A bit of good is still good
I spent my summer as a fifteen-year-old working on construction sites in Southern California for my grandfather. Like many caring grandparents, he cared deeply that I learn to do things the “right way” in life. His way.
I learned how much he cared when he barked “Hey, what do you think you’re doing over there?” across the room and pointed at me in scorn while his other laborers kept working. My cousin worked beside me, but he knew what was coming and stopped to watch. It’s so hard to look away from a train wreck.
The house in Southern California where my grandfather’s ire taught me about his beef with ”put jobs”
“That thing you just did there. That’s a ‘put job.’ You just put the damned thing down over there. You just made another job you’ll have to do later,” he seethed. He made me go back to complete the job and stooped over me to watch me finish the work his way.
My grandfather humiliated me publicly. I fumed silently—talking back wouldn’t save any face.
After he stopped micromanaging my task, I simmered down and figured out that it’s not so hard for a job site flunky to do things the boss’s way.
My grandfather was a very clever and intelligent man. There’s a certain logic to seeing a task through to completion. A principle sat encapsulated in his vitriol. I latched onto that principle, both as a way to work effectively and to avoid further humiliation beyond that low-stakes summer job site. Maybe it could help me avoid humiliation in life too.
Runaway principle
A burden carried by most gay men is that “if you are to be loved, you must hide the truth about yourself and work at being lovable.” 1 Grandpa’s ‘put job’ lesson sailed into the past, but I reasoned that I could work at being consistently loved if I finished my responsibilities to completion.
Homework assignment? Done. Student council task? Completed. If I started a task, I would see it through. My teachers and church leaders commended my skills and gave me more of their dreams to bring to life. A one-of-a-kind religious retreat for graduating high school boys? Yep. Provide pro-bono graphic design for all mayoral candidates in town? Sure!
The ever-growing list of demands that my lovability rode on became untenable. Grandpa’s principle taught me to get the job done once I started: it didn’t stipulate when I would pick it up.
Why else would I bother to corrupt a PDF file right before a class deadline? Who knew that it would take a teaching assistant a day or two to try to open it for grading? They’d just ask me to re-upload my file. They’d still love me, especially when they saw my dazzling work.
Speaking of making a good impression, picking up a job and doing it “all the way” also invites what project managers call scope creep. I shouldn’t just floss my teeth… I can only be loved if I’ve ensured the floss is biodegradable and won’t harm marine life. In fact—should I even start flossing if I only have time to get three spots? That’d be a waste of floss.
This principle was showing its diminishing returns. I couldn’t see it—not with my lovability in the balance.
Atlas I am not
Moving into an apartment while going through divorce and raising four young kids sucked. Attempting to do it without a single fucking “put job” was one of my more insane undertakings in life. My entire world rode on my shoulders. Grit, determination, and belief in the power of my grandfather’s shame-based principle got me through. I did it. Slay.
Keeping it all up after moving in weighed heavily. Work, laundry, meal prep, quality time with kids… it all slowly dragged me into a pit of anxiety and depression.
Therapy and antidepressants kept me functional. I’m grateful they exist. They gave me a chance by burning off some of the fog in my brain. Once I could gaze into my mind more clearly, I could start deconstructing what emerged from my grandfather’s humiliating train wreck from twenty years prior. Two new memories stick with me just as well as that job site clash.
First: I had recently started dating someone new. I winced when I watched him toss a dirty rag to the floor from the kitchen. “Why’d you do that?,” I quizzed. He said things just need to move in the right direction and they’ll eventually get there. The tossed rag had landed midway between the washing machine. Later in the morning, it and several other rags dove into a washing machine with steaming hot water and bleach. Nick’s example showed me the work would get done with less fuss and that I’d still be lovable.
Back at my place with my kids, I still got easily overwhelmed fighting the urge to stick with a task until it was completely done. Some kind people on the internet suggested K.C. Davis’ book “How to Keep House While Drowning” Bookshop.org | Libby. Her story helped me see how common it is to feel overwhelmed, with each page giving me new snapshots of ways to treat myself with kindness. This reinforced what I watched Nick do.
The good keeps coming
A little bit of a good thing remains a fundamentally good thing. If I only have the time or energy to do that little bit, I can still hold my head high. Things will get where they need to.