Work Won’t Validate You — But it Can Liberate You.

“The truest happiness lay in working hard and living frugally.”

I once embodied this ethos, put forward by none other than a pig. That pig being Napoleon, the Stalin-inspired leader of George Orwell’s Animal Farm.

For years I would beat my chest and #hustle. I’d wake up at 5AM, hit the gym, and proceed to work a twelve-hour day. I’d look down upon anybody who didn’t and write them off as lazy and inept.

For me, work became the great equalizer. It elevated my ego and gave me a sense of self-worth.

You see, I was quite young when I developed a nagging sense that I wasn’t enough.

Growing Pains

At the risk of sounding like The Goonies’ Chunk, in the first grade, I wore a leg brace akin to the one that Forrest Gump wore as a child. Like Gump, this attracted the unwanted attention of fellow classmates.

In the fourth grade, I was bullied because of my Meditteranean features — aka, a big schnozz, one that offered Ray Romano some stiff competition.

And in high school, a sense of otherness led me to grow my hair long, wear nothing but black t-shirts emblazoned with dark, melancholy themes, and seek solace in heavy metal music.

As I grew older and my hair grew shorter, I set out to once and for all do away with this gaping sense of worthlessness. Having grown up a first-generation Australian and son of hard-working Eastern European migrants, I did this the only way I knew how — by working harder than everyone else.

In the words of the infamous Blackie Lawless, singer of rock band WASP, I wanted to be somebody.

Becoming Somebody

I got my Bachelor’s degree, shortly followed by a Master’s degree, and somehow managed to score gigs at prestigious consulting firms such as KPMG and EY.

I had arrived.

I was on six figures.

I flew business class.

And I had watermarked business cards that would make Patrick Bateman envious.

These cards were more than just pieces of cardboard. They associated my name with that of a brand much bigger and…