"Hard" is relative.

I've had a hard couple of days. And before that, a hard couple of weeks.

The last few days I've performed several long recitals which involved lots of repertoire. As a collaborative pianist, I expect and enjoy this. But it requires a lot of functionality, a lot of concentration, perfect execution at the exact right moment, many notes played, many notes read. After the most recent performance, I needed a mental break.

Before that my hard weeks were caused by much turmoil in my heart and soul about life direction, my husband's vocation, my vocation. Am I doing the right things with my time? Am I cheating my child out of much-needed time with her mother? Is it time to have another child? Do I have to subscribe to the world's way of mothers staying at home and fathers going off to work? Having so many unanswered questions about life can be unsatisfying and draining.

Before that I had to complete a massive project for work. I spent countless extra hours sorting, writing, copying, organizing. None of which I was paid for.

But then. I interacted yesterday with another pianist much like me, who carries a big performance load, who had all sorts of additional peripheral life demands that they were tackling: school, other jobs, etc. Next to that person I could easily see that I'm not the only one who has these particular types of demands.

And then. I have begun to know several wonderful women in my playgroup recently who are also transitioning through life, unsure of vocation, etc. And yet they're pregnant with another child. And they're boldly choosing to stay at home. And they're making sack lunches for their husbands. They're doing all of the things I am not sure of or don't have time for, and they seem just fine.

And then. I completed my huge work project. I harbored a few bitter feelings about not being paid (then gave them away). But my favorite colleague, who is in charge of this big project, so eloquently pointed out to me two days ago that my portion of this project is about 1/40 of the finished product. She's responsible for about 3/4 of the rest of it. Put in my place again.

Why do I feel that my life is so hard?

Is my life any more remarkable than the next person's? Why do I act as if others do not face huge questions, or that others don't have demands to use their skills, or that others aren't asked to do things with nothing in return, or that they aren't doing this while also being a parent to at least one child? In writing this post, I know that my feelings about life being "hard" are all relative.

But somewhere deep down I'm struggling to accept it. I have long made a pattern of convincing myself that my load is greater than others'. How wrong is this! How selfish and ignorant!

The things that make my life "hard" pale in comparison to many other humans throughout history.

I think I need a bit of perspective.