Endurance. Plus, or Minus?

It can be a skill and a curse.

I have been told in my life that I can endure. 

I haven’t always known quite how to take that. Was it an insult, compliment, or simple observation?

As an elder, I can look back now and begin to see my ability to endure as I am learning to see everything these days. Things can be both good and bad, can be a blessing or a curse. Our traits can be a skill and can also cause self-harm.

As a child, I had to learn how to endure. I was an only child of immigrant parents who were truly trying to do the best that they could, and in so doing, were incredibly strict. Since they were not familiar with the culture and what was a normal childhood here, I was not allowed to participate much in social activities after school, go to other folks’ houses, have sleepovers. I felt suffocated at times. 

I loved going to school. It got me out of the house and made it possible for me to interact with others. I worked hard to get them to like me, as I didn’t feel very lovable and figured out quickly how to get approval from teachers, which I loved. My father was strict, loved me fiercely, but was not all that affectionate or tender. My mother was loving in a way that could be clinging, wanting me to be with her and do everything that she liked and never be against her or be with anyone else much. She felt betrayed when I left to go to college, and even told a friend of mine later, when I was well into my 50s, that she never really forgave me for leaving her. 

Being a child in that house meant that I learned to do what I needed to do to survive until I could get out of there. I got good at enduring. Very good. 

 When it was time, I fought tooth and nail to go away to college, even using my school counselor to help me. I could feel it was a major turning point in my life and would truly determine my future. I got out. 

But I took that skill of enduring with me when I left home, which has not always served me well.

It means that I learned to put up with whatever was thrown at me. Sometimes I learned to feel that this was what I deserved, that I was unworthy and did not deserve to fight, to stand up in my own defense. I learned that I had no control, no right to any opinion other than what was allowed in my parents’ home, that I had no right. 

I even got bullied at home for allowing others to push me around. I got punished for allowing others to do what I had been taught to allow to have done to myself at home. A no-win situation.

Fast forward to adulthood.

What I learned, I applied. I could endure hard times and get through. That can be a good thing. I could endure the pain that life sometimes brings. Strength and perseverance in times of adversity can be a blessing.

I could also endure disrespect. That was not such a good thing. 

I could endure being treated less than. I sometimes didn’t even recognize when I was being abused emotionally or being bullied. I learned that lesson well at home as a child. I realized that it was time to let that lesson go. 

Now I am in elderhood, and I see that I need to look at this skill of endurance and assess when it is working for me or not.

I have new aches and pains. Are they part of aging, and I just need to deal with them and keep going? I recently finally went to the podiatrist for some foot pain and found out I have something that I can treat and help get better, something called metatarsalgia. I had just kept going thinking that this was the newest pain to learn to live with, but then, thankfully, thought that maybe I should get it checked out just in case there was something that I could do to help it. Now I have an orthopedic boot to wear, and physical therapy exercises to do. 

I used to endure what is less than disrespectful behavior and attitudes toward me. 

Now I know better. I don’t need to accept this toward myself. I don’t deserve it. I can choose to not be around that in whatever way works. I can ask the person to stop that and let them know how what they said or did was hurtful to me. If they can listen, hear that, and change, great. If that doesn’t work, I can choose to no longer have that person be a part of my life, or at least not as close. I don’t want to wish them any harm, but I also don’t have to accept that as part of what comes toward me that can get inside me. 

I have even learned to treat myself the way that I was sometimes treated. I now realize that I don’t need to do this and that I can do something different. I don’t have to accept and repeat those behaviors and attitudes toward myself that I learned to somehow think were what I deserved. I can stop that internal chorus of shame and blame inside my head. I can thank the internal jury for their service, as I know that I learned to do this as a way to try and protect myself, to beat others to the punch. I don’t need to do this anymore. 

I am no longer in a home (external or internal) where I have to repeat and accept things coming toward me that are not respectful or nurturing. I create my own home, external and internal, and I can choose what crosses the boundaries of those homes. 

I don’t have to accept comments about myself, my body, my ancestry, or anything. And I don’t have to accept that I should be able to take a joke. No, I don’t. Not at my own expense. No more. Jokes often carry hostility in them, and then get disguised as only kidding. 

I am working on a new skill, the skill of unlearning an old familiar pattern of always enduring. I am learning to tell the difference in what I should accept, and when I can say no more. No more always enduring. No more never speaking up and being quiet. No more silence in the face of pain. No more. 

We have enough to learn to accept and deal with as we age. We don’t need to add any more to that. We can set limits. We can endure what we must, and change what we can, live as fully as possible, and be our own best advocate, finally.