Month 1, Schedule Decluttering. Step 4: Say 'No'

This exercise started out simply.

I said 'no' to several small requests (which felt like Napoleonic victories, if Napoleon had won at Waterloo instead of just brunching there), but as the days passed, a much larger 'yes' or 'no' loomed. In January, I reached out to my physics research advisor because I missed the challenge of solving problems on the cusp of my own ability – apparently teaching teenagers hadn't provided enough existential puzzles. It was decided that we would talk again in April and at that time commit to another research project or let the idea drop. It was all prefaced with 'low-key' terminology.

As a source of inspiration for this month's theme, I reread The Ruthless Elimination of Hurry by John Mark Comer. There was a poignant line which read something like, "Every 'yes' is a thousand 'no's." It hit me hard.

In the United States, we worship at the altar of unlimited options. We're all about freedom and living without limitations, and we love these ideas because we believe they will bring us happiness. "Life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness," right? It is often forgotten that happiness is frequently at odds with freedom, like how the "all-you-can-eat buffet" is at odds with "fitting into your pants tomorrow."

I can't enjoy a healthy romantic relationship without denying myself the freedom to be in a relationship with literally any other person on the planet. One 'yes' is eight billion 'no's. (As it happens, I'm still looking for this one 'yes', so if you're out there... no pressure, but the rest of humanity is breathing a sigh of relief.)

I can't eat everything on the menu, I must choose. $30.00 of 'yes' is $1,000 of 'no'.

I can't master (or even try) every single hobby in existence... Though my physical decluttering steps revealed that I've made a valiant effort.

I can't be everywhere at once.

I can't.

And that's okay.

Some of us can handle more 'yes's than others. As for me, though I love the majority of the things I do, I would probably be happier if I let go of some 'freedom' and focused on enjoying the 'yes's which remain. At least, that sounds more appealing than constantly wondering if I should be somewhere else doing something more important more quickly.

For my physics research, I was terribly torn. I love physics, and I love playing with hard math and puzzles of the universe… but I also love gardening and photography and music. And sleep. Occasionally eating. Was this 'yes' worth all those other 'no's? Would this 'yes' undoubtedly result in all those other 'no's? After all, I still teach high school science and that is still a serious challenge (albeit of an entirely different sort, featuring such lessons as, “Don’t lick the lab equipment” and, “Gravity existed before Isaac Newton”).

I couldn't muster a flat and unequivocal 'no'. My advisor is such a kind and brilliant person that people simply fall over themselves to work with him. Myself included. While some students suffer under demanding advisors who don't respect boundaries, my advisor is so lovely that without prompting I want to work harder, longer, and better for him. The boundary issue is squarely on me when I run myself ragged. So, I figured, if I could set and maintain my own clear and realistic boundaries, I could do my extra science.

I contacted my advisor and explained my limitations and decently time-restrictive boundaries. As is the way when messaging advisors, I spent hours composing an email and the rest of the day wondering why I had been so bold as to send it.

I received a more relaxed response, which reminded me that my advisor was lovely and perfectly respectful of boundaries (which really were quite restrictive). Ah! I love my advisor.