“Why am I the only one who cares about this?”
When that question runs through my head, I know that I am pushing on strings.
What are strings?
They are problems, just lying there on my desk, waiting for someone to make them move. If I am lucky, my problems are shoelaces and at least they have that plastic coating on the ends so I can get a bit of a head start, feel like I am making some short-term progress. But in the end, they are still flexible and soft, and not willing to move in the direction I want them to.
I love a good tug of war. I love pulling on a problem that feels like someone on the other end is pulling back. There is a great sense of accomplishment in conquering things that are hard, in fighting against a known adversity. Throw in whatever clichés you want to here. Working hard to overcome is deeply fulfilling, even if there are some bruises and sore muscles along the way. Even if the rope slips out of my hands and goes in the other direction. We created movement. Someone cared.
How do I know I am pushing on a string?
No one else seems to care. Surely the string doesn’t care. If it did, it would be more cooperative, it would be more rigid, it would let itself be pushed along. Someone might be on the other end, pulling it along. Pushing on strings is a lonely task.
What do I do about strings?
Sometimes I find more of them. Perhaps because misery loves company? Perhaps it makes me feel busy and important. At least I can spread my attention around until one of the strings firms up, until someone picks up the other end and pulls.
Sometimes I drop them, muttering as I go, “If no one else cares about this then I won’t either,” in a petulant, snotty kind of way.
Some strings are important enough to keep pushing on, even if you are doing it alone. And some are not. Each of them deserves an honest assessment and a chance to make their case.
How do you know you are pushing on a string, and what do you do about it? I would love to hear your thoughts.