I’ve always been frustrated by the word “workaholic.” Even if you wear the title as a badge of honor, others view the term as a one-way ticket to burnout. Many associate the term with its addictive connotations. And still, others view being a workaholic as some form of surrender, giving in to a lifestyle devoid of passion, where one only exists as a cog in some larger machine. Few would find being so dedicated relaxing, but in a world of constant uncertainty, I find being a workaholic provides balance and purpose.

I firmly believe there is a priori value in work as the byproduct of our…