If Hard Isn't Working... Try Easy

Someone gave me a word of advice recently. He said: if hard isn't working, try easy. Simple. Sounds fairly simple anyway.

Though it certainly flaunts my own conventional wisdom which runs more along the lines of: If it's really really hard, like makes you bleed and want to tear your hair out hard, it MUST be really worthwhile. And you will be rewarded in the end. 


I don't know where I got this line of thinking but it has pervaded everything I do in my life. In fact, if something feels too easy, I assume it must not be worthwhile at all. I'm certain that this is somehow a family cultural thing that has gotten passed down to me (something to do with Jews and guilt and being generally negative and pessimistic?), and then was sharpened while I was a gymnast. Especially in the later years. Boy did it get hard. And I kept going. Assumedly because my hypothesis was: if I suffer through this, I will be rewarded in the end. If I last these 4 years without eating any food so I can maintain this artificially low weight, if I can drag this shattered ankle around the gym to get through the next competition, if I can withstand the depression and anxiety eating away at me... well...it's gonna be good. Good how, I'm not sure.

This line of thinking sounds eerily similar to the 72 virgins that await a Muslim man in Heaven provided he can endure the slings and arrows of his righteous but suffering-filled life. Hmmm.

I wasn't all wrong though. There was good. This punishment/reward position of mine was honed when I won the 1986 National Championships. With a bum ankle, a newly healed (kind of) femur, an empty stomach and questionable state of mental well-being. It was hard getting through that competition. And "hard" would be the understatement of my life. I honestly don't think I've done anything that hard since. And that was joyous. Truly, I mean that. Winning that competition was one of the most profound and proud moments of my life. (The backlash came after - almost immediately so - when I suffered the pointed shame of believing I hadn't deserved it; this still pricks from time to time if I think about it too hard.) So there. It was settled. Pain & punishment endured = Reward & Joy.

I took this forward into my life. I've put into practice ever since. At work, I've been in positions where I've been banging my head against the proverbial wall. I had to have that next promotion. I worked and worked. And the powers that be told me: you're not getting it. And I thought: Oh yeah. You don't mean that. I can work harder than anyone you've ever seen. You think this is hard? This ain't nothing. At least I get to eat lunch. And dinner. And I'm not in a cast. I'll get it alright.

I didn't get it. Didn't get that coveted VP job I so badly wanted back in 2006 or 07 or whatever year it was. Eventually I stopped climbing over that wall. And I decided to get down and gather myself. I took a different job, in another department, and it ended up leading to that big gig I'd wanted to badly. I essentially "walked around" the wall, instead of climbing over it. Or at least that's how I see it. I tried easy. It worked. But I did not learn my lesson.

My marriage is another example of this. It was hard. Really hard. For both of us. We didn't want the same things, fundamental things like more children. We didn't want to live the same ways. But god how I loved him. Still do. But it was hard. He could be sullen (not that I couldn't be), withdrawn, angry, inexpressive, unaffectionate, he didn't work. Didn't want to go on vacation, or anywhere for that matter. Our lives were constrained to the Haight in San Francisco, for the most part. But that big brain of his turned me on. And when he smiled, or I made him laugh (a relative rarity)... boy did I think that was the worthwhile payback. Until that rarely happened. And all there was was silence and anger. Still I sat in that for a long time. I believed, this is hard but that means our relationship is all the more worthwhile than those dumb easy loving ones. Phhttt.

Until I couldn't do it anymore. I was losing my mind. A near breakdown last year prompted me to walk out the door. If only to gather myself and not be around anger and criticism for a moment. I needed connection. Intimacy. Belonging. So I left. The failure of my life. Shame spiral... settle in.

And that was the hardest thing I ever did. But staying would have been harder. I would have had to buckle up and settle in to a life devoid of connection, support, outwardly and positively expressed love. One that was infused with blackness and aggression and near hatred. (Ironically, now that we are apart, I can send love his way again, and I feel affection sent back to me, if only through a kind word of support now and then.)

And so I suppose, as hard as it has been, I chose easy. Now easy is relative. But easier than a lifetime of sadness and loneliness. And when I'm feeling overwhelmed and overcome with grief, as I am from time to time STILL, I choose easy. I stop fighting myself. I surrender. I believe that this will get better. And I choose to feel happy. To feel grateful for the peace I have in my life now. For my kids being happy and having endured this like true champs. For having a friendly relationship with my ex. For having a job I like and a passion I can't live without (words - writing and reading).

We'll see how this goes. So far so good. Easy isn't technically easy. Easy is relative, in the end. But I'm going to consciously choose "easy" and see where it gets me. I think the happiness balance will find a more even state of being in this new place - easy street - that I am attempting to reside.