Why do you bother?

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Why do you bother?

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Why do we bother doing what we do? What tone do you hear in that question? To bother: taking the trouble or effort to do something.To be bothered: to be affected by something and/or to care about it. I hadn’t really thought much about this phrase until it came up in a conversation related to stuckness a few days ago. And now I can’t stop thinking about it. https://youtu.be/SSCHoKd3tCc Someone shared that, despite having written a huge number of words, they felt self-doubt, uncertainty, and boredom were why they hadn’t yet managed to complete a draft of the novel they’d been working on for the past couple of years. Exploring the map, watching the videos, and using the reflection guide helped them realise there might be more to it than an internal issue. In reality, the publishing industry is going through a period of deep uncertainty, and it’s harder than ever to get into. That adds a very real obstacle to the stuckness. Stuckness Doesn’t Occur in a Vacuum Feeling stuck is often a dance between internal and external factors. And it always happens within a broader context. Unstable material conditions, unhelpful environments, and systemic inequalities make stuckness more than a mindset or attitude issue. I’ve known people struggling to stay afloat amid overwhelming busyness, grief, and health challenges, who believe they have the wrong attitude because they wish they could feel better and move forward. As if you haven’t got enough to deal with, there’s the added pressure of personal responsibility to respond positively to things beyond your control. A Mindset Fallacy The focus on mindset and positive thinking as a solution to stuckness can implicitly misdiagnose its source as lying squarely within the individual. It places us in charge of our own reality, a common position we’ve noticed throughout the history of the self-help movement. At its most extreme, this becomes the belief that we can literally manifest material wealth, health, and prosperity through the power of positive thinking. At one level, this way of thinking seems harmless enough. But when we peel back the layers, it reveals some more insidious assumptions. Not least, it assumes that if everything boils down to individual responsibility for the quality of our own life through positive thinking, then we are personally to blame for our suffering. This can be a really lonely place to be. We feel stuck because of the projected images we see from others who tell stories of self-made success. These tell us what we SHOULD want and aspire to. Then, when we struggle to get there, we beat ourselves up for not having what those successful people seem to have. A lot of smoke and mirrors surround those stories. When you believe that you’re the only one finding it hard, but that the result is necessary for your value as a human, you are more likely to act from desperation rather than curiosity. And the cycle continues. Why Bother? Good question. Glad you asked. These pressures subtly influence our response to the question. So do the ways we’re encouraged to measure value. I remember reading a blog post many years ago about the difference in quality between the amateur and the professional. It referenced Steven Pressfield’s archetypes of The Professional and The Amateur in The War of Art, his book about what he coined as The Resistance, the enemy force that derails a creative pursuit. I haven’t read it for about 15 years, but I remember it containing some helpful ideas and some that made less sense to me. In it he writes: “The word amateur comes from the Latin root meaning “to love.” The conventional interpretation is that the amateur pursues his calling out of love, while the pro does it for money. Not the way I see it. In my view, the amateur does not love the game enough. If he did, he would not pursue it as a sideline, distinct from his “real” vocation. The professional loves it so much he dedicates his life to it. He commits full-time.” I’ll save my greater exceptions for another day, perhaps. But at a basic level, and in response to “why bother?”, we can see the pressure potentially undermining Pressfield’s message. Although he presents the distinction as archetypes of attitude, it’s hard to escape the implication that the creative pursuit must provide a person’s main income (or full-time occupation) if the person truly loves it. Why DO I bother? When the thing becomes a means to an end, the end can begin to determine whether the thing itself feels worth doing. This can leave us feeling stuck. Confused about why we bother. I know people who have become derailed after being encouraged to take something they had great passion, love, and drive for and turn it into a source of income. They used to bother because they cared. It was a catalyst for creativity and imagination, providing a way to express themselves freely. They were curious, explored, and grew, pouring resources into their passion ...

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