Well WP. I really had to think about this one! I even had to eat breakfast before I started writing😂
When you ask, “How does hard work make you feel fulfilled?” I can’t help but smirk. Hard work? Depends on what you mean by that. If you’re talking about the old myth society loves to peddle, hustle till you collapse, wear exhaustion like a badge, grind for a system that doesn’t care, then no thanks.
That’s not fulfillment; that’s just a slow drain on your soul. I stopped worshiping at the altar of burnout a long time ago. The world’s got it twisted. “Hard work” isn’t about clocking endless hours, ticking boxes, or collecting plaques for “Employee of the Month.” It’s not about shuffling papers until your eyes glaze over or sitting through meetings that could’ve been emails. That kind of work? It’s a trap, dressed up as virtue. It leaves you too tired to live, too empty to dream. I’m done with it.
Real hard work, the kind that actually matters, looks different. It’s planting seeds in the dirt and watching them grow. It’s creating something with your own two hands, whether it’s a loaf of bread or words that cut through the noise. It’s standing up for what you believe in, even when the crowd’s shouting you down. It’s the messy, stubborn, soul-feeding stuff that makes you feel alive. That’s my kind of hard work.
And yeah, it’s tough sometimes, cursing at slugs in the garden or wrestling with your own doubts isn’t easy, but at least it’s mine. It’s not for a machine, a boss, or a paycheck. It’s for me.
But here’s the twist: hard work isn’t just about the task. Sometimes it’s about people. Helping someone, lifting them up, or even just dealing with the ones who are – let’s be real – hard work themselves. You know the type: draining, demanding, never satisfied. That’s an emotional marathon, and it’s not for the faint of heart. Yet, when you push through the resistance, the tiredness, the drama, there’s a quiet glow waiting on the other side. Not the flashy “look at me” kind, but the steady hum of knowing you gave your best. That someone’s life, maybe even your own, is a little lighter because of it.
And then there’s the hardest work of all: the work we do on ourselves. Facing our flaws, unlearning the nonsense we’ve been fed, and trying to become better humans. That’s not a sprint; it’s a lifelong trek. But every step, every moment of growth, feels like a rebellion against a world that wants us to stay small, tired, and obedient.
So, does hard work fulfill me? Sure, but not the way the world expects!
Fulfillment doesn’t come from burning out for a system that doesn’t care. It comes from living wide awake, chasing what sets your soul on fire, and giving a piece of yourself to something or someone who matters. Pay me in muddy boots, starry nights, and the thrill of knowing Monday morning no longer owns me. That’s the real work. That’s the reward.
Mae 🧡
UNDER THE WILL... OVER THE DRAMA... 
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