Soul Grinder

We work to live, yet too often do we find ourselves living to work, a cycle as old as the railroads that stretch across the indifferent land. I watched my father labor endless hours for the railroad, answering calls in the dead of night to take a train to Middlesboro or Knoxville. CSX wrecked his body, his hands twisted and useless even after surgeries, his shoulders replaced with cold metal that mirrored the unfeeling nature of the corporate machine. His knee was so damaged that Doctors tried to replace his ligaments, only to cause gangrene that nearly cost him half his leg. They shaved out a wedge below his knee into the bone, leaving his leg bent sideways, a crooked leg to the cost of his toil. That injury forced him into retirement on disability, a reluctant surrender to the inevitability of decay.

Once retired, he started landscaping friends' houses for extra income, a humble endeavor that grew into a full-blown business. He ended up busier with his side business than he ever was with his career, the earth beneath his hands a more forgiving adversary than the steel tracks that had betrayed him. Yet, even in this new chapter, there was a sense of relentless pursuit, as if he could not escape the rhythm of labor that had been ingrained in him.

This cannot be the way life is meant to be. We are not supposed to be locked away in boxes, creating wealth for someone who likely doesn't even know our names. That person doesn't care about our families, doesn't see the lines etched into our faces by years of sacrifice. If you died on the job, you'd be replaced the next day, or at least before the next pay period. Companies need production. It’s as cold as it sounds. No CEO is going to come and ensure your wife and child are cared for; no one is going to make sure you have life insurance. So why should we subject ourselves to this chaotic way of life, this unending grind that strips us of our humanity?

As a manager at a dealership, I would spend 12-14 hours a day at my job, typically six days a week. People talk about work-life balance, but it never balanced correctly for me. You work too much and don’t spend enough time with your family. You don’t work enough and can’t do the things with your family you want to do. The reward for all your hard work is to work until you’re broken, then spend the last 10-20 years bored and beaten, the twilight of your life a mere shadow of its prime.

There are some who prefer work, whether for the lust of money or simply the need to stay busy, to stave off the void of idleness. My father was the latter type. He preferred time with me over working, but if he could use my back and spend time together, that was his favorite way of bonding. Not so much mine when I was a teenager, but it taught me a strong work ethic. It was instilled in me to always do my best, to strive even when the world seemed indifferent. Since having a family of my own, I can’t understand how I’m supposed to live most of my life away from the people I care about most and spend most of my time with people I care nothing for. More often than not, the people I work with wouldn’t be anyone I’d associate with outside the workplace. When you simplify things, it is just that.

This insanity of being forced into things you don’t prefer to do for the things you love the most caused my brain to snap slightly off course. I quit my job with a hefty salary at the top of my industry. I was one of the fastest up-and-coming managers in my entire company, something I carried immense pride in. I developed a major complex shortly after. Once there is nowhere else to go, how are you supposed to have a target to aim for? When I got to the top, it wasn’t glorious. I didn’t make as much money as I thought I would, and the stress levels grew at a faster pace. I would drive an hour and a half back to the house in silence, then lock myself away in the bathroom for an hour to have some peace. That reduced my time with my son to around an hour a day, one maybe two days a week. I said fuck it, I’d rather be broke than be sucked dry of all my ambitions and become a bad husband or father, which are my most important jobs.

The proclamation, "Do what you love, and you will never work a day in your life." If someone were to offer me a hundred grand a year to indulge in pizza, savor the sweetness of my wife, and wrestle my child, then consider my resume sent. These are but a few of my cherished delights, but if I were to sculpt an idyllic workday, it would be with these treasures. However, even in such a whimsical dream, the absurdity of our quests is laid bare, for joy cannot endure when chained by necessity. The weight of obligation drains the essence from life, transforming even the most blissful moments into burdens.

Fortune falls upon some, allowing them to entwine their passions with their daily work. They master the art of bending reality to their desires. I seek to tread such a path, hoping to arrive at that pinnacle. I know that our true purpose transcends the daily grind, the ceaseless march towards a paycheck. We are destined for more than mere production, for more than the relentless chase. We are meant to bask in the presence of our loved ones, to savor the richness of life beyond the confines of labor.

Yet, the world often conspires against such dreams, pressing us into molds that do not fit. The pressure of bills, the looming threat of financial ruin, these forces push us into jobs that drain our spirits. We find ourselves locked in routines that grow ever more suffocating, our lives reduced to a series of tasks that never end.

My father, despite his broken body, never lost his spirit. He found a way to keep moving, to keep creating, even when the railroad had taken so much from him. His hands, though deformed, still found purpose in the soil. His heart, though scarred, still beat with the rhythm of life. He showed me that there is always a way to reclaim some piece of ourselves, even in the face of overwhelming adversity.

But I wonder, how many of us are able to find that way? How many are crushed beneath the weight of expectations, never to rise again? The system is designed to use us up and cast us aside, to take our best years and leave us with nothing but regrets. We are promised a better future, but that future never comes. It is always just out of reach, a mirage in the desert of our lives.

I remember the long drives home from the dealership, the silence in the car a contrast to the noise of the day. I would think about my son, about the moments I was missing, about the life that was slipping through my fingers. I would think about my father, about the sacrifices he made, and wonder if it was all worth it. The answer was always the same: no, it was not.

So I made a choice. I chose to walk away from the security of a steady income, from the prestige of a high-ranking position. I chose to reclaim my time, to be present for my family, to live a life that felt true to my values. It was not an easy choice, and it has not been an easy path. But it is the only path that makes sense to me.

I believe that we are meant to live fully, to embrace the beauty and the pain, the joy and the sorrow. We are meant to connect with others, to build relationships that sustain us, to create memories that last. We are meant to find meaning in our work, but not to be defined by it. We are meant to love and to be loved, to find peace in the moments of stillness, to find strength in the face of struggle.

Fuck that Job, it won’t define you. It is the choices we make, the paths we take, that shape our destiny. We must find the courage to break free from the constraints that bind us, to seek out the life we truly desire. For it is only then that we can truly say we are living, and not merely existing.

So I walk forward, uncertain of what the future holds, but certain of one thing: I will not be a slave to the grind. I will not let my life be consumed by the demands of others. I will find my own way, and in doing so, I will find the freedom that we all deserve. The freedom to live, to love, and to be truly, deeply alive.