[N.B.: Today's "Ask Helen" comes from Vanessa Jean of The Goldenrod Chronicles, who didn't actually ask Helen—er, me—this question, but instead posed it to her Substack readers back in January. I asked her if I could answer it here, in my newsletter, and she agreed.]
As a people-pleaser. As a doer. As someone with a Lifetime Achievement Award in achievement. As a someone with some pride. And also as a recovering perfectionist:
HOW HARD ARE WE SUPPOSED TO WORK?
I am not asking ‘what is the bare minimum one must achieve’ in order to keep a job. I just mean, like—how much effort and with what intensity and how hard should one work?
Dear Vanessa,
I've got a short answer and a long answer for you. The short answer takes your question at face value, while the long answer pokes at it—not in an effort to invalidate what you're asking, but more to draw your attention to the innocent but insidious assumptions and efficiencies that the mind makes in posing such a question in the first place.
THE SHORT ANSWER
One ought to work however hard they want, knowing and appreciating that 1. their ability and/or inclination to 'work hard' is entirely dependent on a series of variables that are constantly changing and not even mostly controllable, and 2. there is no rubric for measuring such a thing.
THE LONG ANSWER
Okay, buckle up. I'm going to break apart your question and analyze it somewhat philosophically, with the aim of getting to the heart of it—and what I suspect is your underlying concern.
“How hard”
What is 'hard'?
Does it mean diligent and singularly focused? Or punishing and arduous?
Does it mean hours spent? Calories burned? Number of personal needs forgone?
Does it mean you need to lose yourself in the task at hand? Or count down the minutes until it's over?
Your mind might try to sweep away all these questions by saying, Oh, she's just splitting hairs! She knows what you mean! Everyone knows what it means to work hard!
And I would respond, "How convenient, Vanessa's mind, that you're choosing such a nebulous and unquantifiable word by which to measure Vanessa's efforts!"
This is how minds often operate. They tell us we're not working hard enough, but they're unable to clearly and consistently define what 'hard' means.
"are we"
Who is 'we'? All of humankind?
And can we really group everyone together like that and use the same metric for effort? Is there such thing as one-size-fits-all when it comes to working hard?
Or does 'we' include only those people who have crossed a certain educational threshold? Maybe people who are of similar intellectual ability?
Is 'we' only those who have specific financial needs? What about folks with particular goals or career aspirations versus those who have none, or folks who are inherently talented in some area versus those who are pursuing something that doesn't come naturally to them?
Even if you changed "are we" to "am I," as in, "How hard am I supposed to work?" many questions would remain. I'd want to know, compared to what, compared to whom?
The mind that groups us all together and poses a question about a general 'we' is, somehow, the same mind that will compare us unfavorably to others in one instance and convinces us we've worked harder than our lazy coworker in another. The mind is full of contradictions!
"supposed to"
According to whom? Who is measuring or judging? Whose standard is this? Who is the voice behind this phrase, 'supposed to'? And who could really tell, one way or the other, if you're fulfilling this ill-defined standard?
Your mind will try to fight me on this (it will probably find some really good examples to counter the following statements, but that doesn't change their truthfulness):
There is no such thing as 'supposed to'. There are no adults in the building, no true authority figures, no universal rules governing work, no best practices, no rubrics or measuring sticks, no moral imperatives. None of it exists.
All that exists is what is. 'Supposed to' implies there's a way it should be going...which isn't reality. (Reality is what's actually happening.)
If you were asking your question about this exact moment, I'd want to know what your energy is like in this exact moment—and by the time you answered, it would be a different moment, and your energy would have likely fluctuated—so, how hard you could have worked in that past moment would've depended on (among other factors) your energy level in that moment. And since your energy is an ever-changing variable, the 'hardness' of your work efforts are correspondingly dynamic.
It's all in flux. All the time. No exceptions. Change is the only constant.
Very innocently, the mind creates a set of rules (in an effort to keep you safe—a totally loving gesture, but misguided!) and then operates from that set of rules as though it's universally-recognized law. As though the very same mind isn't the source of those rules in the first place. 'Supposed to' is a telltale sign that the mind is holding you to something that feels really real...but that's actually of the mind's own creation.
"work?"
Are you referring to paid work? Does unpaid work count, too? What about underpaid work? And how about overpaid work? Does this question apply to folks who work in a volunteer capacity?
Does 'work' include work that feels more like play, regardless of pay?
Does it include illegal work?
Are all forms of 'work' created equal? Even if everyone's abilities were equal, would all kinds of work merit the same level of effort?
The mind oversimplifies. It uses a blanket term such as 'work' for something that's actually far more complicated, because it isn't interested in details; it's a thinking machine, striving for efficiency. It equates your work with the work of all people in the world, as though it's all the same and there's a single, morally-supported standard of effort—with a rubric for measuring said effort. The mind is incredibly reductive. It doesn't win any awards for nuance.
What I think you might really be asking
I suspect your mind has thought up such a question because, at some point, it wanted a concrete measurement by which to gauge your personal efforts. It wanted to compare (minds love to compare), it wanted some certainty (minds loooove certainty—even if it *is* always the illusion of such), and it wanted to keep you in check (minds love to manage us and maintain the status quo).
You see how this is, very likely, just a habituated thought, right? As I hope to have proved above, a mind can only ask this question if it conveniently bypasses specificity and accuracy. And then a mind sustains this kind of question by asking it often enough (or by alluding to such a vague metric as 'hard') so as to make it feel familiar and, therefore, legitimate.
Just because your mind is asking this question doesn't mean it's something you, Vanessa, really want to know. Or that you even believe it's something you could know. It might just be a question your mind has posed before (many times before), and you're accustomed to taking it seriously, actually giving it some airtime in your head, and trying to solve it once and for all.
But underneath this cleverly-worded question that your mind cooked up ages ago is, I think, a desire to be the authority of your own life.
Am I okay with not working myself to death? Am I okay with not working as hard as I might’ve worked in the past? Am I okay with not working as hard as some part of me believes I should work? Am I okay with not working as hard as I sometimes believe I'm capable of working? Am I okay with the fact that life feels easier for me when I'm not holding myself to some arbitrary and purely imaginary standards of effort and toil and devotion to doing? Am I okay with just being; showing up at my job, doing the things I agreed to do, getting paid, and returning to the rest of my life?
Your mind has made it seem like a legitimate question to outsource (this is something all minds do)—when, really, it's another case of an inside job.
Are you comfortable working however you want to work in any given moment? And, if you're not comfortable, can you welcome those uncomfortable feelings, and let them hang out a while until they shift? (They will shift; they always shift.)
I hope this helps!
Love,
Helen