A family legacy, a silver coin and an aha moment have Edie Weinstein putting the puzzle pieces together to figure out how she became a workaholic.
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I am my father’s daughter in so many ways. Oldest of two, born of a blue collar dad and pink collar mom; I have a workaholic streak a mile long. I used to deny how severe the addiction to busy buzzy doing was by referring to myself as ‘recovering Type A workaholic’. Not even close to being in recovery. I am often up before the sun peeks its sleepy head out from under cloud cover and my own head sometimes doesn’t hit the pillow until the moon is high in the sky. I have rarely had one job at a time and in my current state, I can count two part time counseling jobs, a wedding ministry, numerous free lance writing gigs, a speaking/teaching business and a radio show.
The Urban Dictionary could have my picture next to this definition of the term Solopreneur:
“An entrepreneur who works alone, “solo,” running their business single-handedly. They might have contractors for hire, yet have full responsibility for the running of their business.
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Where did my wheel spinning, frenetic activity in an effort to bring in the green stuff come from?
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My inheritance goes beyond money in the bank. It is overflowing with memories of a man who showered the people he loved with love.
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