Doing Hard Things With People You Love

There is something powerful about doing hard things with people you love.

Not really hard things. Not life-changing, earth-shattering hard.

Just the kind of hard that requires a little more effort than you expected.

On holiday recently, we decided to adventure to the Red Beach.

Getting there required some commitment. We walked along a dusty path, scrambled up and over rocks and picked our way down towards the beach.

It was hot.

But actually, it wasn’t the heat that was the problem.

It was the wind.

The kind of wind that makes you lean your whole body into it. That whips your hair across your face, blows dust into your eyes and makes having a conversation almost impossible.

But we kept going.

And then, just before the final descent, something wonderfully surreal happened.

There, perched on the cliff, was a violinist.

In the middle of all that wild wind, surrounded by dramatic red rock and blue sea, he was playing the most exquisite music.

For a moment, I genuinely wondered whether we had stumbled into some kind of secret social experiment:

How much beauty can you notice when everything around you is making you uncomfortable?

I stopped.

I listened.

I looked out across the beach below us.

It was ridiculously picturesque.

And I remember wondering why so many people seemed to be walking away from this incredible place just as we were arriving.

Surely this was the reward for all that effort?

We soon found out.

The wind.

It didn’t stop when we reached the beach. If anything, it got worse.

We found our spot. We attempted to settle. We laughed. We battled the sand. We tried to enjoy the beautiful beach we had worked so hard to reach.

And about 30 minutes later…

we left too.

There’s a metaphor in there somewhere.

We often assume that if something is hard to reach, we should stay when we get there.

We’ve invested the effort.

We climbed the rocks.

We endured the heat.

We pushed through the wind.

Surely we should make it worthwhile?

But sometimes the adventure was the worthwhile bit.

The scrambling over rocks together.

The encouragement.

The complaints.

The laughter.

The unexpected violinist on the cliff.

The moment when you look at the people you love and realise you’re experiencing something together that you’ll probably talk about for years.

And perhaps there’s something else too.

We’re allowed to change our minds when we get there.

Sometimes we work incredibly hard towards a destination — a job, a role, a relationship, a home, a dream, a version of success — only to arrive and discover it isn’t quite what we imagined.

That doesn’t mean the journey was wasted.

And it doesn’t mean we have to stay simply because it took us a lot of effort to get there.

We can notice what is.

We can experience it.

We can appreciate what was beautiful.

And then we can decide what we want to do next.

Perhaps that’s one of the gifts of doing hard things with people we love.

We don’t just share the destination.

We share the getting there.

And sometimes, when the wind is blowing far harder than anyone expected, we can look at each other and say:

“Well… shall we go?”

And head back over the rocks together.

Why not take a moment to reflect

1. What hard thing are you navigating right now – and who are you choosing to navigate it with?
2. What unexpected beauty might you be missing because you’re so focused on reaching the destination?
3. Where might you be staying simply because you worked hard to get there – and what would it mean to give yourself permission to move on?

Secret note: Guess what we did the next day? We went to the Black Beach!

The wind was still there.

But something was different.

We were.

We knew what to expect this time. We knew how to position ourselves, what to bring, what not to bother with and how to manage the sand and the gusts.

And somehow, it all felt easier.

It made me think about how often that happens in life.

Things are often easier the second time we do them.

Not necessarily because the conditions have changed, but because we have.

We’ve learnt something.

We have evidence that we can cope.

We recognise the feeling.

We know what matters and what doesn’t.

The wind may still blow, but this time we know how to stand in it.

Perhaps that’s another gift of doing hard things with people we love. We don’t just come away with memories of what we experienced together. We come away knowing a little more about what we’re capable of.

And when the wind blows again — as it inevitably will — we’re not starting from the beginning.

We’ve been here before.

 

I’m Sarah Cretegny, an Accredited Transitions Coach. I help individuals, groups and teams navigate real-life transitions without losing themselves.

I’m particularly effective when time is limited and the stakes are high. I draw on evidence-based coaching approaches, strengths expertise and my lived experience of leadership, family life and international living.

I’m passionate about partnering with people to coach their wild — because the world needs more radically authentic leaders, now more than ever.

Based in Lausanne, Switzerland, I coach virtually around the world.

Find my links: https://linktr.ee/discover.your.wild