“I don’t have the energy for this right now,” is a phrase I’ve been told often, usually while I’m mid-rant about some unimportant topic I’m taking way too seriously. Judging by how frequently I’ve heard that phrase, it’s either a polite way of saying that my personality is exhausting (!) or it’s a caution that I’m worrying about too many things all at once. Maybe I’m rapturously talking about a grand scheme to save the world; or going on and on about a personal problem I have with a stubborn friend; or complaining about some aspect of my job that I’m powerless to change.
In this context, when the response I receive is, “Look, I don’t have the energy for this right now,” it’s like drawing a verbal line in the sand. It’s a way of saying that we cannot change such-and-such issue so we should stop throwing away our energy on it. Stop worrying about it and focus on what matters.
With the exception of my six-year-old daughter during a long car ride, each of us only has a limited amount of energy (seriously, she never stops moving or talking). Every day, we make choices about how we spend that energy. Do we fritter it away anxiously, worrying about that over which we have no influence? Does it dissipate as we relentlessly micromanage every tiny aspect of our lives and the lives of those around us? Or do we apply that energy in positive, helpful ways in areas where we can make a difference?
Learning my limits
I learned a long time ago that I cannot save the world. Not only do I not have the talent, intellect, or superhuman power to do so, but I also lack the breadth of vision. I wouldn’t know how to go about saving the world even if I could because I have a limited perspective, I only process information from my own, personal point of view.
If I were king of everything, I would probably save a butterfly only to accidentally create a hurricane on the other side of the world. I’ve had too many experiences in which I’ve confidently told other people what they need to do, only to find out later they followed the exact opposite of my advice and ended up prospering.
My advice has never been worth all that much, it seems.
What I’ve come to understand is that, when I try to control other people or tell them what to do, I step out of my area of expertise. I have no ability to change another person’s mind if they don’t want it changed, not can I motivate them to act how I want them to act. I want to advise them but can’t, and even if I could it really wouldn’t go all that well.
I’m simply not equipped with endless energy and power to micromanage my own decisions, let alone those of everyone else. Inevitably, there are obstacles I’m not equipped to handle. When that happens, I have two choices: (1) keep throwing energy at it and, as a result, become incredibly anxious and frustrated, or (2) learn to be okay with limiting my sphere of influence and focus my energy into more productive areas.
Circles of influence and control
One simple way to picture the two options are by using Steven Covey’s description of the “circle of influence vs. the circle of control.” He discusses this concept in his book The 7 Habits of Highly Effective People, and I’ve found it extremely helpful. It’s simple, really, nothing more than drawing two circles. The first is your circle of influence, meaning the things you actually can change and are qualified to change. Second comes the circle of concern, meaning the things you want to change. The goal is to make the circles overlap as much as possible.
Partially, this is accomplished by taking initiative in response to what concerns us. In other words, stop complaining about what’s wrong with the world and become part of the solution by adding positive value. Use influence to make the world a better place. To use a simple example, if I’m worried about how bad my landscaping looks, instead of complaining about it all the time I might study up on plants and flowers, ask friends for advice, and schedule time to work in the yard. Then I won’t be worried anymore. I’ll be actively making my yard better.
But we can also make the circles match by making the circle of concern smaller. This involves letting go of the desire to influence that which we cannot. I might be frustrated, for instance, by the way my corporation operates at my place of employment. There’s nothing I can do about it, though, I’m not the boss so I need to let it go. I can stop worrying about that over which I have zero control. I can’t change it, and probably don’t even have the knowledge or expertise to change it, so it isn’t worth fretting about.
Finding what matters
If we can learn to stop throwing our energy away on things that don’t matter, we’ll be left with more energy for what does matter. Why worry about how my boss runs the office when I can do my own job well and with pride? What's the point in worrying about politics when I can contribute to making my own neighborhood a better place? Why get all upset about the Vatican when I can contribute to my parish? Finding our place of greatest influence is how we lead productive, happy, worry-free lives.
The bonus, at least for the people who have to listen to me rant on a daily basis, is that they get to thrive in their role without my interference. And I get to stop hearing that phrase, “I don’t have energy for this right now.”
