Is it worth it?

 In the midst of difficulties, I often ask myself “is this worth it?”

As if there is some kind of IT that will justify all the hardship and pain at the end. As if there is an end.

When it’s hard I get angry and stomp my feet. This is not worth it! It was a lie, who ever thought this would be worth it is lying! It’s not worth it, it was a mistake!

Recently I have learned that there is no mathematical calculations which will add up in the end. Nothing will ever add up, and nothing has a purpose, because everything is purposeful.

Besides, when we ask about worth, another question immediately rises: worth of what?

When do you tally up?

At what point do we draw the line in the sand and say THIS is the moment I am going to take a measurement of all the things worthy? Every day is different, every moment makes us grow, so what would be a good moment to make a tally?

You don’t ask a marathon runner somewhere past the mid-point “Hey is it worth it?” And if you do, they would probably tell you “Hell no, this is shit!” I’m sure 99% of marathon runners have one dominant thought throughout the whole ordeal, and that is “Why the hell am I doing this voluntarily?!“

But ask that same marathon runner the question at the finish line, and I’m sure they will have a very different answer and view of their experience.

This question has haunted me with parenthood lately.

It is a painfully forbidden question to ask yourself: is this worth it. But it is a question that sneaks into my mind in the middle of hard moments, and in the middle of days when I feel removed from myself and my own life. It creeps in, and I kick it out. But since it often returns I decided to invite it in.

Shadow work

Little did I know that my invitation came with a shadow called “was this a mistake?“

I decided to have a conversation with both, because I know that trying to keep unwanted feelings away is harder than inviting them in and listening. Because I know that the most beautiful things are hidden behind our fears.

And my fear is regret.

Parenting is a marathon. You cannot ask a new mother whether it’s worth it, because nobody knows. During my first years of being a parent I would often think to myself “no, it’s not worth it” but I kept trusting the invitation. I refuse to sit in regret, so it must be OK in the end.

Let’s say I’m lucky and get to be a mother for 40-50 years. At what point of that marathon do I make the declaration of its worthiness? Probably not wise to start declaring anything at mile 4.

All the comfortable things

This morning as I walked home in the dark rain from taking my son to school, I was listening to a podcast where someone said the following:

All the comfortable things will cost the most.

Maybe it’s all the best things that have us question our sanity. Maybe nothing has to add up, maybe nothing has to make sense and to be worth it. We cannot compare a life we have to the life we think we should have had. And we don’t know the other paths because they do not exist.

They do not exist for a reason – they were not for us.

I’m learning to let go of the question of worthiness. Is life worth it? Worth what? Maybe we all get at least a participation medal at the end of the finish line, if we are lucky enough to get that far. Or maybe we don’t.

I want to learn to let go of the mathematics of it all, as if it all has to add up. It doesn’t.

We have life today, and it’s beautiful. It’s hard and wonderful and terrible and delightful.

That’s all.

Maybe that’s just all.