I believe it was Malcolm Gladwell who said in his book, Outliers, that it takes 10,000 hours of practice to get really amazing at something, that talent is only a small fraction of what it takes to be a master. People have said to me before, "Oh, if only I was as talented as you I would go back to school" (or write a book or make a scarf or whatever), which, let me tell you right now, is complete baloney. Talent has absolutely nothing to do with it. Yes, I work full-time while raising two kids and doing my Masters and teaching yoga and volunteering in my community and cooking all our meals and making art. This is not because I'm a good person and it is certainly not because I was born with a special gift. There are many many days I feel angry, anxious, overworked, overwhelmed, taken advantage of, and exhausted. There is nothing admirable about hiding in the bathroom hyperventilating over a ruined dinner and hurt feelings, trust me. So sometimes I just want to shake these people and say, "Hello! If you took all the time you spend playing on your phone (or watching reality TV or gaming or whatever) and put it towards a goal you really cared about I guarantee that you can achieve it (barring natural disaster or death). But see these worry lines and grey hairs and my nervous tic? Yeah, well, you'll look like me, they come with the territory.
Some people just like to take it easy. And that's great for them, if they are happy doing it. Most days I wish I had an off-switch. Sometimes I wish I just didn't give a f*ck about anybody or anything. Believe me, if I could find the "detach" button on my neck I would take the whole damn head right off. I like the idea of me on a beach listening to reggae. But the reality is that I would spend all my "free time" on the beach snorkeling and looking up fish species in a nature guide and doing yoga and picking up trash and reading books and swimming and playing in the waves and organizing some sort of beach protection activist group and teaching myself to surf. I would spend only 2% of my time in the hammock napping. That is who I am. I like to take the hard way.
Why? Well, that's the million dollar question, but I think a lot of it comes back to my parents and the way I was raised. The ability to defer gratification is a badge of honor in my family. As well as the ability to endure emotional anguish in exchange for originality and independence (I think Murakami expressed a similar sentiment in his memoir, What I Talk About When I Talk About Running). I have not always been this way. I used to smoke. And overeat. I used to be a horrible procrastinator (and still am occasionally...in fact I'm avoiding writing a paper by writing this blog post!). But slowly, with time and maturity, I'm only now beginning to realize that it's the really hard stuff in life that is the most rewarding in the long term. Maintaining boundaries in relationships. Carrying a child in utero and then pushing it out while experiencing the kind of pain for which there is no words. And then loving and caring for that child even when they make you want to drink all the vodka in the house before noon. Writing a thesis and getting an A. Selling a painting you struggled with to someone who loves it dearly and thanks you for making it. Writing, even when you don't want to, even when you say you can't. Making the conscious choice to breathe instead of following the impulse to act out in anger (even if your husband is really getting on your nerves).
There is no feeling that can compare to the elation and lasting sense of accomplishment I feel when I finish a course, or complete that last stitch on a dress I've been slowly working away on for months, or bite into a delicious dinner. The temporary high from drugs just don't compare. And like any good people-pleaser, I enjoy accolades and recognition for my hard work, but secretly I know I would be like this in a vacuum. Alone on a deserted island I would still be on that damn beach classifying rocks and cataloguing them into different piles. I'm intrinsically motivated. The process is as important as the end result. I love making things, but I like the act of making the thing as much as the finished product. I want to be emotionally invested in whatever I'm undertaking or I'm miserable and it's a tough slog to the other side (and totally hell to live with me).
So, all this to say, Thanks Mum. Thanks for not letting me quit when the going got tough. Thanks for being an example of strength and resilience in the face of more shit than any one life should dish out. Thanks Dad, for teaching me to live within my means. For supporting me through all my crazy plans and ideas and false starts and complete disasters. And I also needed to remind myself that sometimes, when the going gets tough, you just need a plan. Sit down, write, and you'll find yourself again. Breathe. Come home to your heart. There's no map for the hard way, you just figure it out as you go along. And to those of you on your own hard journeys, with your own seemingly impossible goals, I'll see you on the other side, because I know you'll get there.
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