“All of my self-esteem, all of my validation, all of my happiness and joy was coming from my work,” the playwright James Graham recently admitted on an episode of Desert Island Discs. “I didn’t allow myself to believe there was space for anything else.”
Graham, the 41-year-old writer of plays including Dear England, Ink and Labour of Love, explained that he would often isolate from friends, lie to loved ones and neglect his physical health in order to work. He was, he says, a workaholic: “You hear that phrase [workaholic] a lot [as though] it is a habit that you have, not an actual sickness,” he told the presenter Lauren Laverne. “But it is … no way different really from [addictions to] drink or drugs or sex or anything else – it’s a pattern of behaviour that is slowly sort of killing you.”
Graham overcame his problem by attending Workaholics Anonymous, a fellowship patterned on the same 12-step recovery process as Alcoholics Anonymous. They hold in-person and online meetings for people all over the UK.
OCD overlap
Many of us wear the term “workaholic” like a badge of honour, believing that it indicates physical, emotional and moral strength. Historical icons like Winston Churchill and Margaret Thatcher were celebrated for their superhuman work ethic. And today’s pre-eminent tech-bro success stories and social media influencers – with their 5am starts and ice bath fixations – further cement the idea of compulsive self-improvement as a positive design for life.
Workaholism is not included as a clinical condition in The Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders (DSM). However, studies have shown that there is a clear overlap between diseases such as obsessive-compulsive disorder and the constant compulsion to work or be productive. And recent research suggests that more than half of UK adults feel unable to switch off from work.
“Overworking can become an addiction if it starts to impact negatively upon other areas of your life,” says Dr Niall Campbell, a consultant psychiatrist at the Priory hospital and addiction centre in London. “It’s not necessarily the amount of hours you are working but the extent to which you’re allowing it to harm your relationships, your ability to relax or experience joy in other areas of life.”
So how do you know if you are a work addict who might be endangering your health, rather than just a studious worker with a healthy amount of ambition?
“Hard work is the only addiction that society encourages and applauds,” says Malissa Clark, an associate professor at the University Of Georgia and the author of Never Not Working: Why the Always-On Culture Is Bad for Business and How to Fix It.
Almost everyone had suffered some sort of physical breakdown before seeking treatment.
“Diagnosing a workaholic is very difficult because people so rarely see themselves as having a problem,” says Clark, who interviewed numerous members of Workaholics Anonymous for the book and found most of them had been driven by crisis to confront their problem. “Almost everyone had suffered some sort of physical breakdown before seeking treatment,” she says.
I have been there myself. In my 20s, working long hours as a magazine journalist and drinking with just as much gusto on a daily basis, I collapsed in the street, suffered a seizure and was hospitalised. The doctors said I was suffering from exhaustion and told me to rest. I ignored them. A few years later, while working as a television news reporter, I suffered another collapse followed by multiple seizures after 11 consecutive days of 12-hour shifts. I went to A&E, underwent more tests and was again advised to work less and rest more. Once again, I ignored them. Driven by ambition, insecurity and a sense of financial precariousness, I worked and worked and worked – constantly on the run from lurking depression and anxiety.
When I turned 40, I gave up drink and drugs but, if anything, my approach to work became even more obsessive. I believed that sobriety had given me the extra energy to achieve even more and said yes to every opportunity that came my way. Alongside writing for newspapers and running my own production company, I was presenting a daily three-hour show on Talk Radio. I believed that sobriety had blessed me with superhuman powers that enabled me to fit more into each day than the average person. The fact that I held down all of these exciting jobs made me feel as if I was doing everything right. My therapist – who had helped me get sober – suggested that I might need more balance in my life. She even floated the idea of me stepping away from some of the work. I scoffed at the idea.
But by 2018, I was burnt out and constantly sick: from unshiftable colds to agonising back pain to anxiety-driven sleeplessness, my body was sending me non-stop warning signs. Eventually, I was forced to step back and reassess my life. For the past six years, I have built a new way of working, mostly from home, with more free time to relax with my family. It took a few decades but I have eventually realised that I can make a living without having to completely burn myself out.
Had physical and mental illness not forced my hand, I might have carried on at the same relentless pace for years. Who knows what the consequences might have been? My wife says I was often zombie-like at home, physically present but too strung out to engage properly. Weekends were often spent slumped in front of the telly and I slept through numerous family holidays.
It now seems clear to me that my work addictions were driven by the exact same forces that had driven my drink problems. I was uncomfortable with my own feelings, constantly anxious about the future and struggled with various insecurities rooted in my childhood. Just as drink and drugs had once helped numb these feelings out, so work helped provide a distraction.
