Why Are Things Harder Than They Should Be?
Reframing the internalized stress of pursuing goals
What would it be like if it was easy?
The goal would be straightforward and achievable with a clear plan. Uncertainty would be minimal, and progress would be easy to measure. There would be no significant obstacles, and only a few hours would be required. Success would always feel within reach.
Internally, there would be no stress.
None.
No oscillating between states of sleep and wakefulness when tossing and turning in bed. No feelings of imposter syndrome or the creeping suspicion of life being a farce. No fears of consequence, uncertainty, nor judgement.
Progress would come quickly - no need to be a tangled ball of stress harnessed for productivity.
In a blink of the eye, all the required work would be done.
Sounds great doesn’t it?
But that’s not entirely realistic...
Or is it?
While we may never force reality to bend towards simplicity, we can make a deliberate push to prevent things from being harder than they should be.
How hard is it to run a marathon? At least as hard as the physical training and the act of running a marathon.
How hard is it to build a mobile app? At least as hard as the system design, coding, and debugging required to do so.
How hard is it to learn a new language? At least as hard as it is to pronounce all the foreign syllables, string sentences together, and have conversations.
It is without a doubt that the fundamental mechanics of these things are difficult. Consistent effort over long periods of time is required to make progress.
But what makes these things harder than this baseline?
Our internal states.
It’s the mental anguish that comes when lacing the shoelaces to go on a 5 mile zone 2 run in the early morning before work.
It’s the overwhelming doubt that the app will be of any use and excessively planning in response.
It’s the fear of looking like an obtuse idiot when ordering food in that new language.
Our inner voices make these things we want to accomplish harder than they should be. We plant monsters under our own beds and subconsciously increase the difficulty of getting out of bed to do anything in the first place. Then, when we finally start to do anything, we over perceive how much pain there is involved to get anything done.
And for what?
Why do we do this to ourselves over and over again?
For me, there appears to be two components to this equation.
The first part is fear - the common ones that everyone else probably experiences. Nothing is new here.
The second part is the extreme expectations to perform up to my own standards.
Majority, if not all my stress, emanates from this singular source of fear that I am not living up to the potential I think I have in me intertwined with the creeping suspicion that I am a loser.
While I don’t worry too much about social castigation or the consequences of failing some exam or getting fired, I prioritize the internal contract of consistency I have with myself - that I am who I believe I am.
I am the judge, jury, and executioner of my self esteem. My efforts and results are the lawyers who duke it out in the courts; the freedom from external judgement is traded for a persistent inner tyrant.
I find myself tightly gripping at all times. My knuckles are tight, my jaw is clenched, and my mind is racing. I’m scared to let go, fearing that if I take a step back, the accumulated decade-long effort will be for naught. My ship would crash under the weight of regret that seeps through the cracks in my loosening hold.
The quiet late nights spent working spiral into gladiator battles. The fear of not making progress grow synonymous with the fear of being slit with a dagger and left to drown in the sand.
Why does it have to be like this?
I’ve done this all my life leading up to this point. And though I may not always win big in the way I’ve predicted, I’ve definitely achieved more than I ever thought possible when I was younger (which was not much).
Positive reinforcement is one hell of a teacher.
But does it really have to be like this?
The beautiful thing about work is that it doesn’t care.
The marathon doesn’t care how much we agonize while staring at our shoes.
The app doesn’t care how much we worry and plan.
The language doesn’t care how stupid we feel inside.
The work just cares about progress and completion.
Thus, is this self-inflicted suffering necessary?
No.
If that’s the case, why not loosen the grip? Why not smile a bit more? Why not have a bit more fun?
Certainly, we can make just as much progress without all our excessive self induced stress. We just need to put in the hours and put in the work. There’s nothing else to it.
The 10th late night in a row where we’ve spent secluded and typing away at the computer does not have to be painful. It just becomes painful because we make it out to be.
In the future, the present time — no matter how tough it feels — will be a time to reminisce about. It will be a time when joints don’t tire, when energy flows endlessly in a reservoir undimmed by sun, rain, or sleet, when youthful curiosity runs amok, chasing butterflies and anything intriguing, and when nothing is possessed but a boundless ambition for more.
The difficulties of the present, with its late nights, early mornings, and busy weekends, will be seen as chapters in the story of a journey toward the future.
Don’t overcomplicate this. Given a long enough time horizon, our future selves will see it in a positive light.
And when we look to the future to boldly conquer the next audacious goals, we know that we have overcome the current difficulties.
The present will just be another notch of evidence that we are who we say we are.