Don't Let Hardship Convince You It's All You'll Ever Get
An observation on resilience, exhaustion, and the possibility of an ordinary, peaceful life.
There's something particularly exhausting about having to rebuild your life repeatedly.
You find a job. You start earning money. You make plans. Maybe you even manage to put a little away.
Then something happens.
The job doesn't work out. The money disappears. An unexpected expense arrives. Something you worked hard to acquire has to be sold.
And there you are again.
Starting over.
People talk about resilience as though it's some magical quality that makes all of this worthwhile.
You're stronger now.
You've learned something.
You'll be better prepared next time.
Maybe.
But what happens when you're tired of being prepared for the next disaster?
What happens when you don't want another opportunity to demonstrate how much you can endure?
What happens when you just want things to work?
I'm Not Asking for the World
I don't want a mansion.
I don't need a luxury car, an expensive wardrobe, or a lifestyle that requires me to spend every waking hour maintaining it.
I want a job.
I want a paycheck.
I want to pay my bills, buy groceries, and have enough left over to enjoy something without calculating whether I'll regret the purchase later.
I want my own apartment.
A television. A comfortable loveseat. My video games. A quiet evening.
Maybe dinner, a little gaming, and a decent night's sleep.
That's the dream.
Not particularly glamorous, is it?
But after enough years of losing things, rebuilding, and watching circumstances take another bite out of whatever progress you've made, an ordinary life starts looking pretty extraordinary.
The Danger of Getting Used to Hardship
I think there's a danger in becoming too accustomed to struggling.
You begin to expect something to go wrong.
You make plans with an invisible asterisk attached.
You save money while wondering how long it'll last.
You buy something nice while calculating how easily you could sell it if necessary.
You find yourself preparing for the next setback before you've even enjoyed the current victory.
Eventually, hardship becomes familiar.
And familiarity can be dangerous.
Because just because you've experienced something repeatedly doesn't mean it's supposed to be your permanent condition.
You can become very good at surviving circumstances without those circumstances being acceptable.
You can be resilient and still be unhappy about what you've had to endure.
You can appreciate what you have without pretending you don't miss what you've lost.
And you can keep going without convincing yourself that struggling is the purpose of your life.
The Next Chapter Doesn't Have to Look Like the Last One
I don't know when things will get easier.
I don't know when the next job will come along, when the finances will stabilize, or when I'll finally be able to stop treating every unexpected expense like a small-scale emergency.
I don't have a magical answer.
But I don't want to confuse what has happened with what is guaranteed to happen.
My past is full of things I've lost.
That doesn't mean everything I acquire in the future is destined to disappear.
I've worked jobs that made me miserable.
That doesn't mean every workplace will be the same.
I've had to start over more times than I'd like.
That doesn't mean starting over is all I'm capable of doing.
And perhaps that's the point.
I don't need to pretend the past was wonderful. I don't need to dress up every disappointment as a lesson or every hardship as a blessing.
Some things were simply difficult.
Some things were unfair.
Some things hurt.
But I don't have to let those experiences write the ending.
A Good Day
I once imagined a plaque for my future apartment.
Nothing elaborate.
Just a few words describing what a good day looks like.
Nothing broke.
Nobody bothered me.
I made dinner.
Played a little Ghosts 'n Goblins.
Went to bed.
No grand achievement. No dramatic victory. No heroic struggle against the forces of the universe.
Just an ordinary day.
And maybe that's what I've wanted all along.
Not a life without challenges.
Not a guarantee that nothing will ever go wrong.
Just a life where things can go right often enough that I can enjoy them.
Where I can buy a video game and keep it.
Where I can earn a paycheck and actually enjoy some of the money.
Where I can sit in my own apartment and not wonder what disaster is waiting around the corner.
A life where peace isn't something I get to borrow for a few hours before the next problem arrives.
One More Thing
I'm still here.
Still trying.
Still looking for work. Still writing. Still playing games. Still making plans.
I can be angry about what happened without surrendering what I hope might happen next.
I can be exhausted without giving up.
And I can acknowledge that life has been difficult without accepting that difficulty is all it has left to offer.
Because that's something I refuse to do.
Don't let the circumstances you've endured convince you that hardship is all you're ever going to get.
You've lived through those chapters.
You don't have to keep living in them.
The next one hasn't been written yet.
— Boris
Jerry's Marginalia
There is a difference between surviving a storm and deciding that storms are the only weather you'll ever experience.
Resilience is not a lifetime subscription to suffering.
You are allowed to want something easier.
You are allowed to want something ordinary.
You are allowed to stop treating peace like an extravagant luxury.
The Department of Petty Affairs has reviewed the request.
The subject wishes to earn a living, retain his possessions, enjoy his hobbies, and experience an uneventful evening without administrative interference.
APPROVED.
No additional resilience examinations are required.
— Jerry “The Ankle-Biter” Silverhand
Chief Auditor, Department of Petty Affairs
Senior Consultant, Southern Hospitality & Administrative Accountability
Licensed Raccoon. Unlicensed Therapist. Professional Ankle-Biter.
“Where the bullshit gets audited, the raccoon gets fed, and Grandma always has dessert.” 🦝