A digital journal capturing contemplations on life, friendship, purpose, and the subtle nuances that lie between the lines.

The Lost Art of Hard Work

Finding Focus: Relearning the Value of Hard Work in a World Full of Digital Distractions

A few moments ago, I found myself sitting at my long wooden dining table, indulging in a late breakfast—more like brunch, really. I’m a creature of habit, rarely deviating from my usual choice: avocado toast with grilled onions and seasoned eggs. With my plate set, I opened my laptop, ready to watch a YouTube video while I ate—a habit I’m trying to break, though that effort will resume with the next meal.

I have a slew of videos in my “watch later” playlist with a mix of editing tutorials, coding practices, discussion panels, and life advice. I decided to watch a video titled, “This video will make you WANT to work hard,” by a YouTuber named Your A+ Life. The title sounded promising.

Before I could hit play, the familiar whistle of my Bialetti caught my attention—coffee’s ready. I headed to the kitchen, turned off the stove, and moved the Bialetti off the heat (a lesson learned after once burning my coffee grounds). With a fresh cup in hand, I settled back at the table and finally pressed play.

The video was insightful, particularly in how it used the creator’s family as a poignant example to emphasize the forgotten art of hard work. The overarching message was a reminder of the privilege many of us have, allowing us to complain about work while neglecting the value of effort. This message resonated deeply with me, it made me wonder just how complacent I had become – am I the type of person who throws in the towel at the first sight of difficulty or challenge?

Before I continue, I want to take a moment to clarify what I mean by “complaining about work.” In rereading that phrase, I realize it could be misconstrued as being dismissive, perhaps evoking the same sentiment as Kim Kardashian’s controversial comment: “It seems like nobody wants to work these days.” That’s not what I intend. Coming from a low-middle-class family, I’ve seen firsthand the value of hard work. My parents, who immigrated here without knowing a word of English, taught me what it means to push through adversity to build the life you want. At the same time, I’ve experienced my fair share of burnout, fatigue, and the consequences of neglecting my mental health. I recognize that everyone’s circumstances are different.

To me, working “hard” can fall into two categories: obligatory work and work done out of personal will. How one distinguishes between the two is deeply personal. For some, work is a necessity—a means to sustain their livelihood and give them the freedom to pursue passions outside of it. For others, work may feel like a calling, driven by curiosity or enjoyment. Either way, the meaning of “working hard” is not a one-size-fits-all concept, and that’s an important distinction to make as we think about productivity and effort.

After finishing my breakfast, I took my coffee out to the patio. The warmth of the sun on my back, occasionally tempered by a gentle breeze, made for a pleasant escape. I closed my eyes, imagining myself under a beach umbrella, a small joy that made me smile. Although it’s late August, the high temperatures suggest we’re in for another warm fall.

Despite the peaceful moment, I felt an overwhelming exhaustion—not physical, but mental. My mind has been running an endless race, directionless, yearning for a finish line that never seems to appear. I’ve always seen myself as a hard worker, and I know I am when it counts. But lately, I’ve forgotten what it means to work hard without feeling burdened by pressure.

Each year, I make a list of goals, and each December, I look back with disappointment at how little I’ve “achieved.” I’ve come to realize two significant barriers that hold me back:

  1. The overwhelming feeling when starting something new.
  2. A distorted perception of how quickly results should materialize.

Oddly enough, starting is often the hardest part for me. My brain immediately shifts into planning mode. Take learning Spanish, for example. Living in the U.S., speaking Spanish is incredibly useful both socially and professionally. Also, since I’m often mistaken for being Mexican, I feel a strong desire to be able to communicate with those who approach me speaking Spanish, their hopeful eyes looking to me for assistance with their immediate concerns. This is my why.

But here’s where I get stuck: planning. I feel compelled to create an entire curriculum—topics to cover, vocabulary, conjugation, speaking practice, etc. Yet, I’m not a teacher, so I don’t know exactly what I need until I begin. When I do start, it’s often short-lived, as doubts creep in: “Am I doing this right?” “Is this efficient?” And the kicker: “Isn’t there a quicker way?” This brings me to my second challenge.

My warped sense of time has led to impatience and a loss of appreciation for gradual progress. Social media’s influence has certainly played a role in this. I used to read a book a week; now, I struggle to finish one in a month. I take breaks before even getting halfway through a task, and I’m constantly surrounded by screens demanding my attention. It wasn’t until I set goals that required focused, offline attention that I realized how difficult it has become for me. Even as I write this, I’ve checked my phone more times than I care to admit.

So, the question is: how do I unlearn these unproductive habits and retrain my brain? Here are a few small steps I’m going to implement immediately:

  • No screen time two hours before bed. I’ll use this time to journal, read, and unwind.
  • No screen time immediately after waking up. I’ll keep my phone away from my bed and use another device as an alarm.
  • No screen time while eating. I’ll focus on eating consciously.
  • DND mode whenever I’m working to avoid distractions from random notifications.

There’s more to figure out, and I’ll be researching the best strategies for this.

I’ve seen what hard work looks like—whether through peers or stories shared by strangers—and I know I haven’t fully dedicated myself to the crafts I want to learn. This is my commitment to change. I refuse to let my lack of hard work be the reason I don’t achieve my goals.

P.S.

As I write this, I find myself wanting to add endless caveats because the topic of hard work feels layered and complex, yet it’s often oversimplified in advice, teaching, and casual conversation. The truth is, no matter how hard we work, it can sometimes feel like the results don’t align with our efforts. On the other hand, some people feel content, their level of effort perfectly matching their desired outcome, and the question of “hard work” never comes up.

For me, the question is this: Am I content knowing I gave my all, regardless of the outcome, with no lingering “what if” regrets? Or do I accept things as they are and move forward? It’s in that in-between space—where dissatisfaction, anxiety, and doubt creep in—that we find ourselves wrestling with the choice to push harder or to embrace acceptance. And perhaps that’s the key: to produce different results, you must be willing to approach things differently.

I am on the brink, if not already past the point of rambling, so I’ll quote the question the YouTuber asked if it helps:

“Aren’t you curious about what your upper limit is?”

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