I’ve been thinking about the concept of success lately. By lately, I mean for the last six or seven years.
What does “success” even mean? Everyone is chasing it in some form or another, whether that’s money, fame, a job title, a Publishers Marketplace deal report announcing that your manuscript was sold by X to Y over at Z.
I think your definition of success depends on many factors. Where you came from. What stories make up your life. Your surroundings. Your circumstances. If you grew up with hand-me-downs and your family couldn’t afford toothpaste, perhaps your definition of success will be different than someone who grew up not knowing what it is to be hungry. If your parents immigrated from another country and worked three jobs so you could have opportunities they never had, their definition of success, and in turn yours, might be different too. Maybe you’ve been chasing whatever society told you to chase. Maybe you’ve had the privilege and the freedom to consider a path nobody told you to take.
Is the rat race the success race? You live your life according to a set of boxes you need to check. You check one, then onto the next. There’s always more. More. More. We always want more. More. More. You reach a milestone, you buy that thing you thought would make your life better, and it’s not enough. It’s never enough. You are the poster person of success. What else if left to achieve? What void is left to fill? What is the meaning of anything anymore?
There are times in your life that bring you to your knees and make you question your definition of success. Perhaps you were living a certain way for a while, going down a certain path. Your very own rat race. Then everything is turned upside down and no matter how hard you try, you can’t fit into the boxes you made for yourself anymore. What do you do? What do you do.
You must define what success means to you. You must turn inwards and figure out your core needs, your true wants.
In a world where you’re constantly exposed to the successes of others, sometimes it’s hard to stay grounded. Like. Like. Repost. Share. Thumbs up. In a world where visibility and fame are the new currency, it’s difficult to not compare yourself, your life, your very own definition of success with everyone else’s version of glory.
Sometimes success is getting up in the morning.
Sometimes success is a perfect soufflé.
Sometimes success is a a moment of laughter with a loved one.
Sometimes success is comfort.
Sometimes success is safety.
Sometimes success if getting to know yourself better.
Sometimes success is courage.
Sometimes success is failure.
It doesn’t have to be fireworks.
It can be quiet.
It can be small.
It is whatever you want it to be.
I like this obsession of success!
As far as my concern! my obsession of success is only being healthy! More and more of a Good health! Thanks Michelle and good luck!
Dear Michelle: I love your definitions of success at the end of your essay. I think that the word that sums up your definitions is 'simplicity'. It reminds me of the song "My Favorite Things" in the musical "The Sound of Music". J'aime ça !
In my little world, I would say that dreams, hopes and wishes have been more prevalent that the concept or the aspiration to success. In fact, during job interviews, I was always at a loss when asked what were my short and long-term goals. The fact that I was applying for a current position was pretty much self-explanatory in my book!
One could argue that the hope of having a family, for instance, could be my definition of success. However, I have come to the conclusion (a very long time ago) that the pressure of being married/of having a family that I felt, living in a small French-Canadian town in Northern Ontario for decades, stemmed from the townspeople themselves and THEIR idea of success and not from either myself or my family. (Thank goodness!) In other words, I would marry for love and the HOPE of having children and not for status or some superficial notion of having a successful life! (OK, I sound like I belong to another century!)
...Sometimes success is being an "extended" mom to schoolchildren, to neighbours, to borrowed nephews.