Giving up is never a good feeling. It is a bitter victory–choosing loss before it is inevitably handed to you. It is bitter because it is something you let go of with an admission that no matter how hard you tried or how much work you put in, your finest efforts would not have been good enough. You…would not have been good enough.
Over time, we learn to give up earlier and earlier. The sting is less, expectations are lower, and you believe you look less like a fool–just tripping instead of falling hard. But the flip side of this is that you lower, expect less, and achieve, well, not a whole lot.
Of course giving up on trying to solve a Rubik’s Cube at a party is different than giving up on a friend, or giving up on life for that matter. The more you have invested, the harder it is. But it is the little give-ups which start us on the track to the larger. We disconnect. We stop investing. No one makes the large jumps to whole sale giving up in a day. It’s as if every little give-up kills off a little piece inside of you until you have little enough left to consider jumping ship altogether.
Cat doesn’t invest in much, and I have wondered if she is ever disappointed. Surely the turning of a can opener which yields pineapple instead of tuna must be a letdown for her. And she once in awhile cedes her vigilant watch over the bedroom door after long minutes of crying to get in. I wonder if she’s bothered. I wonder if it, you know, hurts.
I have yet to give up on life. Dead people don’t write. But tonight I experienced a telltale sign of impending doom. I experienced something which I knew and felt to be incredibly inspiring–and yet instead of inspiring me to imagine ways to aspire for better, it merely made me depressed about all of the ways I had failed to achieve. And I got the overbearing sense that my time had passed. …Time to talk about the children being the future, yada yada. Except this time, the children isn’t me. When did it stop being me?
I remember being in 5th grade and listening to Whitney Houston belt out The Greatest Love of All. “I believe the children are our future,” she sang. I wondered why the grown-ups of the day had mucked things up so badly. Surely things would change when I was older. When I had more power. When I could drive. When I could vote. When I had a job and money to support causes… Then all of that came, we’re worse off than ever, and unfortunately all we can do is look to the next set if children.
So if we old geezers are helpless because we’re set in our ways and our lives are slipping away and indentured to the IRS, banks, and credit card companies; and the youth are helpless because they have no money, resources, or political clout–who has the power? The answer is likely Everyone. We just don’t like to hear that because then our helplessness is a cop out. How did the kids who were so eager to change the world suddenly become so complacent as to allow recycling their plastic cups at home to be their major contribution to society?
Sure, a lot of things drag you down–debt, responsibilities…living in the real world is hard. But being a kid was no cakewalk either, and being a teenager, well, just sucks. I think the problem is that being young, you have all the aspiration and none of the ability and being old is the reverse. When you are young, you know exactly what you want to do. When you are old (and I count myself here as old for this very reason), you have more resources, but you have lost sight of what you want out of life–life itself just keeps getting in the way.
It’s hard to take a note from Cat on this one. I’m not sure what she wants for her life. She seems pretty happy lying in the sun, being fed, and being adored. Why do I feel like if I had those same things–which sound wonderful–I would still find something to be miserable about?
I don’t think Cat worries about how to add to this life. How to leave her mark. I don’t think many people think about that either anymore. It seems to be a dying trait. The interesting thing though, is that she does add to life. She makes a difference in my life and my family’s lives, and even to my readers’ lives. And she never even tried. I’m not sure if she’s aware of this. I’m not sure she would even care if she was aware of it. I think everyone leaves an impression on someone whether they mean to or not.
So I don’t think that it is necessarily worth or visibility that is the problem. Those seem to be innate in the joining of a society and associating with others. I think the “problem” we have is a little more personal to our species. I do not believe Cat lays in the sun beating herself up for the fact that there are cats outside who are cold and homeless. Empathy is a uniquely human trait.
We can take a tip from Cat in that we mustn’t worry so much about whether or not we will leave a mark on others–we most definitely will. However, our humanity is in the concern about what type of mark we leave, how many we touch, and to what extent. This concern never really leaves us, though it is manifested differently throughout our lives. For most, it does fade as we age and as we discover more and more limitations we have set for ourselves. But is there a way to reawaken it?
Some people have that gene. They are imaginative, creative, and productive forever. Walt Disney. Mother Teresa. Mother Teresa was OLD. But she still produced with youthful exuberance. Everyone knows her name and what she did for the poor in India. And better, she actually did what she was known for. I need to read her life story so that I can find some abnormality, some excuse, for why I can’t possibly be like her. Maybe she had a rich benefactor or an astounding IQ, or an uncanny way with people. Whatever it is, she better have something extraordinary. Because if she doesn’t, I don’t have an excuse for not doing the good she did.
If the only difference between she and I was that she wanted it more, loved more fiercely, and didn’t give up, then…
I don’t even know what then.
I am at the crossroads of resources and what-do-I-do? I don’t think I have a heart for an Indian feeding ministry. I don’t think inventing a clean coal alternative is in my future either. So what would it be for me? What could I pour my life in to?
It’s kind of a great problem to have. There is no lack of causes rallying for a champion. And since we know that everyone has some effect on others, it is just a matter of plugging in to the right place. The best part about this is that you don’t have to stick out on your own and re-invent the wheel. Of course you can if you want, but there have been times when I have poured enthusiasm and energy into a venture just to find out it already existed.
So how do I find out who needs me as much as I need them? Clearly my skills at market research are lacking. I like to help people by speaking and writing to large groups of them. Who could need someone so verbose? And would I embrace the mission they are peddling?
I like helping people towards self-sufficiency–helping them raise themselves up. I suppose this is why I was a teacher. But how do you put a name to this cause. Is this a cause? It’s not exactly Save the Whales.
Whatever it is, I’m not doing it. This is probably why I feel like I’m tipping the scales of giving up. You can see it in my work, in my parenting, and in my health. My body is definitely giving up. My whole life could use some healthy habits–and detox. You can’t ignore it; it will eat you alive until you are numb and beyond given up. So why is committing to it so hard? Because we are afraid to fail.
And so we come full-circle to the first paragraph. There is a great scripture for this which just popped into my head. It’s actually written on a piece of paper taped to my wall in my office: “Let us not become weary in doing good, for at the proper time we will reap a harvest if we do not give up.” Galatians 6:9.
It takes courage, but go out and be who your 15-year-old self would have died to be. Everything she dreamed of when her heart was in the right place. Bridge the gap between both worlds, and as Winston Churchill said, “Never, never, never give up.”