There are times your goal is visible, and it seems, just out of reach. If I can push myself a little longer, you think, and so you do.
You push. Hard. You develop a habit of pushing yourself that becomes the routine of your mornings and your afternoons, the standard transition into night’s long hours, the cycle of just enough sleep to start it all over again though you recognize the deficit and keep going nonetheless.
You’re on a deadline, but you don’t process the word fully. Dead. Line.
The treadmill
I’ve been running the race for decades. Pushing myself, not just for what I want, but to survive. Pushing to make a buck. Pushing to pay bills. Pushing to raise my children. Well.
I am always driving myself to create more, help more, accomplish more. This is the substance of my upbringing: set ambitious goals, expect to meet them, demand superior results, then move the bar – again. But at times, I feel like the hamster on the wheel, trapped and running as a way of life.
So while I consider myself an example of perseverance, what else am I teaching my children?
Am I modeling a frenetic pace? Disregard for physical limits? Am I setting the bar too high, or too high too often – falling into a mindless mantra of achievement rather than a mindful one?
I soothe myself by seeing the message as necessary and positive: I can do it, I am advancing. But at what cost?
Managing fatigue as a life skill?
It was a weekend of pushing through paperwork, through required writing, and technology problems that worsened as I went along. At 2 a.m. I said goodnight to my son who was pushing toward a goal of his own, to complete an art project as part of a scholarship competition.
When you’re the hamster in the cage, it helps if you are not alone. You exchange encouragement with the one at your side: “We’re almost there, the goal is in sight, we can do it.” But when it is your child running the race, your words will falter, your tone will change, and you will counsel him to consider alternatives.
Five a.m. wake up call
My son has been getting by on one hour, three hours, four hours of sleep a night, with the exception of weekends when time affords him a little more latitude. This morning when I checked on him he was up and sick, apparently since just after five.
School? Out of the question. As for his attempt to add to his portfolio, equally so.
- Are some of us wired to push ourselves beyond reason?
- Is it learned behavior – from parents and friends?
- Is it counterproductive if not properly managed?
As I charge through a schedule of seven days a week of writing and project work, shoring up infrastructure for my son in his heavy workload, and tell myself this is mandatory duty – I worry about the wake up call. When it will come. The way it will come.
Spinning my wheels
Twelve hours of yesterday was spent following instructions on a page, links on a site, directives of four support reps, a thread in a forum, then more time fixing everything that broke as the result of following all but one of those conflicting voices. Talk about spinning your wheels, and getting nowhere. It was time I could ill afford.
Eventually I returned to my starting point, deeming the day a total disaster. I was worn out, and accomplished nothing. Yet this morning, I realize that by virtue of everything done that never worked, I learned what not to do. While I didn’t make my objective, nor was I solely spinning my wheels.
Modeling determination, worrying about excess
Glancing at the scattered pastels on the piano bench, the pencil shavings on the floor, the stunning image on the table – not quite completed – I recognize my son’s progress during the night. Though he didn’t make his objective, he should be proud, as I am, of his work ethic, his determination, and his skill.
There will always be days and nights of spinning our wheels, but I would be less than honest if I didn’t admit that I’m concerned about my example. There is no denying the extensiveness of my load, but somehow, I need to work smarter rather than harder. And learn when to yield to no – as the only way to get to an ultimate, healthier yes.
Some lessons take forever to learn. Breaking out of conditioning, the way we were raised, society’s expectations, knowing what truly matters, being true to oneself — all things i’d like to pass on to my child.
Belinda – thoughtful as ever. Yet some of these issues – conditioning, expectations, knowing what matters – they are conflicting. Sorting through them at any point in time is a challenge, isn’t it? What we pass on to our children, so complex, and always changing.
Apparently we are thinking along similar lines today. 🙂 But I’m actually so grateful that you take it in this direction, because this is important food for thought that I hadn’t considered. The behaviour I am modelling for my children in trying to be good and do it all. I’ve said often that I don’t want a life like mine for them, that I want them to feel more free to enjoy, less encumbered. But I’ve not shown them the way. Of course I have lots of time, so I’m glad to have had this lightbulb shine today. Thank you as always for being a guardian angel my friend.
Learning to work smarter, not harder. Yes. Art, it seems to me, often defies reasoning about time. When the urge comes, you create. But, the life of a student (or wage earner of any sort) rarely affords the slack to recover from creative excess.
That said, sometimes health must come before productivity. Finding realistic goals, that allow us to accommodate for the unexpected – oh, it is beyond me.
“Art… often defies reasoning about time.”
