My dad woke up at 3 a.m. to deliver milk, then spent the rest of the day under the hood of cars. Two jobs, steady as gravity. Today is his birthday, and though he has been gone for 10 years now, I can’t think of a better way to celebrate than to say out loud: thank you dad (and mom) for my unrelenting work ethic!
My mom also drove that lesson home. She raised three of us while working from home long before “virtual” was anything more than science fiction; steady at her desk until I left for college, when she made her escape to an office.
Neither of my parents chased shiny objects; they just kept showing up steady and with their full selves. And I do that too… but my brain sometimes bails a few weeks or months in, leaving me to white-knuckle the rest or run.
That’s the paradox of ADHD and obsessive tendencies: I can fall in love with a new project faster than my dad could swap out a carburetor, but keeping that flame alive? That’s where it gets complicated.
The honeymoon period of a new job or fresh initiative is intoxicating. I’ll map out a bold vision, volunteer for committees, and crank out a strategy that makes people wonder if I’ve been secretly studying the org for years. Then the sparkle fades, the work becomes routine, and suddenly the engine sputters. What once felt like destiny starts feeling like drudgery.
It’s not just a work thing. Personally, I’ve had whole love affairs with food; three weeks of pho, then betrayal at the next sight of a noodle.
Hobbies that begin with a shopping spree and end with a half-finished sunflower painting or a box of yarn whispering “remember me?” from the closet.
Relationships that burn with intensity until they don’t. For people like me, obsession isn’t a character flaw, it’s how the brain fuels itself… big bursts at ignition, less so at the long commute.
The difference is my parents built lives around consistency. Their model taught me that showing up matters, even when the shine wears off. That’s where I’ve learned to stop blaming myself for the fizzle and instead design some scaffolding.
Small SKILLS that help carry momentum. NETWORKS of people who pull me back when my brain wanders. ACTIVITIES that rotate to keep novelty alive without leaving chaos behind. KNOWLEDGE that reminds me my wiring isn’t broken; it just needs better maintenance. That’s SNAK in action—fueling the ignition while giving yourself tools to keep the engine running.
So here’s the ask: Don’t measure your worth by whether you can stay in the honeymoon phase forever. That’s not where real work, or real life, happens. Pay attention to your patterns. Build the supports that help you carry past the spark. Because obsession is easy. Anyone can start something. The magic, the legacy, the part that actually matters is learning how to keep showing up, long after the shine is gone.
Happy Birthday, Dad. Thanks for teaching me how to keep the engine running!
