Life is tough, but so are you!

The backsplash image on my Linked-in profile page says, “Life is tough, but so are you.” I first saw this when an old friend and colleague posted the image of this phrase painted on a fence somewhere in the Denver area. It has become a rallying cry, for me at least, through the last year we’ve all suffered through together. 

I also like to remember that at the end of my 4th grade year, my teacher gave me (created for me) the “True Grit” award. This had a lot to do with me fighting to overturn gender roles at my little Baptist school and possibly a few locker room brawls where I might have thrown a punch or two in defense of a classmate. (My memory is a bit hazy around the specifics.) 

I have felt especially proud of her award for me, particularly since it was a good 20+ years prior to any TED talks or books defining grit as a trait that leads to success. Her award came from the deeply held admiration held by my fellow West Texans for spitfire personalities akin to Annie Oakley and the unsinkable Molly Brown. (Neither were Texans, but they’re who come to mind.) 

As I see and hear the stories of my friends and family in Texas suffering the bitter cold and lack of adequate power due to human hubris and lack of foresight, I feel their gritty frustration. I have seen pleas on social media for their northern friends to be gentle as they are learning the hard way. They’re filling up their bathtubs with snow to melt for water and sitting huddled around wood-burning fires and tent-sleeping indoors to stay warm. These are people who pride themselves on toughness and resourcefulness as is defined by their identity as Texan. Texans don’t complain. Texans don’t ask for help. Texans literally pull themselves up from the boot straps and carry on stoically in the face of what would make others wither. What has happened is shame-full. Not just the acts that led up to this catastrophe, but the feeling of shame that some of these Texans experiencing the repercussions of those actions, are feeling. They are ashamed that they aren’t able to just power through this and ride through on their grit and hard work. It’s not like they even knew they needed to prepare for this. The utility companies, had they followed regulations, should have known. But the Texans freezing in their homes trusted that all of their hard work counted for something and the utilities they paid for would be there in time of need.

I’m clearly over-generalizing. These feelings of shame these days aren’t just felt by Texans. This year has been an ego-breaker and a grit-grinder for all of us. This idea that we can work ourselves out of a bad situation that we have no control over is also an American idea and all of us are hitting the wall. The grit is waning for many of us, or at least for me. 

This year has been tough but we are tough. In, 2019 I wrote an article on Linked-in about Taking Time Off and Assessing Core Values. I thought that we had had a rough year THEN. I look back and actually laugh out loud at the audacity that I thought we were over-stressed with having to deal with a minor move across the country, new schools and new work. 

To be honest, the shut down didn’t affect us harshly at all until August. I’m an introvert and adored the ability to shun social situations. We had a new house and endless projects to keep us busy, in addition to good jobs and paychecks. Summer was lonely but not awful. However, I could feel the instinctual fear of the colder months as August approached and Covid numbers were rising instead of lowering, and I started to hold back on spending in case something should happen. 

Early August my husband and I, along with parents across the country/world, found out that we were now going to be overseeing the education of our two children in their 3rd and 4th grade years, at home, in addition to our full time work. We took on the challenge with our usual joyful and gritty approach, knowing it was hard but we could make it work. It should only last a few months.

In mid August my colleagues and I at our museum were furloughed 20%. That means we got Mondays off and 20% less pay. I wasn’t overly worried, as my husband was still getting paid and I was sure I could pull in supplemental income with my new business venture! So, I started Mondays @ the Museums to both supplement my own children’s education, but also as a side gig to cover my own losses. 

August 31, my husband’s partnership fell apart and he was left without severance, insurance or income. He was denied unemployment based on a false accusation of his former partner. (We eventually won the case, but 4 arduous months later.) 

We had enough in our bank to cover all of our expenses for 2 ? months just as the books say we’re supposed to. It lasted for 2 ? months and then it was gone. The 80% non-profit paycheck that I was bringing in now had to cover insurance for all 4 of us and our basic living expenses. 

My husband has worked 14-16 hours a day (weekends too) from September 1, the day he left the partnership, to build up his own firm. He’s been very successful and getting business and contracts, but our first payment didn’t come until January. Our bank allowed us three months to miss our mortgage payments, Nov, Dec and January. We squeaked through, being able to recently cover our February payment thanks to winning that unemployment claim and receiving 4 months of back pay at once.