You couldn’t have said a truer statement, Kate! And that’s one of the struggles with my son (and time management). He can no more not give 300% to a work of art than I can to a piece of writing. Except, as an adult, I’ve learned to discern when writing must be “good enough” (though I loathe that standard for anything), versus “the best I can make it.” And those priorities change of course, as situations and choices force them to.
A teenager isn’t there yet. It’s hard enough for an adult, isn’t it? And ideas? And for anticipating the unexpected?
Being willing to work hard, setting your goals high, having confidence in your ability to do “it” are all admirable. However. Lack of sleep contributes to mistakes, frustration, wearing down of the immune system. Losing time because you’re sick is counter-productive. Perhaps allowing yourself some slack will improve your chances of accomplishing what you want.
You said it, Carol. On all counts.
@Christine – the issue of “free to enjoy” and “less encumbered” is so tricky. So much is culturally and socially ordained, that short of walking away from the typical “everything,” I wonder how we manage to find a place of moderation for ourselves and our kids. I don’t know what the social framework is in Canada, but in the US – you can work for years but if you lose your job, there go the benefits, and in relatively short order, everything will spiral downward. So to climb back out – for yourself or your kids – requires double duty, triple duty, any duty just to keep going.
I compare that to Europe – at least the countries where I’ve lived or spent time. A mother has a child and then the option to take up to a year of sabbatical – not 6 weeks as in the US. Vacation is 4 to 6 weeks as a standard, not 2 weeks, after you’ve worked a year for each employer. (Thus, if you change employers, as with other benefits, you start back at zero.) Just those two factors alone change the complexion of family life – not to mention that if you lose a job, you don’t have to fear not being able to see a doctor, a dentist, etc., not to mention losing your home.
All of which is to say – it’s more complex than an individual’s choices or intention. We want our children to pursue their dreams, but that’s harder to do (for all of us) than it once was. We want them to know the love of family, but family time is perpetually squeezed. Where does that leave us? Hoping to win the lottery and remove the issue of money from the equation?
And anyone who thinks money isn’t a major factor is wearing blinders – certainly – in this country.
I wish I had good answers for both of us, Christine. (Insert weary smile ______.) For you, where you are in your parenting and career. For each of us in our different stages, feeling a little shredded – perhaps by too many choices, or perhaps by lack of infrastructure for any of them – including emotional infrastructure – and a big cultural hug that says “there is no right answer, and you are not alone.”
I no longer believe in routines. Well, maybe I will once I emerge from this fog of whatever. Ha! But, I remember feeling absolute despair when Andrew was little that I couldn’t get my butt out of bed in the morning to run off that extra fat (which didn’t exist) because he was up all night. I felt awful.
Then I came to an epiphany: Rather than shape my day before it begins, why not let it shape itself? This doesn’t always produce blissful days, but it does ease my Mommy guilt.
I remember my college days as an art student. Long labs, longer nights, critiques, portfolio reviews, etc. Many nights before a project there wasn’t any sleep to be had at all. Added to the rest of my academic schedule, the stress on mind, body and spirit became almost unmanageable. But I agree with Carol. Pushing too hard will unravel everything gained if you’re not careful. You can temporarily survive on candy bars and soda, but not without sleep! 😀
I would love to see some of your son’s projects. Would you post some of them?
Art students have a surprising workload (which people don’t expect). Couple that with a hefty academic load, and it ain’t easy. Sounds like you’ve been down that road. (Maybe you have some artwork to post – or have you on your site?)
Pushing too hard does cause things to unravel, when you push for extended periods. Yes. Sometimes it’s a risk we take, because we feel we haven’t a choice.
As for posting my son’s work, that’s another matter. I think there were a few of his drawings from many years ago in one post (I forget which), but in an effort to respect his privacy, he’d have to be okay with it.
I remember long days as a graduate student, my mind so intent on getting that paper degree. I worked hard, but I didn’t work smart. I didn’t analyze why I was doing what I was doing. I would say if you are working hard and if its your life’s passion, there is nothing wrong with dedicating your time to it. I hope to impart that lesson to my daughter.
Interesting that you raise the issue of grad school, Rudri. Going after the paper degree. Did you love what you were doing, or were you intent on doing it – with or without a passion for it?
I know for me, undergrad was such a different experience from grad school. Both were challenging, but I adored most of undergrad. I loved the people I was studying with. The faculty were amazing. The subject matter was my passion. Grad school was very different – parts of it I enjoyed. Other parts, misery. It was about getting the degree and the doors it would open. There was more time spent spinning my wheels rather than working smart or even working with passion.