There is a dog walker who visits my apartment complex every day. His name is Ravi. He shows up early, greets every dog with genuine excitement, talks to them, and plays with them. He carries a lightness that’s hard to miss. But what really stands out about him isn’t what he does. It’s how he seems. When I watch him, I see a kind of ease, a calmness, and a quiet joy that doesn’t feel forced. He doesn’t earn much. He lives a simple life. But his work doesn’t seem to drain him. It suits him.

When I see him, I feel envy. I want what he has, that peace, joy, energy. I want to wake up every day with a smile on my face and not the dread I wake up with. But what can I do? I can’t leave my well-paying work and become a dog walker (metaphorically speaking). I have bills to pay, mortgages, insurance, I need money to afford a certain lifestyle I am accustomed to. And when you want to grow in life, you have to make certain choices. I have made mine, traded my happiness for a house, my peace for a fancy car, my freedom for a corner office. And at the rate I am working, I might be able to retire early, buy a villa in Spain, and enjoy the rest of my life. But sleep eludes me now. I am stressed and burnt out. The exhaustion I carry into the night doesn’t let my mind rest. I take a few pills before bed and sleep like a baby. When I wake up, the body recovers, but something inside still feels unresolved.

But I am not the only one burning, you are smouldering too. You have traded your freedom as well, the sleep eludes you too. You too feel envious of that intern in your office who shows up everyday with excitement and exuberance that you once had when you started your work life. You enjoyed your work once, it gave you purpose, a promise of a better life. You got the life, but you were left behind. Now, you are wondering what went wrong. But you are not the only one, there are others like you, unresolved and burning.

But this rot you feel is not your doing, it’s by design. This is how the world operates. It runs on money and to earn it, you need a job that makes enough of it. This is why a kid who loved painting is working as a prosecutor and the one who loved writing is making slides on powerpoint. Even Ravi would trade money for dog walking in a heart beat. Money is sacrosanct. And you just followed the rules. You chose a career like you were supposed to, to survive and potentially thrive. But when you started work, you were in your 20s and your choices were a product of the mindset, circumstances and goals of a 20 something. You had boundless energies at your disposal to invest and you just needed a job with a decent salary and growth opportunities, so that you can build an independent and self-sufficient life. But you are not in your 20s anymore, your energies are not the same, and your goals of self-sufficiency have long been met. So, maybe it’s time to conduct a mid-life review of your work life, realign your goals and create a plan of action for the future. But that plan comes with the cost, both financial and societal. You might have to compromise on the quantum of your investments or upgrading to your dream house. Your choices could be questioned by your friends and family. You might be the odd one out swimming against the current. But it’s the cost worth paying to focus on what matters, your physical and mental health, your family and longevity.

Before you deliberate and decide what your plan is, you should know that there are three kinds of people that exist in the world, the first kind are the ones who are bound to a craft or a passion, that they can’t live any other way. These are those musicians or writers who would rather teach school kids piano or work as a freelance writer, but won’t join the corporate world even if it means they won’t be able to pay their bills on time. The second kind are the ones who are only motivated with money, position and power. They learn the necessary skills, hone the right mindset and are always ready to take every opportunity that comes their way to further their progress in life. These are your CEOs and senators.

The third kind are neither here nor there, they wanted to be a musician when they were young, but weren’t wedded enough to it, so instead they became a coder for a multinational company. You are the third kind. The first two kinds are fine, the life long struggling musician doesn’t envy a CEO, he is content paying bills teaching piano to school kids. The CEO motivation to close that next deal is so insatiable, he doesn’t regret not joining a band in college. But you, the third kind, you are doomed. You thought you were motivated, and you would be content chasing and building all your life. But along the way, you found out that maybe you were that musician or may be you just don’t want to spend the next half of your life staring at numbers and slides on the monitor screen.

I am the third kind too. I wanted to be an actor, a performer when I was a kid, but like you, I also chose a career that made the most money. For many years, I hustled and I was moderately successful; a good house, a decent car and foreign holidays. But every time I thought I could rest, the goal post kept moving forward. I realised that the chase will never end and the longer it went on, the more robotic my life became. The years were slipping, the health was degrading, the books unread, the passion left unexplored and an unexplainable bitterness seeping in. I looked at my 4 year old son and felt that this is the opportunity to come back to life again. I knew it would be career suicide but it was worth it, if it would bring me to life. Many years have passed since then, and yes my investments have slowed down, I don’t dream of that villa anymore but I am healthier, happier and more alive that I ever was. It took me time, patience and sacrifice; but I enjoy my work now. And I don’t feel envious of Ravi anymore. I understand him. I relate to him. I know how it feels to love your work. How it feels to wake up every day with excitement and energy, looking forward to the day ahead. You were once a Ravi too and you could be again.