“I couldn’t hold a conversation ... I sometimes got out of bed but mostly didn’t.”
These are some of the troubling insights researchers have gleaned from one of New Zealand’s first studies into workaholism.
While there’s no generally accepted medical definition of it, international studies have suggested it’s a tag that might apply to 15 per cent of the population.
We don’t know what that figure looks like in New Zealand.
But we do know that Kiwis put in, on average, nearly two and a half hours more work each week than people in other developed nations.
As the University of Canterbury’s Joana Kuntz explains, there’s more to workaholism than just constant grind: it’s a need to go above and beyond the call of duty - and everything that comes with that.
“Workaholics may feel addicted to work, have extreme difficulty switching off from work, and experience ... guilt and anxiety when they aren’t working.”
It can be a vicious cycle: spending too long at the office might start as a good way to earn more or fit in with company culture, but then workers get hooked on the fleeting highs of hitting goals, at the cost of their social and family lives.
Sometimes, these patterns are seeded more deeply: owing to perfectionism, certain conditions like ADHD, or examples set by parents.
“People who worry more, who are more open-minded, and more conscientious, are more at risk of being described as workaholics,” said Victoria University psychologist Professor Marc Wilson, who’s explored the issue.
“But there are also organisational factors: if you don’t know when you’ve done enough, you’re more likely to keep on going until you hope you have.
“And some of us love the ‘rush’ that comes from either being immersed in our work or seeing the products of it.”
Yet excessive work behaviour also came with a long list of bad outcomes, from high blood pressure and heart disease to mental distress and poor life satisfaction.
Studies have also drawn clear links between workaholism and marriages suffering.
Of the 15 people interviewed by University of Canterbury researchers, all reported clocking up 10- to 18-hour days, some up to 100-hour weeks – sometimes just for 40-hour weekly salaries.
“I work seven days a week,” one said, adding: “I have not had a day off, probably in like 10 years.”
That pattern was consistent, but the drivers behind it were complex and varied from person to person.
The toll on home life was apparent, with one participant speaking of working until 10pm or later each night.
“I was not reading my child’s bedtime story,” they said.
There were also some unexpected insights.
“It was surprising to hear partners of workaholics may support excessive work behaviours – thinking they are championing their loved one’s career and goals – and unwittingly exacerbate workaholism,” Kuntz said.
Another fascinating finding was that workaholics often reached “turning points” - be it physical burnout or a partner’s intervention – that broke the cycle.
“Workaholics may move into post-workaholism, where they feel less compulsion to work excessively,” the study’s leader, Dr Jack Hassell said, adding there was always potential for relapse.
For one person, simply discussing their former workaholism was enough to cause anxiety: “I don’t want it to come back, please.”
Human Resources Institute of New Zealand chief executive Nick McKissack said workaholism wasn’t just a risk to individuals, but also to employers.
The institute advised companies to ensure employees knew what was expected of them – and for managers to be receptive to their wellbeing needs.
“Workaholism is not solely a product of individuals just trying to achieve highly,” McKissack said.
“This is a deeper problem that is rooted in toxic work culture and can result in burnout and talent loss.”
Hassell would like to see society reframing workaholism.
“Telling workaholics that ‘it’s just a strong work ethic’ is unhelpful and potentially harmful,” he said.
“With more understanding in research and society, we will be able to see workaholism as something that we attend to with care and consideration, and a condition that can be addressed proactively.”
Jamie Morton is a specialist in science and environmental reporting. He joined the Herald in 2011 and writes about everything from conservation and climate change to natural hazards and new technology.