Cord and I have an inside pet peeve about using the word "hard." We hate saying it. But if I'm going to be honest about life the last month or so, the word is probably warranted.
On February 18, I found out I was pregnant. And the morning sickness began almost immediately. Each morning, I'd get out of bed, pee, go into Phoenix's room and change his diaper, and we'd run downstairs so I could make it to the sink before I started dry heaving. I'd cut his banana, put peanut butter on his toast, and take mine to the couch where I'd nibble until the nausea subsided somewhat. It was touch-and-go until noon or so, trying to keep Phoenix occupied while holding down my breakfast. Hard.
At the beginning of March, Phoenix took a tumble down the stairs while playing with his cousins. I didn't see him fall. I heard it. He wouldn't put weight on his leg so I took him in for an x-ray and he got put in a cast for 4 weeks. He got out of his leg cast on a Friday, and we were back the following Wednesday to get his arm x-rayed because he wouldn't bend it at the elbow. His arm was put in a cast. I couldn't believe it. Having his mobility limited with the leg cast and my morning sickness had been hard enough. His arm being out of commission seemed like a cruel a joke. Hard.
In the midst of it, I traveled to Michigan to direct a commercial for Home Reserve, that I wrote, cast, styled, and ended up acting in. I've never developed a video project on my own. I did the whole thing remote from Fort Wayne except the shoot, and mostly at nap time or after Phoenix went to bed. Hard.
Hard is what I say when I don't know if I can do it, how I'll do it, and even if I can and figure out how, I still don't want to.
I've had two relationships with this concept. I used to think of hard things as a way to measure myself. I wanted my life to be difficult. I didn't want to be lazy, and I wanted to have plenty to complain about. I didn't want anyone to think my life was too easy or effortless. I had a lot to prove. Then, my mindset shifted and I didn't want to do ANY hard things. I felt like the hustle was a lie, and was sick of measuring value based on how hard things were. I looked around and saw people in a peaceful mindset, their lives unfolding with ease, and that's what I wanted. Nothing to prove. I realize now that in both these seasons I was either pursuing hard or avoiding it. And I don't really want to do either.
I want to allow things, hard and easy, and recognize BOTH are present in most situations:
- I got pregnant fairly easily, which is magical and I don't take it for granted. Being nauseous is an adjustment. It's hard...and it gets easier.
- Seeing my 18 month old being held down for x-rays, and then maneuvering his life in casts was hard to watch. I could see how it frustrated him. We still managed to go to Ikea with grandma, hang out at the park, and find pants that fit. It was hard...and it got easier.
- There was a lot to figure out with the commercial, but I had the BEST time working on it. I love working from home, and I'm confident I'll be able to tackle the next project, even with two munchkins running around...because hard things don't stay hard forever.
I don't have anything to prove by doing hard things. When I face something new, I adapt and end up discovering I can do something I didn't know I could do. The potential is always there, situations simply arrive to bring it out. Maybe "hard" is simply too permanent a word. I think I prefer something like "adjustment" or "transition" or "growth period."
If I do use the word on occasion, hopefully, I always remember to add the truth to whatever is hard at the moment, "I can do hard things, and hard things don't stay hard forever."
Also, an old lesson...I've found hard doesn't equal good and neither does easy. Hard and easy are simply inevitable, and good and bad are too.