Success is Relative (Day #40)
“Success is relative. It is what we can make of the mess we have made of things.” – T.S. Eliot
When I quit my job two years ago to “be a writer” (whatever that meant), I assumed I’d be successful. I didn’t know what success would look like (Would I sell a script? Get a writing job?), but I figured it was right around the corner. Just a matter of time.
And here I am.
Sure, I’ve achieved little tidbits of success, taken several steps forward on this writerly path, but I haven’t achieved Success with a capital S. No one is paying me to write. I haven’t sold anything I’ve written. I haven’t, by any stretch of the imagination, “made it.”
I’m used to making it.
I graduated at the top of my high school class. I won awards. I achieved. I went to an Ivy League school. I excelled. I got good grades and the right internships. I did well on the LSAT. I got into my first choice law school. I had an article published in a law journal. My second year of law school, I got a job as a summer associate at a great law firm. I passed the California bar exam. I worked hard my first year as an attorney and was recognized and commended for it.
It is at this point that I become annoyed with my record of success. Seriously annoyed. Why? Because it’s a straight line. A line with a steep incline, for sure – that’s what achievement is, a progression onwards and upwards – but a line nonetheless. An arrow heading in one direction, to one place, to one definition of Success with a capital S.
When I quit my job, I thought that becoming a successful writer was simply the next dot on my trajectory of achievement. I didn’t assume it’d be automatic – I knew there were a lot of variables, a lot of what ifs – but I believed that my arrow would take me where I wanted to go.
It hasn’t.
Which is why my arrow annoys me. Because what good did it do me? After all that hard work and achievement, here I am, at home in my PJs on a Thursday morning, still trying to “make it” as a writer, wondering why the heck I saddled myself with so much law school debt if I wasn’t absolutely sure I wanted to be a lawyer. Or even moderately sure. Because the truth is, I wasn’t sure at all. I thought that going to law school would help me “break in” to the entertainment industry, not as an attorney but as a writer. Insert laugh track here.
So do I regret the choices I made along the way, the choices that brought me to the moment when I decided to jump off my speeding success train? No. I don’t regret them because if I hadn’t been there, I wouldn’t be here. Right here. Embracing this detour the best I know how.
Now, if you were to ask me whether I’d trade where I am right now for the writerly success I was so convinced I’d find – whether I’d hit “redo” on the last two years of my life if I knew I’d end up where I thought I was going back then – the answer wouldn’t come as quickly. I’d hesitate, imagining what my life would look like if things had gone as planned, and I’d want to say yes. Yes, please. Give me that.
But as I’ve mentioned before, this journey of mine has been faith-inspired and God-led from the start. Because of that, I have to believe that I am where I am – right here, in my PJs, with a dwindling bank account and a whole lot of guilt about the fact that Husband has an unemployed wife (which is definitely not what he signed up for) – for a reason. I have to believe that this journey has proceeded exactly as it was supposed to. Which means that I am not off track. I am on track. It’s just not the track I envisioned.
Am I thrilled to be here? Not so much. I’m stressed and anxious and, yes, embarrassed. I’ve been doing this writer thing for two years and haven’t sold a single thing. I feel like a loser. And writing those words makes me feel like an even bigger one.
You’ve heard me talk about my fears about motherhood. My fears about my career (or lack thereof) are a whole other ballgame.
A few days ago, my friend Kelli sent me a link to the inaugural post on her new blog “Success is Relative.” (Yes, I stole both the title of this post and the Eliot quote from Kelli. Apparently I am not only a wildly unsuccessful writer, but also an uncreative one.) Kelli describes Success is Relative as “a blog about women and how we define and redefine ourselves. How we find value in who we are and what we do. How we feel and often don’t feel successful.” Those words – and their inherent questions – have stuck with me.
There are moments when I feel successful. But there are entire days when I don’t. I struggle with how to define myself. I want to call myself a writer, but in doing that, I admit my lack of success. Calling myself an attorney is safe. Being an attorney would be even safer.
“Success is relative.” I like that idea. I would like it to inform the way I view and evaluate my life. I would like to enjoy each modicum of success I achieve. A meeting here. Some good feedback there. But I don’t. I brush those achievements off as Not Enough. And consequently, I end up feeling like I am Not Enough.
I have let the fact that I have not achieved success on my terms seep into my self-concept.
This bothers me. I don’t want to live my life fixated on Success with a capital S. That’s not the person I want to be. That’s not the message I want to teach my daughter. Success IS relative. It’s a daily pursuit and a daily reward. I believe that we achieve success when we, even in tiny and seemingly inconsequential ways, live up to our potential. When we, in fits and flashes and fleeting moments, become the person we were created to be.
It’s that easy, huh? 🙂
(Do you believe that success is relative? How do you define Success with a capital S? What has been your most successful moment? When have you felt the least successful? How do you think I’m doing? Am I embracing this detour? Or is this project just my attempt to manage it?)
