ithinkminh

I wish I didn’t work so hard.  Born in the year of the Ox according to Chinese Astrology, I  proud myself in being a hard worker, I have been a hard worker all my life.  Society rewards those that work hard.  Successful people are often quote saying things like,  “There are no secrets to success. It is the result of preparation, hard work, and learning from failure.”  But does working hard really result in being more successful? I’m beginning to not believe in that mantra as much anymore.  Don’t get me wrong, that doesn’t mean I’m just going to slack off, I think I might get ill from that because it’s so out of character, being an Ox and all.  Let’s look at some test cases to demonstrate this point that working harder doesn’t result in greater success or happiness.  My family and every single individuals in my immediate family would by any standards be considered hard working people.  I wish that we didn’t have to work so hard, maybe things would be different. 

My father worked as a laborer at ConAgra Frozen Foods when we first arrived to the United States 17 years ago.  Although young at the time, I remembered his wet hair, and completely soaked tee shirt discolored and aged like coffee paper. He would often complained of back and shoulder pain and yet with physical therapy he continued on, like an old rusty engine that run, but you have that queasy feeling that it could give out unexpectedly.  When my father couldn’t keep up with that demanding job anymore, he found work as a colored print shop technician.  He didn’t have a single clean shirt or pant.  You can see the color pigments stuck to his fingernails, hair, and skin after work.  Of course they wear masks at work, but it makes you wonder if the stuff coats his lungs as well.  My father who came to the States many years ago, who still doesn’t English, and walk with a limp, but too proud to use an assistive walking stick, worked hard and paid his dues.  He did what he had to do to take care of the family, like the lone wolf looking after the pack.  Maybe he worked a little bit too hard.

My mother worked hard all her life.  Work was all that she knew.  Born into working, born into physical manual labor, that was my mother’s way of life.  My mother stands 4 foot 10 inches, weights 105lbs.  That’s about how much a 4th or 5th grader is in physical attributes.  She lasted at ConAgra longer than my dad, she made big men cry.  She would pick up extra shifts, and would sometimes work all 7 days. She would cook, clean, and cook day and night, maybe she was a bit crazy, maybe work drove her mad.  She was a happy person, she smiled often, and she ate a lot!  She worked at ConAgra even after she became very seriously sick, and we had no idea.  My mom never got her retirement, she deteriorated away in a relatively short period.  She worked way too hard. 

Looking back I wished that I had been more helpful, not that I was ever a problematic child, I was a contentious child, but I was just a child.  Had I been more helpful, my parents wouldn’t have had to work so hard. Had I been less needy of material things, maybe my mom wouldn’t have worked all those extra Saturdays and Sundays.  I’m extremely gracious for all the things that my parents have done for me, all the sacrifices that were made.  Looking back, had I been more understanding of our situation instead of comparing myself to others; my parents wouldn’t have been pressured to work so hard.