It’s completely stupid to think that more effort equals better output.
“The compulsive desire to work often comes from a bad place of worry and the need for recognition,” says Thomas Curran, an associate professor of psychology at LSE and the author of The Perfection Trap: The Power Of Good Enough In A World That Always Wants More. “In the mind of a perfectionist, working weekends and evenings will give them recognition and a sense of peace. But it will only ever be temporary because they soon step back onto the train of constant work. Joy is hard to find for perfectionists and workaholics because they are always looking forward to the next goal or ambition. They never stop to savour things.”
In my early 40s, not only was I failing to enjoy any of my successes, I eventually began to struggle to perform at work due to a lack of energy and focus. Ironically, my addiction to work was impairing my ability to work. “It’s completely stupid to think that more effort equals better output,” adds Curran.
Like any addiction, workaholism isn’t rational. Even if we know that working non-stop isn’t producing results, it can still provide addicts with a much-needed sense of validation. “The key is to stop wrapping up work with your sense of identity,” says Clark. “I work hard but I don’t think my work defines me. I make sure I am putting equal effort into my social life, my family and my hobbies. And I remember that my value as a person is about more than what I do for a living.”
Of course, many people feel as if they have no choice but to throw themselves into work in order to financially survive. Again, Clark says this requires a perspective shift: “You need to understand that beyond a certain point money is not going to solve all of your problems. I grew up poor and fear of scarcity drove my approach to work. But earning enough to survive shouldn’t mean you need to sacrifice every other aspect of your life, especially your health.” She recommends the book Money Zen: The Secret To Finding Your Enough by Manisha Thakor as a useful tool for resetting your financial perspective.
The spouses often said that being married to a workaholic felt like being a single parent.
Often, it is a workaholic’s spouse or partner who identifies the problem. “Many of the work addicts I spoke with were pushed to seek help by their wife or husband, who gave them an ultimatum,” says Clark. “The spouses themselves often said that being married to a workaholic felt like being a single parent. Their partner wasn’t ever there – if not physically, then emotionally – because work came first.”
So what should someone do if their partner won’t face up to their own work issues? “Communication is key,” says Clark. “If they won’t accept they have a problem, you need to make them understand how their working habits are impacting you and the rest of the family.”
Of course, ambition is healthy and hard work can play a positive role in our mental health. As always, balance is crucial. “It’s perfectly normal to expect our careers to have ups and downs with periods of high intensity,” says Clark. “But it’s simply not sustainable to try and work at that level all the time. Society will always encourage you to overwork, which makes it hard for you to see you have a problem. But listen to your friends and family. If they tell you there’s a problem, there probably is one.”
Five signs you’re a workaholic
Not keeping boundaries
“If it has become normal for you to expect work calls and tasks to come in at weekends, in the evenings or even on holiday, then you need to take action,” says Estelle Read, an HR professional, coach and the author of Inner Brilliance, Outer Shine: 10 Antidotes To Imposter Syndrome, Workaholism And Stress. “As a first step, I encourage my clients to get themselves a ‘Bat Phone’ that only their closest friends and family can contact them on outside of working hours. Their other phone can stay locked away somewhere.”
Feeling guilty
“Being busy is perfectly normal but if you find yourself actually feeling guilty when you’re not working, that’s a problem,” says Read. “It means that you are unable to enjoy the other parts of your life – such as family, socialising and hobbies – because you feel like they’re of less importance than professional life.”
Reduced performance
“The World Health Organisation recognised burnout as an occupational phenomenon in 2019,” says Read. “One of the key symptoms they described was ‘reduced professional efficacy’. Most workaholics believe the amount they achieve will be linked directly to the amount of hours they put in. But the data suggests otherwise. If you notice that the quality of your work is in decline despite all those late nights in the office, you need to reassess your approach.”
Lack of enjoyment outside of work
“I am a recovering workaholic myself,” says Read. “At my worst, I was unable to derive any joy from time spent away from work. On weekends, when I was with my family, I felt disengaged and constantly distracted by thoughts of work. I seemed detached to people around me. When you are drifting through weekends and holidays in a daze, it’s a sign you’ve sacrificed too much.”
Always saying ‘yes’
“A good professional person will do their best to contribute and help colleagues in a sensible way,” Read explains. “But a workaholic simply says ‘yes’ to anything they are asked to do, without thinking. If you are failing to assess what impact your work decisions will have on, say, your ability to go to the gym, handle childcare or cook a proper meal for yourself, then your priorities are out of balance.”