(Today is Kelli’s fourth day as a blogger. Please go welcome her to the blogosphere! You’ll love her honesty and wit. And her recipes!! You can find her at http://www.successisrelative.com)
Lindsey
Friday, 12 March, 2010 at 18:16Oh, lady, did you crawl into my head and figure out the single thing I obsess about most? This is it. I’ve followed that damn arrow for so long … and yet I am definitely, but gradually, realizing that it is not pointing me in the direction of any authentic happiness. From where I sit, you are brave and bold and wise and the epitome of what I want to do. So, I say BRAVO. It will come. It will. I believe it.
Nilsa @ SoMi Speaks
Friday, 12 March, 2010 at 11:07Here’s the thing about success, it doesn’t come overnight. Go back to the first day of your sophomore year of high school. If you asked yourself then if you were successful, your answer would be no. You barely had any high school under your belt. If you dropped out, you’d have trouble finding a job. And you were still living at home with mom and dad. The point is, you had to stick with it for four years before you could consider yourself a success. Before you could say you graduated high school. Before you could brag about your GPA. Before you could gloat about going to college.
I look at your writing adventure the same way. It’s a journey. One where you have to put in blood, sweat and probably some tears before you can look back and brag, gloat and call yourself a success. Don’t get too down on yourself – there’s still plenty of time to consider yourself successful and plenty of time after that to rake in the dough so your babe can go to college and maybe even so your hubby can retire early. =)
Kate Ladd Pearson
Friday, 12 March, 2010 at 10:28Oh Lauren — I can so relate!!!
By not being afraid to take risks in order to follow your passions, you have already succeeded in far greater ways than most people ever will …
I have enjoyed reading your blog so much I’ve started one of my own (“Think Like a Blonde Lawyer” at http://www.blondejd.com). It is in its baby stages and nowhere near as professionally done as yours, but I’m finding it good therapy.
I truly believe the money will follow in your case, but even if it doesn’t from this particular project you can always go back to being an attorney without calling it a failure. The only “failure” comes from never trying …
kim arnold
Friday, 12 March, 2010 at 5:51Lauren,
I think this is my favorite post yet. Beautiful, honest, and real.
I was once asked to join a panel of ‘professionals’ speaking on the topic of “Success.” There was a doctor, a lawyer, a stock broker, and… ME, “the stay-at-home housewife.” (May I borrow that laugh track.)
We spoke before a group of around 500 college students. I was absolutely terrified.
But the experience was transformational for all of us. I began learning then that “Success” is not only relative, but actually the opposite of what most of us think it is.
I continue to learn that more each day.
Sometimes our failures are our greatest victories.
You are awesome!
Love, Kim
Kelli
Thursday, 11 March, 2010 at 13:11Thanks for the blog shout out Lauren!!
I feel there is this list of what it means to be successful and if we don’t check off each item on that list then we disregard every accomplishment we’ve made and consider ourselves “unsuccessful”. I think society teaches us that. I was watching the Olympics and Apolo Ohno had won a bronze medal in one of his events.
You know what the first thing out of my mouth was? “OH NO” (no pun intended)! 3rd best on planet earth and I uttered sadness. Was he only successful if he’d won the gold? Of course not. To even make it to the Olympics is an outstanding achievement, but my gut, in that moment, told me that #3 was not good enough.
I think in order to be successful we have to define success on our own terms and never let anyone judge us from their “success to do list”. If we wake up each morning and try to do a little better today than we did yesterday then Success is eminent.
Rebecca @ Diary of a Virgin Novelist
Thursday, 11 March, 2010 at 12:59Oh my. So you need to come to NYC or I need to go to LA because we need to hang out. We are twins. I was just lamenting the other day how guilty I feel for not bringing any income in AND how I am the one with debt for a degree I don’t really use. On the good days, it is fine. But damn those bad days.
Trece
Thursday, 11 March, 2010 at 12:43I do agree that success is relative. I do not see myself as successful at or in anything. But I do not have the right eyes, don’t use the correct perspective or perceive my existence as my Lord does. To Jesus, I’m to die for.
PS Went to see Kelli’s blog and subbed. Thankx
Christine LaRocque
Thursday, 11 March, 2010 at 12:16Really interesting post. Something I know I struggle with most days. I think though that a big part of the battle is defining what success would actually be. I think there is some measure of success in just knowing where you want to be. If you know that, than you can plan, measure and focus. Sounds like you know your goals and I think that’s a great step forward.
Mom2Ky
Thursday, 11 March, 2010 at 10:52I have read your blog now for several weeks. I believe I got the link from Katherine Wolfe’s site. It’s been fun hearing about your mothering stories and about your precious baby. I have a daughter of my own, and it makes me reminisce about my time with her at that age. Time truly does fly by. I just read Kelli’s blog, too! All three of you women are amazing and inspiring to me! And like I said on Kelli’s blog, success is relative. Success is a frame of mind. Whenever I start feeling sorry for myself and “my life” I can always find someone or know someone who is going through worse things than I am. Your life may not have turned out the way you planned, but taking risks, sharing your life with someone else, making a difference in the lives of others, and learning to love your life, no matter what the circumstance, that is success to me. I am a single mom raising my 7 year old daughter without her father or his child support. Being a mom and a dad is hard work. I feel like a failure at times because I want so much more for my daughter than I can give her. But, I try to focus on the positive things, and just keep my my open to a positive and glorious future. Thanks for taking the time to share your life experiences with all of us. Hugs, Sharon