At What Cost?

“So what do you do, Dad, when you have so many back to back meetings?” My son asked my husband after he had told him about his busy workday ahead.

“You suffer through it,” my husband responded matter-of-factly while making his double espresso.

Yep, that’s what he did. He suffered through it. And so did I. I was actually doing it that very morning. Last night my son had requested pancakes for breakfast and I agreed to make them, even though he could easily have toast or cereal. I agreed to make the pancakes because I knew I was able to suffer through a busy morning.

I used to be proud of my ability to power through my chores and commitments despite being rushed or tired. I thought it was a sign of a strong character. I was praised for being reliable, resourceful and hardworking and I viewed those qualities as virtues. Being tired was as a sign of weakness, if not an excuse.

Growing up, I was surrounded by working bees, both metaphorically and literally. My grandpa was a beekeeper and he was fascinated with honeybees and their “work culture”. When any of his grandkids complained about being tired, they got to hear a story about a bee tirelessly flying around in search of pollen. My grandma never pushed us to work harder, but by watching her constantly busy in the kitchen or in the garden, knitting sweaters and making endless batches of pierogi, left me with the impression that work and others came before anything else.

My parents only reinforced this idea. They worked hard because that was life. Resting was idle, self-indulgent and as if reserved for others, not them. They were tough. Toughened by life.

Looking at the stressed and tired working bees around me, made me question their lack of balance. But I had no idea how to live differently. If life got busy, I suffered through it. If I got tired, I had more coffee and powered through. That’s what I did for years. With mixed results.

Once, after a long day at work preceded by a bad night sleep, I backed my new car into into a pillar at the underground parking garage and heavily dented my Opel Corsa. Recently, I took my dog for a walk because she needed exercise, even if I needed rest. I lost her when she suddenly pulled on the leash and darted after a squirrel. Yesterday, I snapped at my son because after a day of errands and appointments, I was trying to make dinner, and he was distracting me with his chatter. Over the years, I got into many unpleasant and stressful situations because I chose to power through my chores and commitments despite being tired.

Lately, I’ve been asking myself more and more: why was I doing that? At what cost? Was my need to accomplish things more important than my need to rest? Was I a better person when I was accommodating and tired, or less conscientious and rested? Sure, I made my son the pancakes he had requested, but I was also cranky because I had no time to make my coffee.

I thought about the conversation my son was having with his dad. I knew that suffering through a busy day was not a solution. Not long term at least. It was not what I wanted to teach my kids. And that’s when I told them how I crashed my first new car because I was too tired.