Day 71
success
Here in the middle of life, I’m not sure how to think about success. The way success is defined by American culture has always been suspect for me as I was the child of parents who worked in religion, which in most contexts, doesn’t fit that definition. Success as a parent was whittled down to getting them into adulthood and to this day, trying to let them know on a regular basis that they are loved; which they are.
While I have always wanted to be a writer, I never really thought it was possible, so success in that area is still ephemeral. Success at work is generally just a paycheck—has been for most of my life.
When I think about success now, I mostly feel at odds with the idea. It is like thinking about my own physical beauty. Early in my life I thought it was important to be beautiful, I cared about being beautiful. Now, I just hope that my husband sees beauty when he sees me. When I was young, I thought of success as something public, something everyone needed to recognize for it to be real. In this part of my life, I can feel that shifting. Perhaps success is only ever going to be defined by me. That is somewhat hard to swallow; it sounds lonely…it feels true, but inadequate.
The middle of anything—a story, a song, a day, a life—is so confusing. You know with certainty that things are uncertain, that it can go a thousand different ways. You know that you have little control, that you can be effective, and still everything can go off track if there is the smallest stone. What you hope for is some kind of resolution, fulfillment. I am not sure what we actually get, in the end. What I do know is that I am almost daily redefining my expectations and what I think of as “success.”
Today I did small things; cooking, cleaning, a bit of computer work, a walk while holding my niece’s hand, while looking in the woods for some fairy house materials. We built the fairy house from twigs and leaves, even gave her a pool. This felt like success…at least to me.
