Yes, it’s Hard--but Here Are 5 Compelling Reasons To Choose Effort Over “Easy”

We all know hard work pays off. Why do we hope it will be “easy”?

I recently heard myself complaining to an old friend, “It’s doesn’t get any easier.” We were talking about the pandemic. But it could have been anything-work, socializing, taking care of yourself. Isn’t everything different and more difficult?

But as the Buddhists say: Don’t argue with reality. Change — whether it's universally disruptive or far less dramatic — always brings challenges. It’s never easy.

As I share at the end of this piece, the pay-off is well worth the price of hard work. First, allow me to use my own life to illustrate.

My Work

The pandemic drove me indoors, got me writing again. It was that or more television. I love to write, but I haven’t written every day since 2016 when I “took a break” from a several-decade habit. Since April, I’ve been groping my way through an unfamiliar and unfathomable forest, the place where writers now dwell. I’m not sure what’s beyond the trees.

Writing makes me happy. My fingers dance on the keys almost as fast as I think. But, please, don’t mistake that for easy. Writing is hard work. Every blank page asks something different about me.

I think of the beginning as “the pencil circling stage” — a throwback to a time when I scribbled out the first draft on a yellow pad. My hands hover over a keyboard now, but I might as well be clutching a pencil, poised an inch above the paper. I make little circles in the air. The idea is there, but the point doesn’t touch the page. I see only blankness. Finally, the pencil lands and the first word is written.

That first word is followed by the next and the next and the next. Words will be replaced, repositioned, whole paragraphs repurposed. Modern writers who hope to be read-better yet, go viral-must also create “snippets” and coin “key phrases” to lure those pesky search-engine “bots.”

As a novice long ago, I imagined that “someday” writing would become easier. I now know better.

I have become a better writer. I know the pitfalls. I take my lumps. But it’s always hard work. (I tweaked and saved this piece over thirty times before publishing it!)

My Social Life

I’ve built a career studying relationships. I have many myself and thus lots of opportunities to practice. But is making and sustaining relationships easy? Hell, no. Good relationships, even casual ones, take time, energy, and hard work.

Relationships are “of” the two, a magical comingling of what each of you brings to the table. This is true whether it’s your partner, children, grandchildren, extended family, close friends or consequential strangers.

In the best relationships, you are honest and present. You are part of a “We,” but you hold on to your “I.” You know where you end and the other begins. You can let yourself be vulnerable enough to own your part in every exchange because there is trust.

Even if you “get” these secrets of a good relationship, it’s never a matter of effortlessly applying them. People change; their relationships change. Life comes at you, often without warning. Every day, you face new challenges, new choices. He says something you don’t like. She does something you’d never do. What do you do in response?

Instead of disagreeing, criticizing, leaving, sulking, or trying to reform the other person, you stop and take a breath. In that moment, you remind yourself that you have no control over — nor the ability to change — anyone but yourself. So you look at where you are at this moment. And before you respond, you ask yourself, “Is what I’m about to do say or do next going to improve this relationship or hurt it?

Obviously, taking the road that leads to “better” will strengthen your relationship. But it is not easy.

How I Care For Myself

My most powerful elixir is food. I think about food even when I’m not eating, preparing, or happily serving it to friends. In part, that’s because I grew up in a food family. Butchering is in my bones!

But is it easy? No, it takes thought, time, and of course, hard work.

I’m vigilant about food. Garbage in, garbage out. Plan, select, sort, store-a never-ending cycle. I “rotate” items on the shelves. Recently bought items to the rear, please!

I didn’t live through the Depression, but the abundance of my childhood was tempered by its shadow and by the plight of the less fortunate.

“The children in Europe are starving” my mother would remind me as I picked at my dinner. When we went to a restaurant, I heedlessly “filled up” on bread and barely ate the meal. The leftovers were always brought home.

Although my mother didn’t live long enough to know me as an adult with a hearty appetite, she seeded my kitchen habits. Like her, I wipe jars before putting them back in the fridge. I invented “garbage soup” rather than “waste” anything. Admittedly, I don’t bake three-tiered confections to serve “the girls” over mah-jong nor, like my mother, I spend big chunks of my time in the kitchen. The clean-up is a drudge. But it’s part of the whole.

Why Chose Hard Work Over “Easy”?

Hard work pays off. But I have to admit I whine sometimes. It’s not fair. I don’t wanna do it. I’m tired. This is boring. This is too much work. What am doing this for? In other words, the “committee” is in session.

I know you’ve been there, too. It takes grit and a bit of self-talk to get yourself to hunker down. But you slog through the confusion and the difficulty because…

1. You’re a realist. Life isn’t supposed to be easy. We don’t learn without stumbling. We don’t stretch ourselves without taking risks. So how can it be easy all the time? You know this. That’s why you’re grateful for the rare moments of equilibrium and grace you enjoy. They make the “hard” parts easier to handle.

2. Hard work pays off. Success is often linked with hard work. It’s no guarantee, of course, but effort is never wasted. If nothing else, you progress from here to there which is much better than standing still. And you learn something. You also exercise your hard-work muscles: determination, perseverance, grit. You get better at hanging in, even when it’s hard. High-school basketball coach Tim Notke believes that sometimes, hard work always wins:

Hard work beats talent when talent doesn’t work hard.

3. You love the process. The tasks and tolls along the way don’t feel like work, because this is what you want to do with your time. Sure, when you have to do a more routine or not particularly pleasant part of the job-for this writer, it’s social-media chores-you roll your eyes and sigh, I hate this. It feels difficult, confusing, or mind-numbing, but you suck it up. It’s part of the job-a job you’ve chosen.

4. You come out the other side. When I finish an article or book, I feel — and often say this out loud — “it’s the best high in the world.” The more challenging the project, the more rewarded I feel. The same holds true for Thanksgiving dinner. Even when friends bring side dishes, the full meal takes at least four days to prepare. So much shopping, so many ingredients, so many cook-times to remember. It’s just roast turkey, stuffing, gravy, and carrot soufflé-but there’s no meal quite like it.

5. You feel a deep — dare I say, spiritual — satisfaction. You’re doing what you were put on this earth to do. When you truly work at something, even if it feels like it’s just for you, your higher self applauds. Every task you complete, every job well done, every act of creation connects you to the universe. That’s cause for celebration.

A human being is a part of a whole, called by us universe, a part limited in time and space. He experiences himself, his thoughts and feelings as something separated from the rest… a kind of optical delusion of his consciousness. This delusion is a kind of prison for us, restricting us to our personal desires and to affection for a few persons nearest to us. Our task must be to free ourselves from this prison by widening our circle of compassion to embrace all living creatures and the whole of nature in its beauty.

When I put out a piece of writing that helps others solve a problem, when I smile and say “thank you” to a bus driver or bring homemade soup to a sick friend, I am reminded me that I am but a tiny piece of a much larger whole.

No, it’s not easy. And sometimes it’s downright hard. But how wonderful it is to believe that you matter and that your hard work — your positive energy — might play a small part in bettering the cosmic conversation and contributing to the greater good.

Originally published at https://melindablau.com on March 29, 2021.

If you like what you’ve read, by all means…

• Subscribe to my blog. (I won’t charge you or share your email)
• Read — and send questions to — “Dear Family Whisperer,” which first appeared on Huffington Post. It no longer publishes the column, but I’m still here!
• Follow me on Twitter, Facebook, LinkedIn, or Instagram — or simply go to LinkTree for all of them!