I remember when I was having a really rough time at work. My boss was pressuring me into leaving due to repeated underperformance, and I was working well into the night and all of my weekends, for a solid year and a half.

One day I came back from work fully dejected, feeling like a useless sack of dumb crap. My roommate asked me what was up and why we never hang out.

I told him that it was all just a bit too much. His reaction: “man up, or quit.” The automatic lack of sympathy stunned me a little, though he might have been right that I really should have just quit. (Full story: I didn’t, it did get better, and I even turned some of my detractors into friends, but it was a long road, and I definitely have an unhealthy relationship with work.)