I don't plan on it. I begin working a few minutes after I wake up, and I carry that work with me all day until I go to sleep. I feel as if I stop working for a weekend-that it's I am losing productivity. I am too scared to go back to living in a bad area, I couldn't make my son live in an environment like that. With everything getting harder everyday I can't stop working. I enjoy it most of the time. I wish I had more time with my son too. How do I regulate? How do I shake myself inside and say enough, you're there, you can now chill?

I am hoping you enjoyed hearing about how I came to be, and hope you can offer me some guidence. I need to be balanced, I can feel my brain has overcome my body. My actions
are programmed, and not controlled. I have been nercvous recently, and smoking like a chimeney. I even snuck in some work on Christmas eve morning while my wife was in the other room.
I feel like I am weraing a hula-hoop that is off-balance if that makes any sense. I don't feel energy all around me anymore, it comes and goes. I am happy not sad or depressed,
just can't relax.

Great read...

Maybe you could spend some time with kids that have it tough.

I have done this for years...Let them see what they could accomplish.

Congratulations on everything you have achieved.

thats quite the story , and child hood you've had. Thanks for sharing

" I wish I had more time with my son too. How do I regulate? How do I shake myself inside and say enough, you're there, you can now chill?"


You just gotta find a way to incorporate your son+ your job , and the wife somewhere in the middle of your daily routine. Got your own business? well just wait till billy grows up , and im sure you can stick him in somewhere.

Work all day with son , get paid , be even more productive .


Then go home to wife who will hopefully greet you with steak dinners and exotic dishes, with of course those cute outfits all dolled up , with some sexy heels! as soon as you walk home. she says ,

hi hunnie welcome home ! steak is almost done *tee hee*
lool

Well thats my dream anyway if i had a kid and a great wife . WOuld want to incorporate it all as much as i could , that way you get the best of both worlds with a bonus of extra productivity :p

reply to post by whyamIhere


Thank you I appreciate it. Maybe I will look into helping around the community too!

reply to post by yourboycal2


Yaeh, sounds great right? I am a chicken kind of guy, but love high heels!

Thank you for sharing your story. It hit home for me. My father had an alcohol problem as well. Made life real tough on my family and I. It eventually led to the demise of my parent's marriage. Growing up, I told myself that I would never be like him.
Luckily, he had a heart attack and had to give up drinking. This had a positive impact on everyone.

I don't have any advice for overcoming you work obsession, but I do know that it is better to be a hard worker than not.
My father was a workaholic. He would work long days then come home and drink. I wish he had made more time to throw the old pigskin around. I always wanted him to take me golfing. Never happened. He always worked the weekends (being a CEO, he had to put in long hours.

He provided a good life for my brother and I, but I would trade all of the luxuries for more time with him.

Thanks again for sharing your story.

reply to post by samlf3rd


I thank you for sharing your story.. and i understand that you feel badly for not spending more time with your children.

I would like to add that quantity does not trump quality.

Take the time to talk to your children when you can.. and let them know about what you went without and why its important for you to provide for them in a better way than what you were provided for.

I assure you a 10 minute sincere heart to heart talk at bedtime.. or when you can... can produce great results..

Nothing beats a heartfelt " I love you" from a father.

I wish you the best Op.. and I am happy that you have risen beyond the sorrows of your youth.

You have an interesting story. I'm happy you have done well. I've had periods of "workaholicism" too, (although I call it 'making accomplishments' and reel myself back in at times. Since you seem to do well with setting goals and making lists (me too, I make a list everyday, lol. I have both long-term and short term goals), but since you seem to do well with goal setting and list making, why not include penciling in areas for "personal time" on your lists? That way perhaps you build in a way to spend more time with your son.

~My best.