Come on, it's not so hard. Have you ever told someone something like that? You almost certainly meant well. However, think about the last time someone told you the same thing. Try to recall how you felt at the time. It's quite possible they meant well... but how much did it actually help you to believe in yourself?
A close friend of mine is a teacher of small children. It's always interesting to me to see how the things she learns as part of her profession translate to the adult world. It's not really all that surprising if you think about it, since children really are just little people. Some time ago, she shared a little bit of what she learned in a communication workshop: that it is important not to diminish or trivialise a person's feelings when talking to them. Instead, we should validate those feelings, strive to empathise, and respond in a way that takes their perspective into account instead of dismissing it. However, we often fall short of this, and manage to effectively tell the person that they are wrong about what they are feeling, or even worse, that they are wrong, to feel that way. Ever heard someone say: don't cry; don't be sad? Ever said it yourself? Oooops!
A great example of this principle can be found when encouraging someone to undertake a task which they find exceedingly difficult. They may come to you and say... "I can't do it." If you are like me, before I was prompted to think about this, you may answer something like: "Aww, it's not that hard. You can do it." This may sound perfectly supportive to you, and it certainly is not the worst thing you could say in this situation, but there are two major problems with it that could be solved by channeling that same supportive energy into more appropriate words of encouragement.
The first problem is with the trivialisation of their anxiety. The person you are trying to encourage is scared of the challenge they face. They find it difficult. They are struggling. When you say that it is "not that hard," you are attempting to make that challenge smaller for them, but that's not going to work. They're already facing it; they're already experiencing it in a way that only they can. Even if you have faced a similar challenge before, your subjective experience is your own and it is therefore completely useless to them at this moment in time.
Words are hard. We did not materialise on this planet speaking to each other. Like everything else that came into existence through slow evolution... language and communication are imperfect, extremely broken even. We don't always say what we mean, even if we're trying. So, if someone has ever told you something is "not that hard," remember that they probably did not mean to trivialise the problem you are facing. It may be what you felt, but they didn't mean to do that to you. They only meant to tell you that you could do it; that you would succeed. They meant to encourage you to try despite how hard it is, because they believed in you.
Instead, though, they probably did not help much at all, or at least it came down to being "the thought that counts." You may have understood that they meant well and benefited from their encouraging attitude. It's likely, however, that any encouragement you received was at least partially offset by the sudden self-doubt and uncertainty they introduced. They said it's not hard. I don't know. Maybe I am just dumb, or weak. Maybe that's why it seems so hard to me. Invalidating someone's anxiety will not make it go away; it will only make them feel more alone in their struggle. Even worse, if they do try, if they do succeed, they will face the consequences of the the other major problem:
You will be robbing them of a sense of accomplishment. If you play video games, you know that traditionally, there is usually some way that the difficulty is adjusted or allowed to increase. Either the game has specific difficulty settings, or it starts out easy but gets harder over time, or both. Some games dynamically adjust the difficulty according to the observed skill of the player or players. Most multiplayer games attempt to match opponents of similar skill levels. There is a reason things are done this way: gamers like a challenge. Their skill levels vary, but at the end of the game, they want to feel like they accomplished something.
It's not only gamers that feel this way; it is all of us. We all find value in that sense of accomplishment when we finish something, and the intensity of that sense of accomplishment does not rely on our perception of our ability. Instead, we value our accomplishments by how difficult we perceive them to be. These things may go hand-in-hand, but they are distinct concepts. We feel most accomplished not when we feel that we are small, but rather when we feel that our challenge was big.
Convincing someone that their challenge is small, even if successful, will only result in them feeling a sense of relief that they were able to pull it off. Don't they deserve more than that? Don't they deserve to feel pride and accomplishment; to build self-esteem which will carry them through their future challenges?
Don't try to discourage the challenge. You can't do that. The challenge is not aware of your attempt to diminish it. Instead, encourage the person facing it. Don't try to make the battle feel smaller; try instead to make the combatant feel bigger. They'll feel so much more encouraged that you believe in them, and they'll feel so much more accomplished when they're done.
By the way. If you're reading this, and you're facing a difficult challenge yourself... guess what I'm about to say to you? You can do difficult things. We all can. Each and every one of us faces challenges and struggles of all shapes and sizes. Those things are hard. They're exhausting. They threaten to beat us into submission; even to change the very essence of who we are and make us bitter. Don't let them. Rage against them, conquer them, and rise above... then do it all over again with the next thing.
Yes, it is that hard. But you can do it anyway.Ā š
