It’s obviously difficult to work hard. It’s not even something that we sugarcoat. Putting effort and sweat and sleepless nights into something is a lot. We sometimes break down along the way, we cry, we rant, we nag, and we do so many other things that aren’t even coming to mind. In the end, we say hard work takes a lot from us.
But after an experience I had, I think we forget something else. We forget that giving up is actually equally difficult. Let me just interrupt with my experience. Yesterday, I told you all about how I’ve been working on one particular thing for years.
I didn't add the part where I actually gave up along the line. So the whole point of me giving up was because I was tired of working so hard on the same thing all the time. I legit thought that I was going to give up and then rest and then forget about everything and then live life and then, you know….
But it was the complete opposite. The very first day I decided that yes! I have given up, my sleepless nights doubled. My tears tripled. The sweat? Quadrupled. Everything else started multiplying. And it wasn’t even intentional or conscious.
I would stay up all night being so sad about the whole project. And as I said earlier on, I thought I was supposed to rather forget everything and just be sleeping comfortably, but each time I put my head on my pillow at night, it felt like my memory was being jolted, and all I would see were flashbacks of me working on the project. Nobody can tell me that’s not torture.
Those flashbacks would remind me of so many things, but most importantly, the fact that I didn’t succeed. Which wasn’t even true because I didn’t finish the project, I gave up in the middle. And then I would be so mad at myself, starve myself, and detach myself from everything that makes me happy.
Each time I remembered that someone somewhere was also probably doing the same thing and maybe hadn’t succeeded yet but was still pushing, my heart would begin skipping beats, and then I would start sweating, and right after that, the feeling of being left behind would follow.
Oh and the tears? Each “how are you” from my mom was enough to remind me that I gave up, meaning I was a loser, quitter, name them. All the names we see in motivational quotes. I was always crying. Like always, literally.
Here’s where it gets interesting. I always say that I thank God for growth because maturity opened my eyes to let me see that giving up was even more difficult than working hard. Oh it wasn’t just difficult; it was equally damaging too. Emotionally, physically, and everythingally.
From that day, I just chose to go back to working on the project. After all, if giving up was going to be that traumatizing, then I would rather just choose the sleepless nights that came with working harder.
Images are mine
