“Work, work, work, work, work, work

You see me I be work, work, work, work, work, work

You see me do me dirt, dirt, dirt, dirt, dirt, dirt

There's something 'bout that work, work, work, work, work, work

When you a gon' learn, learn, learn, learn, learn, learn

Me na care if me tired, tired, tired, tired, tired, tired” - Rihanna


I’m a worker. Workaholic. Live to work. Work is life.

This was my creed. An invisible tattoo born from the necessity of circumstance.

My miner father, my cleaner mother.

My father with spinal surgery from.. Work. then working some more.

Second oldest of six children. You know the story. Impoverished upbringing begetting a child who either sinks or swims in a world where the rich get richer and the poor get poorer.


A learned pattern of behaviour: WORK.

Work at school for the grades, get a job at 14 to earn some coin, work at uni, work at night, work at day, work on weekends, work on Christmas, on New year’s day, on every holiday. While they sleep I worked. While they drank I worked.

Life doesn’t hand out anything for free if your last name is Durnan. Work hard. Harder than most. Work the hardest you can.


Think you can take a break? Wrong. You must work more. Work for the others, for those that can’t [won’t].

I told this story to myself until it became automated. It’s in my nature. If I see someone shovelling dirt I will pick up a shovel and get to work helping.

I would say to myself I work like a man.

There was no where I wouldn’t drive to, the more physically challenging and laborious the task, the more I would throw myself into it. Three places of employment at a time, I didn’t know what a day or night off was.

Training with Ido Portal and more work? Yeh gimme gimme I love that shit let me prove how much I can squeeze into a day. I don’t need sleep! Dopamine, my drug of choice. Just don’t leave me with a spare minute in the day.

I would zoom around in my car, zipping here there and everywhere. Cooking engines as self care was neglected as much as servicing my car.

It was always destined to happen, losing my licence that is. I had already served 2 previous years of good behaviour for excessive chronic speeding. The third time was most certainly not lucky.

I was hit with a final 6 demerit point loss Dec 2017 and continued to evade service of licence suspension for a further 8 months until someone finally caught me out at home.

Wings clipped. Six months, no driving.

Considering I live 1.5 hours away from Modus this was a big deal. You may as well have put me under house arrest.

I wasn’t angry or frustrated. Actually, I was relieved. The universe finally told me in no uncertain terms:

STOP

I had to stop the business and fast pace of life. I had to sit with emotions and feelings of “not doing enough”.
I had to look at my choices and habits and all the extra space that would be created. Staring into the loss of a certain freedom modern life has granted us.

What also came up?

Fear.

Of not making money. Fear of not having enough. Fear of letting go of control. Fear of letting other people drive me around. Fear of being dependant.

The first three months was easy. It was nice. It was funny. But now I’m in month 4… and it’s getting old.

I just want to go to the beach on those hot days and be on my own. But I can’t.

I just want to go out to the shop to grab some butter… BUT I CAN’T

I just want to pick up my nephew. BUT I CAN’T

Lesson learned Universe. I’ve slowed down.

I sit more. Meditate more. Breathe more. I welcomed the soft river to balance the internal furnace.

And you know what? the world didn’t end.

I had space to create future income streams and tick things off my "To Do” list that I hadn’t made time for. I left space.

I also found out who my real friends were (and we ALL have those people). The ones who I always drove to, flew to and called up to catch up. I send them love but now channel my energy to those who give back too. Fuckers.

I have two months left to go. I’m going to sit with the discomfort and lean forward to greet it, writing a different story knowing that The Workhorse still resides within, but I can choose when to put that yoke around my neck and remove it when I want. I’m not a slave to the program anymore.

Break Patterns.

…Plus I’ve saved a lot of money on petrol and speeding fines!!!!

xoxo MD


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