Weekly Blog: What is Success?
This last week I caught a snippet of a speech by Zohran Mamdani where he talks about how, in many neighbourhoods, part of "making it" is moving away, and that we need to see a shift toward being able to "make it" while staying in that same neighbourhood.
This struck a chord with me because, where I grew up, you had not "made it" until you moved away. Living in a “better” place was a prerequisite for anyone to be considered successful. I grew up with the mindset that to succeed, you had to be willing to move; and move I did and still will. There are social and political implications of Mamdani’s sentiment that I am not going to get into; my thoughts didn’t lead me there and that is not something I am inclined to do right now.
Instead, I was led to think about what success means to me, comparing what success is today with what it has been. The biggest shift came with the realization that I hadn’t built my own vision of success. One thing that happened with disability and chronic illness was that I could no longer chase my old goals and dreams. I have had to re-evaluate and change what I consider possible. I am not alone in having to adjust my sights to incorporate the realities of my situation; everyone is doing that. With disability has come loss, and I still get hit by that from time to time.
That adjusting of my goals and dreams led me to see that the majority of the dreams I had chased were not my own. I was chasing success without ever stopping to fully consider what it meant. I had accepted the "more money, more stuff, wife, kids, and picket fence" definitions of success that were handed down to me. Success was to be nominated the best, to have the accolade of peers, or recognition from others. It was a whole bunch of things that, when forced to stop and think about it, I had never questioned. In fact, success was a bunch of things I had achieved and yet derived very little happiness from. Particularly disappointing were the material markers of success, the nice car, the big house. They felt more like liabilities than assets to be celebrated. My personal life was never as great as it could be made to look on LinkedIn.
For all the external markers of success that I achieved, one thing was lacking: I hadn’t celebrated my happiness. In fact, it was much the reverse for so long in my life. Being happy was rewarded with things to make me unhappy by those who should have been celebrating with me. External markers of success felt hollow and precarious without being wholly owned. I was right; those externalities came and went. I was chasing a ghost.
By the time I posted my first poem on Instagram in January 2022, I was a world away from the goal-driven dream-chasing of my former life. I was getting from one day to the next. Posting poetry wasn’t even a goal; it was something to do to pass the conscious hours, of which there were still too many. I was not in the best place. I wasn’t actively interested in being dead, but I wasn’t actively interested in being alive either. If I was going to live a life, then "self-destructive artist" was as good as any.
Starting over, I didn’t have a vision of success beyond wanting to see my collection published, sitting on the table near the door of a bookshop (which I mentioned last week). In contrast to every bit of goal-setting advice you will ever read, I had no steps, no milestones, no plan, absolutely nothing. I picked Instagram because it had poetry on it, was familiar, and I didn’t have to show my face. I investigated poetry forums and they scared me. I was intimidated for a whole bunch of reasons, so I settled on being an "Insta-poet."
Now I pause to think about what “success” is fairly regularly. I don’t think I need a grander goal than my collection on the bookshop table; instead, I feel my goals are smaller, personal, and ultimately achievable. One thing that my goals share, in contrast to my published collection and the externally validated goals of my past, is that they are journeys, not destinations. It’s not about a big house or fancy car; it’s about building a life where I feel financially secure and can easily afford the private healthcare not available on the NHS. I am focused not on things, but on relationships—being able to take part in the flourishing of others and to support that.
I like nice things; I have a passion for cars and a love of watches (both could sink a millionaire as hobbies). But they are not the point of anything I am doing. It’s not a case of "I’ll be happy when I get a certain thing." I am going to be happy, and I am going to be happy doing the things I love. That happiness and contentment are the only things that matter to me.
Happiness, security, meaningful relationships, reasons to get out of bed in the morning, they are success for me. Until next week, build your own vision of success. Don’t settle for hand-me-down goals and dreams; keep on keeping on.
Poem: Mind the Gap
Mind the gap
That's what it said on the platform floor
I stood reflecting for a while until the train was due
On the distance in my head with nothing feeling real
Reality rushing past myself and I
Unknown to each other perceptibly present
Substantially absent, grainy in my consciousness
Destination focus abstracts only for a moment
As the moment steps aback, noise returns to sound
Familiar without comfort to a brand-new space
I am in the gap.
