White-knuckled self-discipline?

Leonie Westenberg
Jul 20, 2017 · 4 min read

We practice self-control. We give-it-our-all. We never give up.

In the words of my workout t-shirt: We work hard. We play hard.

That’s good. Much of the time. Yet when it becomes a ‘hold on to life with a tight grip’ game, with tense white knuckles that feel the strain, well then we know that something is wrong with our lives. With our work and probably also with our play.

Life is not a battleground. We don’t have to beat ourselves into submission.

I spent years of my life being hard on myself. Urging myself to achieve goals in my business and study. To be published in academic journals. In writing textbooks. In speaking at conferences.

I achieved many good things. And I still do those things.

However, I also lost a sense of autonomy. In holding hard to goals and pushing myself beyond capacity (You achieve so much, everyone said. You are amazing) — there was and is a cost. A cost I finally admitted to myself.

The cost was, as I said, a loss of autonomy. I imbibed a slave mentality — yes, even when I was the driver of the notion that work must be done. I became a slave to my own idea that life always required hard work and that success must be driven and hard-won.

These are not bad ideas for some of the time. But for my whole life? No, the cost was too great.

What I do is remind myself that I am in business for myself — yes, even when I work for others.

I don’t resent myself or fight myself. I just totally get into what needs to be done. And then, if it doesn’t work or stuff doesn’t seem right, I get out of it.

No more white knuckles. In their place is grace. Grace for myself and others.

Grace implies smoothness and elegance of movement. It also indicates courteous good will.

What would life be like if we showed this good will to ourselves and others, when making decisions and facing tough situations? What would work be like if we didn’t rush and push but decidedly moved, smoothly, to do the next thing, and then the next thing after that, until everything we need to do is done? If we elegantly gave others the chance to do the same, without undue pressure from us?

I have been trying this out. This living with grace. I have found that I keep moving towards things which interest me, while still completing some necessary work that interests me less but must be done.

I have learned how to continue to work productively and be engaged in serious activity, while respecting myself and others.

How have I moved towards this grace?

  1. I gave myself a cutoff date. Rather than pushing myself further when I was tired and doing less than productive work as a result, rather than pressing others to keep on working when I knew their time was needed elsewhere, rather than thinking that quitting was wrong, I gave myself a cutoff date. A date or time when work would stop. Or when, if I hadn’t achieved what I thought I should, I would take stock. Maybe move on. My first business, for example? I gave myself three months to reach a target number of customers. My cutoff date was three months. I could work long and hard knowing that, if it wasn’t for me, I could leave. I didn’t have to, but the cutoff date gave me grace.
  2. I wrote. Yes, I wrote for me. Notes, quotes. Lists. Diary entries. Thoughts. All my ideas out of my head and onto paper. This helped to steer my work and productivity to what it is I actually want and not tie goals to the social status of work. Once, I gave up a leadership role for study and teaching. It looked weird to some. But my writing showed me the way. I knew what was needed then. Perhaps, for others, it will not be writing that helps but sketching. Doodling. Whatever it is, take note of what it is you jot down. These often point to change.
  3. I shared. It can be hard to shift from beating one self to work, to living and working with grace. To remember the core of why we do what we do. Sharing this core with others has helped me — and them. We become each other’s successful support. Wishes and thoughts are shared so that even when the world sees only our work, those people in our support network see the core, the reason behind the work. They remind us gracefully of why we do what we do. And they ask a question when we seem to be off track. Then, in our vulnerability, we offer the same to them.

That’s grace in action. In work and in life. With productivity and elegance.

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