Although “mental endurance” is more wordy than “grit”, I prefer the extra syllables. “Grit” sounds difficult and uncomfortable: Jaws clenched, the jagged surfaces of molars grinding together, or granules of sand scratching the surface of your eyeball.
“Grit” also suggests firmness and unyielding. It doesn’t matter what the conditions are: I will not change my strategy or tactics. I will not bend, even if I might break.
“Mental endurance” offers more flexibility. There is room to breathe. Maybe you can keep more enamel on your teeth.
When Things Are Hard, how can we unclench our jaws? When we run psychological marathons we did not sign up for, how can we keep moving without falling down from exhaustion or heartache? How can we practice and manifest mental endurance?
Build and commit to routines. If the word “ritual” is more pleasing to your ear, build and commit to rituals. This includes the essentials of eating, sleeping, and other healthful activities. (Without a basic foundation, any type of endurance is hard to achieve.) Creating and sticking to routines brings comfort when most things seem out of control. Rituals help us feel like we have agency over something. To start, the less profound the ritual, the better:
- Make the bed every morning.
- Always say “thank you” to the bus driver, even if they don’t make eye contact with you and look like they’re grinding the enamel off of their teeth.
- After you put your kids in the car and shut their door, make a point of taking three full breaths before you get in to drive.
No one has to know what your routines are or the reasons behind them. Maybe you run because you actually want to run away from your problems. Maybe you watch the same video on YouTube before bed because it increases the chances that you will fall asleep. Maybe you behold the cereal in your bowl and say thanks to all the nameless people who transformed and transported the cereal to you.
What matters is that you created a ritual. You’re choosing to do it. Within is freedom and power.
Pace yourself. Or, it’s okay to take a break. When Things Are Hard, we often want to get through All Of It as soon as possible. Who wants to feel psychologically uncomfortable?
However, the logical conclusion of this approach doesn’t make sense: Life is hard. If we want to get through the Hard Stuff as fast as possible, that means we should try to get through life as fast as possible. This is impossible. (Puberty over in 24 hours! bone fracture healing in five minutes! grief resolved in two seconds!)
Yes, there are often external pressures: The boss wants us to do something. The kids have a need that only you can fulfill. There isn’t enough money to deal with The Thing the way you’d like to deal with The Thing.
It’s okay to take a break. If you were able to think your way out of this problem, you would have already thought of the solution. Spending 30 minutes thinking about something else is nothing when you spend hours dwelling on The Thing. Your mind will welcome the break, too, because it needs it. (Epiphanies seem to arrive when we give our mind a break: showering, doing our laundry, etc.)
Talk with people you trust. Many burdens are not meant to be carried alone. If someone is able and willing to help lift the burden from your mind, or at least shift it so you can adjust your psychological grip, not only are you blessed, but you are also letting someone help you. Sometimes our grip is so tight on The Thing because we insist on bearing it ourselves. (What would it mean if we let someone help us? Does it mean that we’re weak? unreliable? a failure?) Olympians and chess grandmasters all have coaches and esteemed colleagues. Amateur chefs share their dishes with tasters and amateur writers share their words on blogs. While it may be true that no one in your social circle has been through what you’re going through, that doesn’t mean that they are useless. Support, attention, and care from others has value. It’s okay to unclench.
Remember that everything changes. Things may not change as fast as we want them to, but everything changes. What feels intolerable now will one day be a memory. We ourselves change because of The Thing; our values will shift and we will make different choices. With heartbreak, we might ultimately discover more love flowing through our lives. Instead of the friction associated with grit, there can be a softening, a light, gentle expansion of our hearts. There is room to breathe. Our bigger hearts will buoy us forward for whatever changes await us next.
Maria Yang, MD 