When I began working full-time after grad school, I was introduced to the idea of work spouses. A work spouse is that person at work with whom you spend most of your work day, talk about your projects, and inevitably share about your personal lives outside of work. In a school context, this usually is the person you work with on lesson planning, curriculum development, grading, and sharing stories about the ridiculous things your students write on their exit tickets. Along with the professional relationship, work spouses also inevitably learn a lot about your out-of-work life as well: your hobbies, weekend plans, drama with your family, attempts at getting concert tickets, relationship drama. Usually there is no sexual tension with work spouses – it is an understood platonic yet involved relationship.

Now that I have a legally certifiable life spouse, it brings to a whole new level my reflection on the over-discussed work-life balance.

At my current job, I usually spend about 50 hours a week physically in the building.  Not to mention the 10 hours a week commuting back and forth from East Harlem, and the time spent at home looking at Blackberry messages I received.  And it’s not like I’m spending 50+ hours just sitting around watching paint dry. This work is exhausting and involved and takes a whole lot out of me. I rely and depend on my coworkers to push me forward, to give a different perspective, to come alongside and journey together through this school year. I wake up at 5am and go to bed at 1030pm for the express purpose of being more functional at work.

It has been on my mind now: Why do I spend so much time on work, and why does my wife and my non-work life get so little of my time?

Of course the possible reasons are endless: It’s because I live in New York City where productivity is THE measure of a person and the more productive I am the more measured I become or maybe it’s because in the US we value cranking out products over spending time on the couch watching Netflix so of course I’m going to spend most of my week in a former lactation room talking to children that are not mine or it could be that I (sadly) work harder at work because there is a concrete end result of me being re-hired and/or promoted versus being fired and not being able to afford the life that I would like to live with my family which I cannot because I am spending my life on the express train to East Harlem reading books on my iPod touch or I wonder in other countries if they get to see their loved ones for more than a few hours a day.

Breathe.

Part of why I want to retire at 27 is so I can spend my time how I want, with whom I want, unburdened by finances or responsibility. I don’t want it to be selfishly watching all 26 seasons of Dr. Who, but I want to have the freedom to do that. I want to work and I want to be with my family and grab a beer and sleep in. Basically I want it all and I want it my way and I want it now. I hope I am allowed to tantrum at 27. I truly just want the best.