My work isn't what you'd refer to as difficult. In fact, a lot of my "work" looks distinctly like something else. I am often encouraged to do other work while I work and sort of double up on my work. Sometimes this is feasible, sometimes it simply isn't. I can't expect anyone to really understand why I must work the way I do, because I can't really compare myself to other people on an equal footing.
You work harder than me. This is the presumption which I, myself, support. Esther certainly works harder than me, but that would be true no matter what my job was. Mothers work insanely hard. I suppose if I were actually making a livable sum of money from my work, then I would feel more on an equal footing with others. But, for as long as I am not making much or any money from what I do, it is inevitable that my work will command absolutely no respect. Some choose not to even call it work. I still call it work.
No, my work isn't "hard." It is, however, overwhelming. It's overwhelming on a scale I cannot even begin to describe. I fear I spend much of my time simply coping with the overwhelming nature of what I am doing. My work fills me with dread and despair. I await the day when God takes the job away from me, which I am often (while staring at an empty bank account) convinced He will soon do. It is a horrid responsibility that I cannot simply turn away from. It's overwhelming.