I was cleaning the toilet the other day. Bare-handed. And honestly, bitching about it in my head. I just hate cleaning things that clean things... but I digress.
I’m wiping down the objectively grossest thing in the house, internally bitching about how disgusting it is — especially because I sliced my finger open that morning and, despite it being bandaged, I’m now exposing it to literal shit.
And then I looked over. There is an entire box of gloves sitting right there.
Renae. Put the damn gloves on.
Why am I raw dogging the dirtiest job in the house while actively complaining about how gross it is, when the thing that would make it easier is TWO FEET AWAY FROM ME?
And then it hit me...
Oh. I do this with my entire fucking life. But apparently, deep down, I prefer hard mode.
See, I have spent a lot of my life doing things the hardest possible way. Then bitching because they’re hard (not necessarily to others, just an overall internal belief that life is hard).
And here's the part that's considerably less flattering:
Sometimes when I see someone else receiving support or having something made easier for them, there’s a little part of me that thinks:
Well, I didn’t have any help.
Okay... And what exactly is that supposed to mean, Renae? That they shouldn’t get help because I didn’t? Apparently?! 🥴
The fuck kind of logic is that?... I wish someone had helped me, therefore you should also struggle unnecessarily.
Makes perfect sense. Except it doesn’t. At all.
· · ·
But then I sat with the “I Had No Support” thinking in my brain. Which has been uncomfortable to look at.
During the stretch of surgeries I went through, I could have used a LOT of help. For over a year, I couldn't feel my left leg. My right leg hurt so badly there were times I couldn't bear weight on it.
During some of the recoveries, I couldn't shower by myself. I couldn't wash my own hair for weeks.
And honestly? That's embarrassing to admit to someone who isn't your mom.
I still went to work every day on light duty. I was still doing full gigs throughout the month. I was on a shitload of medication. There were stretches where I didn't even feel like myself. I think we even lost some gigs because of it, if I'm being completely frank.
But most people had no idea how bad things actually were. Because I made damn sure they didn't. I played it off like everything was fine for almost two years.
And then I'd turn around and think:
I have no support.
Except... Did I actually have no support? Or did nobody know I needed it because I wouldn't fucking tell them?
Because I would bet your bottom dollar that if I had called almost any person I consider a real friend and said:
Hey. This is actually really bad. I need help.
They would have shown up. But I didn't give them the opportunity. I decided I had to handle it myself.
And then used having to handle it myself as evidence that I was alone. Let that sink in.
I was cleaning the toilet without gloves again.
· · ·
But life may be handing me a do-over. Recently, I found out I may need another surgery because of a complication from the first one.
When I first found out, I was devastated. Because COME ON. I thought this shit was behind me. After three fucking years, I finally feel physically good again. I feel strong. I feel like myself.
And now I might have to get set back...
again?!
Initially, that's all I could see.
But the longer I've sat with it, the more I've started wondering whether this might also be an opportunity to do something very differently this time.
The first round forced me to start leaving behind an identity that had burned me the fuck out.
The woman who could handle it all. Who could push through anything. Who didn't need anybody. Who would sacrifice herself before admitting something was too much.
But apparently there was another layer underneath it: The belief that I'm alone — and therefore I have to do everything alone.
Maybe this time isn't about proving how well I can handle another hard thing. Maybe it's about teaching my nervous system that I don't have to.
That I can let my guard down.
I can tell people when I'm struggling.
I can accept the fucking help.
I can let someone wash my hair without turning it into a referendum on my strength and independence.
Because needing support doesn't mean I'm incapable. And doing something the hardest possible way doesn't make the outcome more valuable.
· · ·
This Week’s Practice: Find Your Gloves
I don't think most of us consciously decide to make our lives harder. We've just repeated certain ways of doing things for so long that we don't realize there are other options.
So this week, catch yourself when you're internally saying:
- Why is this so fucking hard?
And before assuming the answer is because life is hard, ask yourself the "where are my gloves" type of questions:
- Where am I refusing help?
- Where am I making something harder because I think I should be able to handle it?
- Where am I refusing an easier option because struggling feels more familiar?
- Where am I expecting people to know I need support without ever actually asking them for it?
You don't get extra points because you suffered more on the way there. There's no trophy for raw dogging life.
Sometimes the breakthrough isn't another strategy, another healing modality, or another lesson you need to learn.
Sometimes... you just need to put the damn gloves on.
And apparently I needed a toilet to teach me that one.
· · ·
🎧 This Week on the Hustle Rebels Podcast
🎙️ In Case You Missed It...Last week, I talked about the downside of being the person who always has something to prove.
For me, that started as the overweight girl on the varsity softball team determined to prove she deserved more than the bench — and followed me all the way into becoming the first and only woman in my fire department.
The lesson became: When people underestimate you, work harder and prove them wrong.
Useful... until it isn't.
Because eventually, competence gets rewarded with more work, perseverance becomes self-abandonment, and you're pouring your ambition into people and systems that aren't actually taking you anywhere.
The goal isn't to lose your ambition. It's to stop wasting it.
And this week...
That solo episode was actually inspired by my conversation with Robyn Godfrey, and this week you get to hear the conversation behind it.
If last week's episode made you recognize yourself a little more than you'd like, you'll want to hear where that conversation came from.
Listen to Hustle Rebels wherever you get your podcasts — and don't forget to subscribe so you don't miss the next one.
Watch on YouTube:
Listen Here: [When Hard Work Stops Working: Burnout and the Need to Prove Yourself]
· · ·
Maybe this week you don't need to prove that you can handle more. Maybe you just need to notice where you've been making life unnecessarily difficult...
and put the damn gloves on.
See you next week
- Renae
Wayward Wellness Coaching
Hustle Rebels Podcast
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