There was a phase in my life when I believed that trying harder was the answer to everything.
If something felt distant, I leaned in more.
If something felt cold, I brought warmth.
If something felt fragile, I carried it gently.
Effort felt noble. Effort felt powerful. Effort felt like control.
But effort only works where there is something alive on the other side.
I once kept investing in a connection that looked perfect from the outside. The photos were good. The conversations were polite. The structure held. There was no chaos, no drama, nothing obviously broken.
That should have been the warning.
Real things bend. Real things stretch. Real things react. What never changes is often what was never real.
Whenever I expressed something vulnerable, the response was measured but shallow. Whenever I gave deeply, I received neatly packaged politeness. It looked healthy. It felt empty.
So I tried harder.
I planned more. Communicated better. Became more patient. Adjusted my tone. Controlled my reactions. I told myself that consistency would eventually break through.
It did not.
Because effort cannot move what is already plastic.
You can water it. Warm it. Protect it. Show up for it. But imitation does not absorb care. It reflects it back without transformation.
The philosopher Søren Kierkegaard once wrote that purity of heart is to will one thing. I kept willing depth. The structure I was standing in was built for appearance, not depth. No amount of sincerity could change its material.
The painful truth is that sometimes the problem is not your effort. It is the absence of life on the other side.
Living things respond. They may struggle, but they respond. They grow awkwardly. They evolve. They reveal layers over time. They feel different after investment.
Imitations remain polished.
The hardest part of this realization was not letting go. It was accepting that my effort was real and the structure was not. It is easier to believe you did not try hard enough than to accept that there was nothing to grow.
We are taught that persistence fixes everything. That love conquers all. That effort transforms.
Effort transforms what has roots.
Without roots, all it does is exhaust you.
Once I stopped trying to force life into something artificial, I noticed something surprising. My energy returned. My presence felt lighter. I began recognizing who actually responded to care. Who leaned in when I leaned in. Who grew when I invested.
Effort is sacred. It should be given where there is movement.
Because effort does not create life.
It reveals whether life was there to begin with.
