What If It’s Not Supposed to Be Easy?

By: Tamara Gestetner

I was having a conversation the other day with a person who said something that sounded so simple. He said, “If I just had more money, all my personal problems would be solved.” He said it with such certainty, like the answer to everything in life was a figure in a bank account.

I didn’t rush to respond, because a part of me understood exactly what he meant. When life feels tight, when there’s pressure coming from different angles, when you’re carrying responsibilities that don’t seem to let up, money can feel like a relief. It can feel like salvation. Like if you just had more of it, you could breathe a little easier, make better decisions, feel less stuck. There’s something very real about that feeling, and I didn’t want to dismiss it.

But at the same time, there was another part of me that felt resistance to what he was saying. Not because money doesn’t help—it does—but because I’ve seen enough, both in my own life and in the lives of others to know that money is never the complete answer. I’ve known people who have what most people would consider extreme wealth, yet their lives are far from simple. Their struggles don’t disappear; they just look different. The pressure shifts. The expectations grow. The emptiness, in some cases, becomes even louder because there are fewer external reasons to explain it away.

It made me think about how easily we fall into this belief that if one major thing in our life changed, everything else would fall into place. We attach so much weight to one variable. If I had more money. If my life felt easier. If things just worked out the way I wanted them to, then I would finally feel okay. Around that same time, I was talking to my sister, and in the middle of the conversation she said to me, “Don’t you ever just want to run away from life and live an easy life?” She said it lightly, but there was truth in it.

And if I’m being honest, there are moments when that thought absolutely crosses my mind. There are moments when I feel tired of constantly needing to show up, tired of figuring things out, tired of always pushing myself to grow. There are moments when I look at other people and it genuinely seems like things come easier to them, like their paths are smoother, like they’re not carrying the same weight. And in those moments, the idea of an easy life feels really appealing.

But then I remember one time—very clearly—when something inside of me shifted. I was speaking at an event, and my sister was introducing me. She said, “This is someone who never gives up. If something doesn’t work, she just tries again.” And everyone kind of nodded, like that was something admirable, something strong. And I remember standing there thinking, wow, that’s nice. That sounds really good. But at the same time, I had another thought that I didn’t say out loud. I’m also tired. I’m tired of always being the one who keeps trying. Of always being the one who has to pivot, adjust, figure out the next thing. There’s a part of me that doesn’t always want to be resilient. That doesn’t always want to grow. That just wants things to work without so much effort.

And I think that’s the part we don’t talk about enough. We celebrate the person who keeps going, who keeps pushing, who doesn’t give up. But we don’t talk about what it actually feels like to be that person. The weight of it. The constant movement. The lack of stillness. Because when I look back at my life honestly, the moments that shaped me the most were never the easy ones. They were the moments that forced something out of me. The moments I didn’t choose but had to move through anyway. The times I had to rethink everything, start again, trust myself again, even when I wasn’t sure.

Those moments are uncomfortable. They’re messy. They’re not the ones you would pick if you had a choice. And yet, they’re the ones that build something inside of you that nothing else can. At the same time, we’re constantly looking around and comparing. We see people whose lives appear more straightforward, more stable, more predictable, and there’s a part of us that feels it. That quiet jealousy we don’t always admit out loud. The thought that maybe their life is better. That maybe they’re luckier. That maybe they don’t have to work as hard internally just to feel okay.

But I’ve started to question that. Because what we see is never the full picture. Even when someone’s life is easier in certain ways, it doesn’t mean it’s more fulfilling. It doesn’t mean they feel more settled. It doesn’t mean they’ve done the internal work that actually creates a sense of peace.

The person who said that more money would solve everything may very well go on to make more money. And it may improve parts of his life. It may remove certain pressures, create more options, make things feel more manageable. But it won’t replace the internal work. It won’t automatically fix relationships. It won’t give you a sense of purpose. It won’t quiet the parts of you that feel unsettled. Those things still require something from you.

I still have moments when I wish things were easier. I don’t think that ever goes away. But I’m starting to understand that easier doesn’t always mean better. Sometimes it just means you’re not being asked to grow. And maybe the life that feels harder, the one that stretches you, the one that forces you to keep showing up even when you’re tired, isn’t the life you would have chosen. But it might be the one that shapes you the most. 

Tamara Gestetner, LMFT, is a psychotherapist and certified mediator based in Cedarhurst who helps individuals and couples navigate relationships, career questions, and the challenges people face in everyday life. She is also the host of the podcast Talk2Tamara. Readers are welcome to submit questions or topics they would like addressed in future columns. Tamara can be reached at TamaraGestetner.com, [email protected], or 646-239-5686.