It’s exhausting (is it really?)

I recently caught myself saying this (that’s so meta, isn’t it?)…

I was talking about was some banal, forgetful, mundane chore that I had to do — something like going to the DMV (whatever it was was so banal that I’ve actually forgotten what it was, exactly).

It’s so exhausting. Ugh…

I got really emotionally invested in that statement. I think I rolled my eyes and threw my head back as if to proclaim to the heavens, take my life now, God, before I have to go through this horribly excruciating event.

But then I realized…

No it’s not.

(Always an interesting experience when you call hogwash on yourself.)

Here’s what I saw…

Nothing is exhausting in and of itself. (Then again, nothing is anything in and of itself.)

I can say that running a marathon is exhausting. But some gal who trains everyday and runs 5 marathons a year sees that same thing as exhilarating.

If anyone can see running a marathon, going into battle, or having 10 kids as uplifting and life-affirming (some actually do), I’m going to be fine at the DMV.

It’s easy to buy into our labels.

What if I switched my bureaucratic field day into a stunning investigation into the nature of humanity? Or, what if I got really excited about getting to read for 2 hours as I waited in line?

It’s exhausting.
It’s horrible.
It’s scary.
It’s stressful.

Is it really? 
Okay. Sure. 
And so it is. 
Until it isn’t.

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