When Something You Love Isn't Working

Photo by Quinn Corte. Walden Pond, 2023.

Listen to the audio version here:

I’ve been asking myself lately, “Is all this effort worth it?”

In one area of my life, I’ve decided it’s not. I’ve been working tirelessly to close the gap between my fantasy of this thing and the reality of the thing. In fantasy, this thing meets my needs. In reality, this thing is eroding my life force.

The confusing part is that I love this part of my life. I love this part of who I am. But when I’m honest, it’s just not working. It hasn’t been working for a very long time. And I can’t keep pouring my energy into it.

Is there something you love that’s not working for you?

Realizing this usually starts with bone-deep exhaustion. Because you love this thing, you’ve been trying so damn hard to make it work. And all this unrewarded effort is wearing you down.

Maybe you’ve become a warrior. You suit up in your armor every day to fight for, push ahead, negotiate, and change this thing that isn’t quite the way you want it to be. Your entire body is tense from the effort. You’re on guard, defending the idea of a thing that isn’t serving you. You’re powerful, so you think you can make it work with your willpower and grit.

The deep-down truth is you’ve probably outgrown this thing you love.

If you’re honest, maybe…

You love what you do, but your job isn’t good for you.
You love an identity or affiliation, but it isn’t who you are.
You love someone, but you aren’t meeting each other’s needs.
You love working from home, but it isn’t working for you.
You love being a runner, but your body no longer supports it.
You love a group of people, but you don’t belong.

Sometimes a thing that used to nourish you slowly turns stale. Rather than feeding you, it starts draining your energy. But you stay because it used to taste so good. You long for those days. Or maybe you were only ever nourished by a dream of the how good the thing could be.

Admitting something is complete doesn’t usually mean you stop loving it. The love is there—it might always be there—but love isn’t always a reason to stay.

~

So when is it time for a warrior to lay down her sword? To stop fighting and surrender?

Look to your body for cues. Is your body energized and nourished and exhilarated in spite of the discomfort? Is your body all in on fighting for this love? Or is your body worn out, undernourished, and showing symptoms of rebellion? Is your body trying to get you to stop? The body knows. If you ignore it too long, it often sounds the alarm until you listen.

Look to your dreams for cues. Are your dreams on hold because of this battle? Is holding onto this thing preventing you from grabbing the reins of your life?

It might be time to pause the battle if you’ve been trying to make something work for so long—and at great personal cost—but it still isn’t working.

I recently gave my thing one final push—a big one, that required a ton of energy and vulnerability. That push didn’t work, and now the fight is completely draining out of me.

I feel done. Energetically, I have put down my sword.

If your battle has gone on too long, I invite you to lay your sword next to mine. Take the burdens off your back and rest them on the ground. Shrug off your armor and sit down. Shed some tears. End the effort. You’ve been trying so hard—now it’s time to stop trying. Life is too short to be a constant battle.

It’s time to retreat.

Surrender offers a temporary retreat space to recover, reflect, and take stock of the situation. It ensures that when it’s time to move forward, you are well-rested, clear-headed, and more strategic.

The retreat space is where you re-align with what you need instead of following old marching orders. You can stay here while you gain the strength and clarity needed to take the next step. You’re in what writer Nicole Antoinette calls the space between “not this” and “what’s next.”

Only in a space of not-doing will the fog clear and show you a path forward.

~

If all this is stirring something within you, that’s because it’s in the air. Numerically, 2023 is the year of the Chariot, an archetypal invitation to leave behind what we’ve outgrown.

In talking about this Chariot year, my teacher Lindsay Mack shared a beautiful reminder that a snake is most vulnerable just after it sheds its skin. The new layer of skin is a better fit for the snake, but it’s delicate at first. The snake hides to protect itself until the new skin has hardened, then it goes back into the world.

A lot of us will shed old skins this year.

I’m feeling very tender as I start shedding my old skin. Grief, fear, doubt, and possibility are having their way with me. Like a vulnerable animal, I have a natural instinct to hide and tend to myself. Eventually I’ll feel strong enough to make changes in my life. For now, I’m exhausted and need to retreat.

Nature shows us how to take time with transformation. In autumn, the leaves don’t pressure themselves to jump off the tree. Nor do they cling to the branch all winter long. They relinquish all effort and fall naturally. And do these leaves immediately become fertilizer for new plants? No, that process takes a couple seasons.

My friend shared recently, “I think I’m starting the process of breaking up.” While heartbreaking, the gentleness and spaciousness of that phrase felt so generous to me.

If you’re worn out, please join me in *thinking of starting the process* of shedding an old skin. We start by admitting that something isn’t working. Then we stop the effort and hang out together in a gentle, self-protective retreat. We don’t have to know what’s on the other side. We don’t have to make decisions or leap into the next thing. We certainly shouldn’t rush out into the world with our delicate new skin.

We have been fighting for so long. We can let this be a time of recovering and when we’re ready—of dreaming up new worlds. All we need is time and space.

There is dignity in the retreat. Fighting is brave, but surrendering is braver.

~

Your turn:

I’ve been trying so damn hard to make ___ work, and I’m exhausted.

My body has been trying to tell me that ___ is no longer working for me.

I think I’m starting the process of breaking up with ___, even though I love(d) it.

~

Go deeper:

My 13-minute guided meditation to help you reflect on your ending and release what isn't meant to come with you.

My 10-minute guided meditation to help you ground and surrender when your mind is overly active or worrying about what you can't control.

Martha Beck on the Quitted podcast: Part 1 and Part 2.

The Surprising Power of Creative Disappointment on the Sparked podcast.

Thriving Through Uncertainty, a book by Tama Kieves. 

"Quitting: When is it time to let someone or something go?" on the We Can Do Hard Things podcast.