The other day, I asked Minister Steve about his decision to become a vegetarian. He answered that it was not only the influence of his son (who is a strict vegan), but also an exercise in self-discipline.
I admire that quite a bit. Mostly because “self-disciplined” is, shall we say, not a word that describes me at all. I actually had to look it up in the dictionary to familiarize myself with its meaning. No, really. It’s somewhat of a foreign concept.
I have friends whose self-discipline (also known as “willpower”) helped them to lose weight, quit smoking, save for retirement, and yes, even change lives. In considering some of my own bad habits, I thought of willpower as some magical quality that you either have, or you don’t. Born with it, indoctrinated with it, bought it at the willpower store, where I pass the window and gaze at it longingly, asking myself why I can’t afford it – and then, realizing it’s probably because I don’t have the self-discipline to save the money.
You see, In my mind, the word “discipline” by itself makes me shudder. I am a lover of freedom, personal and otherwise. I embrace the moment and indulge in the present. My emotions and my appetites rule with an iron fist – well, more like a soft, squishy ball of self-indulgence that’s sort of shaped like a fist. I don’t even use the word when it comes to my kids. I coach them; I admonish them; I yell now and then. But man, that D-word…not a fan.
Ironically, it’s my love of freedom that has become an obstacle to things in life I wish to achieve. For example, I want a clean house. I just don’t want to actually clean it myself. And I know exercise is an excellent way to help treat depression, but my bed is a lot more comfortable than the gym. It’s not for lack of time; since I work from home, I can arrange my schedule however I choose and carve out an hour here or there where I need to. I just…don’t.
So I asked people: what is this willpower you speak of? How do you get it?
The answer? Practice.
Oh. Great. Something else I totally suck at.
And then another thought occurred to me: that I tend associate self-discipline with snobbery. You know those people with the “I did it, why can’t you, you’re just making excuses” attitude? It’s not just the complete opposite of motivating. It’s downright demeaning. You really, really don’t need to tell me I’m fat. The inner critic position was filled thirty-some years ago, and regularly assisted by the mirror, photographs, clothing ads, and the occasional person who pats my belly thinking I’m pregnant. Kudos to you for busting your butt at the gym every day and losing a hundred pounds. Just don’t insinuate that you’re success and I’m a failure. It took me many years to accept and love my body as it is despite incessant shaming, insults, and criticism – and to me, THAT is a success story.
But you know who deals with that even more than fat people? Poor people.
As an advocate for the homeless, I hear it all the time. “Those people” are just lazy and don’t want to work. “Those people” wouldn’t be living if tents if they’d just quit the alcohol/drugs/self-destructive behavior. And the critics don’t stop there; they even insult the volunteers: “You’re not helping them! You’re ENABLING them!”
I cannot say what sort of personal achievement makes them feel so superior to the folks living in Tent City. Some, perhaps, were able to overcome their circumstances through hard work, inner strength, or the grace of God. But most people were just plain lucky. They were born into far different circumstances, even privilege. They were blessed with outstanding coping skills, loving parents, an education. They too have made imperfect life choices – just different ones.
And sometimes, even all those privileges don’t matter. Those who lost homes or businesses to Sandy, Katrina, or another natural disaster are well aware of that. Those who chose to serve our nation in the military and recently had their benefits cut, know it all to well. Those who turned to the government for help and were met with runarounds, red tape, and bureaucratic floundering, can give more than a few lessons on it.
We who serve the homeless did not take the easy way out. We did not ignore the problem. We recognize that some people, but not all, will take advantage of generosity – but we believe that all people, regardless of their circumstances, deserve the basic necessities of life: food, shelter, clothing, and some sense of dignity. We don’t give selectively; we don’t judge; we don’t determine who gets to live and who is allowed to die, even if those in need feel worthless and undeserving. To loosely quote L.R. Knost, instead of allowing the actions of a few to convince us that this world is a cold and heartless place, we press on to make the world a little less cold and a little less heartless.
That is success.
It is so easy to forget that everyone is doing the best they can, with what they have, and what they know. Remembering that, and treating people accordingly, is a success.
Surviving in the face of adverse conditions, as the poor do, is a success. And yet, dying poor is not indicative of failure.
Achieving a goal is praiseworthy. Willpower is admirable. But we ought not determine human worth by our own personal, narrow definition of success. Instead, try to remember a human being is not the sum of their achievements, their habits, or what we may perceive as failures. That ALL OF US are worthy of respect and love.
Go in peace.
