Who do you disappoint when you fail? Is it your God, who you believe has placed you on this planet to be industrious and productive? Maybe he has, but it doesn’t seem like you’re grieving at every second that you’re not “at work.” There’s no addiction to it, from what I can tell. Is it your parents? Friends? Those who love you and hate you? I don’t see you value their opinions in the slightest on every other matter, so even if you’re disappointing them, that shouldn’t affect you.
One possible explanation I want you to ponder is pride. When you lose a game, it’s as if your ego has been damaged and your existence blemished by yet another failure. You seem to view nearly every mishap in this light—that somehow, your story is not as glorious as it might otherwise be. Not as triumphant. Even in your search for work and purpose, you are frustrated because you don’t live up to the legends of Jobs, Chanel, Fischer, O’Sullivan, Da Vinci, or anyone close to them.
But how misplaced is your focus that you want to write your story based on these people you so admire? How intentional can you be about your life path before it becomes narcissistic and detrimental to your existence? You disappoint nobody but yourself. To hell with the idea that you are destined for anything—greatness or doom. Your trying to predict where you will end up is futile. You have your work today and today only. What else is there to worry about? Be more like the lilies which don’t toil than the two kings with their hearts bent at evil—for if you are more like the latter, it will be to no avail.*
*See Matthew 6:28 and Daniel 11:27.