“I can’t do this. It’s
too hard.”
The class was loud.
Thirty two students jammed into a tiny room, the space between desks so narrow
that winding your way through them often felt like you were navigating an
obstacle course. I patted Michael on the shoulder and repeated what I said at
least once a day at school. “I know. Just do your best, okay?”
I was chatting with my
wife later that night, and reflecting why there were so many things we told
kids that we didn’t tell each other as adults. I couldn’t remember the last
time someone had told me to just “do my best.” Oh, we offered encouragement
sometimes, usually phrasing it in an “adult” manner, like the suggestion we “pursue
excellence.” And jobs required results, didn’t they? It didn’t matter if a
person was allegedly ‘doing their best.’ If they couldn’t cut it, then changes
needed to be made.
The more I thought about it though, the less sense it
made. Most of us had jobs that were somewhat protected. As a self-employed
youth worker with no benefits, and before that, a self-employed trainer, I was
one of the few working in an environment with almost no protection. No union to
cover for my mistakes, no recourse if someone fired me. And yet, my chances of
getting fired were still slim. And if that was the case, why didn’t we
encourage each other more often by telling people – our friends, our employees,
our co-workers, our family – that all they needed to do was put forth their
best effort. That it was enough.
Aside from it sounding
like something we say to kids – and heaven forbid we sound “childish” – it
seemed to me that people felt adults needed to be motivated differently than
children. That they needed to be prodded and measured and disciplined without
needing simple reassurances. That applying childish axioms was just that,
childish.
And yet, in repeating
this simple idea to the kids over the past year, lately I started repeating it
to someone else. Me.
Did I do my best today?
Yes.
Am I
getting better?
Yes!
Today I learned something new, something I’d never seen before in my writing.
You
did well.
For me, the last five years had been challenging. Writing
a book and sending it out, only to see it rejected over and over and then willing
myself to get up the next morning and keep going even as my dream slipped
further into the Netherland of nothingness. At the best of times it was a
psychological slog, a long distance race without a finish line. It was the life
most artists faced, one we chose (and in some ways, had chosen for us), and one
we did not regret. And yet, when faced by this profound and utterly simple
idea, I found strength gathering within me, settling over my shoulders like a
cloak of warmth.
The Takeaway
You don’t
need to give more than you can.
You don’t need to carry more than you’re able.
You don’t need to bear a weight greater than your own.
Of all the things we
forget as we get older, perhaps the most prevalent is our understanding of
“getting better.” Or perhaps I should say, our LACK of understanding. We speak
often of attaining things, like a new car or a new house. Or, we speak of
possible achievements: a promotion at work, a gallery showing, writing a best
seller. And in so doing, we forget about the simple beauty of improvement. Of
doing our job more efficiently, regardless of who notices. Or learning more about our
loved ones so we can be a better dad or a better friend. Why is it that society
tells us to measure our life by achievement and accumulation when we tell our
children to measure their success by their effort?
Perhaps it’s time for
us to do the same. This week, take a look at the areas in your life you find
most frustrating, whether it’s your job or a relationship or something else.
Ask yourself this question: am I doing the best I can? Forget the past. Forget
the mistakes we all make in our lives. Just be honest with yourself.
Am I doing all I can do
at work?
Do my kids get my best
effort?
Is my wife getting all
I can give her?
I say I want to be a
writer. Am I doing everything I can to make it?
If the answer is yes,
then take a few minutes to congratulate yourself. Buy yourself a treat. Take
yourself shopping or something else that you would consider a reward. Be aware
of your effort, and notice how different the world seems when we recognize our
humanity. When we acknowledge that there is only so much we can do. How much
brighter the days are when we don’t spoil this beautiful life with unattainable
expectations.
You did your best, now
celebrate. It’s time for recess.
-Steve
