HUSTLING FOR LOVE

I’m a hustler.

Don’t believe me? It’s true. I say yes to just about anything asked of me. I go way above and beyond for the people I care about. I’m the one who can always be counted on to show up and take charge. That’s my hustle. I do it for love. I do it out of a place of fear. Deep down, I’m afraid that if I don’t keep saying yes, if I don’t do backflips and cartwheels to make the people I love comfortable and happy, they will reject me. They’ll realize that I’m not worth loving and this has all been a relationship of convenience. You know the kind, where if circumstances aren’t just right, if the other person isn’t making your life easier, it no longer seems so appealing. That’s right, I’m like that guy or girl you’ve been casually dating and suddenly realized you’re just not that into. Or so my fears go.

I didn’t know that I was a hustler until I read Brene Brown’s The Gifts of Imperfection. This groundbreaking book on vulnerability, worthiness and shame lays out 10 guideposts for how to let go of who we think we’re supposed to be and live a more wholehearted life. Before she dives into these 10 guideposts, she talks about love, belonging and being enough. She shares, “When we spend a lifetime trying to distance ourselves from the part of our lives that don’t fit with who we think we’re supposed to be, we stand outside of our story and hustle for our worthiness by constantly performing, perfecting, pleasing and proving.”

Performing, perfecting, pleasing and proving. Twenty-three pages into this self-help book, and my life’s main interpersonal strategy is staring up at me from the page, underneath a cute graphic of two hands forming the shape of a heart, flanked by fluffy white clouds. Heat radiates up my neck and face as I recognize myself in these words. How the hell does she know about this? And then I keep reading. On the next page, “Here’s what is truly at the heart of Wholeheartedness: Worthy now. Not if. Not when. When we are worthy of love and belonging now. Right this minute. As is.”

And then I get it. I sink down into a profound slump, my shoulders levelling with my ears. Feeling defeated. Constant effort and activity does not equal worthiness. It’s just a hustle. I start to think about what this looks like for me. Every holiday with my family. The planning-shopping-cooking-cleaning frenzy until I’m totally wiped out and everyone’s enjoying themselves. The all-day sprint to Thanksgiving dinner on the table and I’m just grateful for a chair to sit down in. The elaborate baby/bridal/birthday parties with sickeningly meticulous handmade decorations and tiny heart shaped tea sandwiches topped with microgreens. Seriously! Microgreens!

I think back to some of the bigger hustles of the past. Like the year my mom sold the home we grew up in. It was packed full of our collective stuff and badly in need of repairs and painting. Weekend after weekend, my new boyfriend and future husband and I would drive over to her house to paint, organize, pack and haul away. My mom was stressed out and often grumpy during these weekends. She was disorganized, frequently lost in the miasma of discovering old treasures. A scavenged photo album of my sisters and I as soft, rounded, pink toddlers would take up most of an entire day.  Her moth-eaten childhood costumes would be unearthed, clucked over and lovingly repacked as the late morning stretched into early afternoon. Often, I had to take charge of the work in order for us to make forward progress.

And still, we showed up every weekend for another round. At one point during the proceedings, she shared with me that our aging lab was failing and wouldn’t have the strength to make the move to the new place. My mom just could not find it in herself to take the dog to the vet to be put to sleep. Would I do it? Of course I would, I’m a hustler.

I found myself sitting in the parking lot of the local animal shelter, petting the white coarse muzzle of my old friend as she looked at me, puzzled by the treat I had pulled out for her. Our family dog’s last meal, her favorite: peanut butter and chocolate. For her, usually procured through sneaking and great effort, rooting around in teenage dresser drawers or pantry cupboards left open. As I fed her the king-sized Reese’s peanut butter cups, I thought about what I was about to do, and how I felt about it. For the best. But why me? Why did I say yes to this? I wondered what my mom’s dog was thinking. Has she lost it? She’s giving me peanut butter cups?! It felt like a betrayal, and also an act of loyalty. A betrayal to our family dog, who had no idea what was about to happen. An act of loyalty to my mom and protection against all of the things she didn’t want to face. The dependable daughter hustling for love because that’s what she did. Even when it meant putting her old friend to rest.

So yeah, I’m a hustler. Or maybe a reformed one. Since reading The Gifts of Imperfection, things have changed for me. I’ve decided to see what love is like for its own sake, without any performing or pleasing. I have a sticky on my desk that says, “Before I say yes, ask myself why.” Is this the kind of habitual yes that’s given because it’s easier than saying no? Is it the kind of yes I give because I’m afraid of the rejection that may come if I decline? Or is it a wholehearted yes, one that will bring me joy and fulfillment? I want more of this last kind of yes in my life. This is the true yes, given without fear and for the right reasons. This yes says, “I’m worthy of love. Right now. No hustle required.”

Are you a hustler, or a reformed one? Have you found the balance between loving service to others and honoring your own boundaries? For many of us, these are deep seated habits that are hard to change. A coach is a great partner for finding awareness of the reasons behind our yes, and giving them with greater intention. Reach out today to see how coaching can help you end the hustle and experience being worthy of love just as you are.