Since school started in mid-August, I’ve worked full-time, spending mornings at home juggling work calls, emails and work projects while overseeing my children’s online school, providing snacks and making lunch. I spent afternoons at the office to assure my unmarried, childless co-workers that I was actually working and not just “playing with my kids'' during the morning hours. 

Every two weeks from October through January, I visited a different food bank to get food for my family that my paycheck couldn’t cover. I learned how to cook amazing meals with the food we got and we learned all about new recipes and food options that we hope to explore even when finances even back out, because they do. They always have, at least for us, and even so, money is only a means to an end, a tool, and without it, you just get more creative with sour cream. 

On my days off I prepped meals for the coming week, cleaned the house and worked to build up my new business, creating content, marketing, researching and trying my best to fill the missing gaps. There were also those weekends where I didn’t emerge from beneath my blanket, dealing with the heaviness of the financial “what if’s” and unknown, the shame of not having enough and sheer exhaustion of keeping it together for my kids. 

For every foodbank I went to, I had to fill out forms to qualify and qualified each time, yet I was ridiculed online for showing up to the foodbank in my Volvo and I was accused of “stealing from the homeless.” These safety nets are exactly there. To catch you when you unexpectedly fall. They’re not meant to be long-term, though they unfortunately, have to be for some. 

My family is not alone in the fallout of the pandemic. In fact, we’re extremely fortunate. 

We have property we can sell. We have retirement we could liquidate. We understood the last few months to be temporary and kept ourselves sane and made our choices with that in mind. We have family and friends that helped us. My husband has experience and skills that allow for him to make money on his own. I have a supportive work-space and friend network and skills of my own that will keep us solvent in some way or another. 

There are many who will not fare as well. So, I guess my point to this, as I realize towards the end of my verbal retching, is that yes, grit and hard work will get you far and can keep you going, but adding kindness to yourself and empathy for your fellow humans will get you even farther. 

I cannot wait to pay forward the gifts of kindness that have been given to me over the past few months. 

I cannot wait to donate food to the pantries I frequented. (P.S. no one needs that much yogurt or sour cream. Please donate what YOU would eat, if you can.) 

I cannot wait to volunteer at the food pantries that I frequented

I cannot wait to share the thoughtfulness given to me by my boss, after I opened up to him and shared all that I was struggling with at home, in cutting back his expectations of my workload in order to keep me mentally healthy. Believe me, it was not easy. I was not happy at first. I thrive on juggling lots of different projects and having to put on the breaks to focus on my mental health SUCKS. But I’m so thankful, and more thankful everyday. 

I hope that others who are struggling out there know that they are not alone. 

I hope that after all of this pandemic passes, we learn to be more flexible and understanding in what we expect from others at home and in the workspace. 

I hope that we stop waiting for bad things to happen to us personally, before embracing empathetic action towards helping others. 

I hope we can find a balance in reassessing the expectations we hold ourselves to while not letting go of our ambition and dreams.

My mom made me memorize this poem by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, when I was 12. I recite it to myself all the time.

Tell me not, in mournful numbers,

   Life is but an empty dream!

For the soul is dead that slumbers,

   And things are not what they seem.

Life is real! Life is earnest!

   And the grave is not its goal;

Dust thou art, to dust returnest,

   Was not spoken of the soul.

Not enjoyment, and not sorrow,

   Is our destined end or way;

But to act, that each to-morrow

   Find us farther than to-day.

Art is long, and Time is fleeting,

   And our hearts, though stout and brave,

Still, like muffled drums, are beating

   Funeral marches to the grave.

In the world’s broad field of battle,

   In the bivouac of Life,

Be not like dumb, driven cattle!

   Be a hero in the strife!

Trust no Future, howe’er pleasant!

   Let the dead Past bury its dead!

Act,— act in the living Present!

   Heart within, and God o’erhead!

Lives of great men all remind us

   We can make our lives sublime,

And, departing, leave behind us

   Footprints on the sands of time;

Footprints, that perhaps another,

   Sailing o’er life’s solemn main,

A forlorn and shipwrecked brother,

   Seeing, shall take heart again.

Let us, then, be up and doing,

   With a heart for any fate;

Still achieving, still pursuing,

   Learn to labor and to wait.