The Grit We’re Losing

I was listening to a Meaningful Minute podcast this week about the cost of living in the Orthodox world, and it really got me thinking. Maybe because I have a married daughter now. Maybe because, like everyone else, I’m feeling the weight of what it costs to live this kind of life, not just financially but emotionally.

And like so many parents, we help them. My parents helped me. That’s what we do. It’s almost built into our DNA, one generation lifting the next. But lately, I’ve been wondering if we have crossed a line between helping and handicapping.

We don’t talk about this enough, but I think a lot of it comes from fear. Divorce is happening now more than it ever used to and I think this topic is not being spoken about enough. As parents, we want to do everything in our power to prevent it. We think if we take away the financial pressure, if we help pay the rent, cover the tuition, or pitch in for groceries, maybe they won’t fight as much. Maybe they’ll be happy. Maybe they’ll make it.

But I keep asking myself: What did our own first big fights teach us?

When we were newly married and money was tight, when we had to choose which bill to pay, when we sat up late trying to figure out life, wasn’t that where we learned partnership? Wasn’t that when we learned how to survive together?

Now we take that away. We call it love, but maybe it’s fear.

I’ve been thinking a lot about grit, where it comes from and who has it. I follow a lot of successful entrepreneurs, and their stories always start the same way: with struggle. Sara Blakely, the founder of Spanx, sold fax machines door to door before she built a billion-dollar company. Howard Schultz grew up in public housing before building Starbucks. Oprah was rejected, humiliated, and broke. Every one of them faced real uncertainty. They didn’t know how they’d pay the rent or where the next dollar would come from, and that struggle became the springboard for their success.

But that’s not my story.

I didn’t grow up poor. I didn’t struggle like that. By the time I came around, my parents were doing well financially. But I saw how they got there.

My father was at NYU Law School and worked as a substitute teacher to make ends meet. He would wait outside the dean’s office for hours, determined to convince him to accept his application. He would miss classes to teach because they needed the money. My parents went to dollar movies because that was all they could afford. And when he finally became a lawyer, he worked tirelessly, commuting every day from Monsey into the city, leaving early in the morning and coming home late at night.

They worked really hard. And I saw it.

I watched my parents build their life through effort and showing up. No one handed them anything. And even though I grew up with comfort, I grew up understanding the price of it. I knew how much went into creating stability.

So, maybe my grit came from that, from watching it modeled. From seeing that comfort is not the default, it’s something you earn.

But it also makes me wonder, did my father work that hard because he had to, or because something inside him wouldn’t let him do anything less? Did his grit come from necessity, or was it wired into who he was?

And if it was wired in him, do we all have that somewhere inside us?

Because I see how different things are now. We give our kids everything. We cushion every fall. We rush to fix, to soothe, to prevent discomfort. We don’t want them to feel the fear of not knowing how they’ll manage. But maybe that fear is where their grit is waiting to be found.

Maybe we’re raising kids who are so used to being helped that they don’t realize how capable they are.

I think about my own life, how many times things fell apart, and how I always found a way through. I don’t give up. If something doesn’t work, I try something else. I start over. I don’t know if that’s learned or inborn. Maybe it’s both.

But I do know that the moments that built me weren’t the easy ones. They were the moments when I didn’t have a plan, when I was scared, when I had no choice but to figure things out.

And I wonder, are we letting our kids have those moments? Or are we taking them away out of love, out of fear, out of habit?

Maybe grit is part wiring, part opportunity. Maybe it’s in everyone, but it only wakes up when life demands it. And if we keep stepping in to save our kids, maybe we are robbing them of the opportunity to develop it.

We want our kids to be happy. But maybe happiness doesn’t come from being helped. Maybe it comes from knowing you can handle hard things.

So, I don’t know what the answer is. I just know that I want my children to have more than comfort in life. I want them to have confidence. And that only comes from the moments we can’t give them, the ones they have to earn. n

Tamara Gestetner is a certified mediator, psychotherapist, and life and career coach based in Cedarhurst.  She helps individuals and couples navigate relationships, career transitions, and life’s uncertainties with clarity and confidence. Through mediation and coaching, she guides clients in resolving conflicts, making tough decisions, and creating meaningful change. Tamara is now taking questions and would love to hear what’s on your mind—whether it’s about life, career, relationships, or anything in between. She can be reached at 646-239-5686 or via email at [email protected]. Please visit TamaraGestetner.com to learn more.