Choose Your Hard

You might have noticed that it’s been a couple of months since the last newsletter landed in your inbox.

I love writing these. I also happen to be a human running a business, and sometimes life gets in the way. The days fill up, something needs more attention than I expected, and the thing I was looking forward to writing gets pushed back another week.

Sometimes you have to decide what needs you most and let a few other things wait. Lately, this newsletter has been one of those things.

There’s a little irony in coming back from that pause to write about consistency. But maybe that makes it a fitting place to start. I’m practicing it too, including learning how to come back when I haven’t kept up the way I intended.

Running your own business is hard.

Working for someone else is hard, too.

I’ve been thinking about how easy it is to imagine another version of your life being simpler. Someone else would handle the scheduling, make the decisions, and be responsible when something went wrong. You could finish your workday and, at least in theory, leave work at work.

There’s a lot to appreciate about that. But working for someone else comes with its own frustrations: less control over your time, decisions you don’t agree with, and having to ask permission for things you’d rather decide for yourself.

Owning my business has been one of the hardest things I’ve ever done. It has also been one of the most rewarding, fulfilling, and freeing.

Those things exist together. I can love what I do and still feel overwhelmed by everything it asks of me. I can be grateful for the freedom and occasionally wish someone else were in charge of answering the emails.

The Ordinary Tuesday

When I think about the life I want, this work makes sense to me. The responsibility comes with the ability to build something I care about. There’s uncertainty, and there’s also the satisfaction of watching something grow because I kept showing up for it.

That last part is probably the hardest: continuing to show up.

An exciting idea can carry you for a little while. Motivation can get you started. Eventually, though, there’s an ordinary Tuesday when you’re tired, nothing particularly exciting is happening, and the work still needs to be done.

I think consistency does a lot of its character building on those Tuesdays.

And, as usual, I find myself thinking about dogs.

Living with a dog who struggles with behavior can be exhausting. There’s the walk you have to plan around everyone else’s walking schedule. The visitor you’re nervous about inviting over. The feeling that you’re always anticipating something, managing something, or recovering from something.

There can be a quiet grief in it, too. You love your dog, but life together looks different from what you pictured. Maybe you imagined easy walks, trips to a patio, or having friends over without thinking through every detail first.

Then someone suggests training, and suddenly there’s even more to do.

Practice this. Change that routine. Pay attention to your timing. Prepare before the situation happens. Repeat it tomorrow and every day after.

You’re already tired from living with the problem, and now the path forward seems to require more energy from you.

Living with a dog who struggles with behavior is hard.

Training a dog who struggles with behavior is hard, too.

Choose your hard.

I don’t say that lightly. You’re already putting effort into life with your dog. Training asks you to put some of that energy toward something that can give you more options over time.

Familiar Doesn’t Always Mean Easier

Training sometimes asks us to change a habit that feels perfectly natural to us but keeps creating confusion for our dog. Sometimes it asks us to slow down when we desperately just want things to feel normal.

It can be uncomfortable to discover how much our own participation matters.

I run into that in business ownership, too. There are things that become more manageable only when I change how I approach them. Wishing, worrying, and getting frustrated can take up a surprising amount of energy without actually ever moving anything forward.

Familiar problems have a way of feeling easier than unfamiliar solutions.

Take a dog who loses their mind every time someone comes through the door. You may have spent months rehearsing your own routine: hear the knock, rush to the door, grab the collar, apologize to your guest, try to talk over the barking.

You can probably do it without thinking.

Preparing ahead of time feels like extra work. Having a leash ready. Setting up some space. Practicing when there isn’t a guest waiting outside.

But the routine you already have is work, too. It just arrives in a rush, usually at the least convenient moment.

Continuing as we are has a cost. We’ve simply become accustomed to paying it.

When an owner practices with their dog in a manageable situation, they’re choosing where some of that effort goes. They’re giving themselves and their dog a chance to learn before everyone is overwhelmed.

There’s something freeing about that, even when it doesn’t feel particularly freeing at first.

Consistency Has to Fit a Real Life

Of course, effort doesn’t give us complete control. Dogs have their own histories, temperaments, needs, and limits. Progress can be uneven. Some dogs will need ongoing support and management. A difficult week doesn’t mean you haven’t worked hard enough.

Choosing worthwhile work also means choosing work you can realistically sustain. If the plan only works when you have endless patience and a completely empty calendar, it probably needs adjusting.

Sometimes consistency means a few thoughtful minutes of practice. Sometimes it means preparing the environment so your dog can succeed, asking for help, or recognizing that today calls for a simpler version of the plan.

It also means learning to return.

A busy week happens. You get sick. Your attention is needed somewhere else. You realize you haven’t practiced in a while.

It’s easy to turn that pause into a story about yourself: I’m bad at this. I never follow through. I’ve already messed it up.

But struggling with consistency doesn’t have to mean you stop showing up altogether.

Missing a few days doesn’t make the next few minutes of practice pointless. You can still pick up the leash, work through something simple, or prepare a little better for the next situation. The effort you can give today still counts.

I have to remind myself of that, too. Missing one newsletter can become missing another, especially when I start feeling like coming back requires something exceptional to make up for the gap. Eventually, that pressure becomes one more reason to put it off.

Sometimes showing up again is simply sitting down to write.

Sometimes it’s taking your dog outside for five thoughtful minutes.

You can acknowledge that you haven’t been as consistent as you intended and still decide to show up today. Learning how to come back is part of learning how to keep going.

The Work That Gives Something Back

Over time, your choices can add up to something that feels different.

You notice your dog recover more quickly. You recognize a situation sooner and know what to do. A walk that used to leave you upset becomes manageable. You have a difficult moment, but it doesn’t take over the rest of your day.

Your confidence grows alongside your dog’s skills.

That’s one of the most rewarding parts of this work: watching someone begin to trust their own ability to help their dog. There’s still effort involved, but they feel less lost inside it.

I recognize that feeling. Building my business has taught me things about patience, responsibility, and following through that I’m still learning. It has asked me to become more capable in ways I couldn’t have anticipated.

And it has given me a life I care deeply about.

So when I think about choosing your hard, I think about where that effort might take you. What it might make possible. Whether it helps you build a daily life you want.

If life with your dog feels difficult right now, perhaps that’s a useful place to begin:

What is one manageable piece of work that could make tomorrow a little better?

You don’t need to solve your whole life together this week. A small change, repeated often enough, can give you somewhere to start. And if you lose your rhythm along the way, you can always come back.

Some of the most meaningful freedom I’ve found has come from things I had to practice.