What is success? As children, we are told that being successful is the ultimate goal. But are we ever told what success is?
I suppose it is ingrained in our heads that going to school, excelling at as many things as possible, involving yourself in numerous clubs and extracurricular activities, winning a bunch of trophies, achieving an above average GPA and getting into an excellent college is considered success in high school.
And I suppose success in college is measured by how rigorous your courses are, what your major is, how many clubs you are involved in, how well liked you are and whether or not you got an internship.
And then I suppose it's getting a job that pays well and has room for advancements.
Once we have achieved what we have been working for our whole lives what, then, can we measure our successes by?
And then what?
How are we to measure our successes when we no longer have a grade point average to compare them to? When we no longer are a part of a sports team? When we no longer can compare how many clubs we are involved in with our peers? How can we tangibly measure our accomplishments and what define our accomplishments in the first place?
If someone asked me, “To what do you owe your successes?”
I would say, "I do not know what my successes are."
Sure, I have my GPA and I got into my favorite college, am involved in a few clubs and have an internship lined up.
But are those my successes? Are those what I have to show for myself and my life? Is that what we are taught to measure our successes by? Is that what determines my self-worth?
Is that what I amount to?
Does that mean that those who do not have an outstanding GPA are not successful?
I do not think so.
What if our definition of success cannot be measured by our GPA, what college we got into or what job we have?
So maybe we aren't all going to accomplish great things.
Or maybe we will all accomplish our own definition of something great.
Maybe your success will be measured by finding your soulmate, falling in love, marrying your best friend and having a family.
But maybe it won't.
To you, maybe success is helping people and making their lives better. Maybe you're meant to be a teacher or a therapist.
Or maybe your success will be reaching the highest possible point in your career
Maybe it’s making ourselves vulnerable, allowing ourselves to fail, embracing the unknown.
Or maybe it’s having a great big house and a couple of nice cars.
What drives each of us is completely and uniquely our own. Each level of ambition and determination is individualistic.
What one of us considers settling might be happiness for another.
So what is the definition of that daunting, ambiguous word of success? I think we all need to create our own definition, one that is uniquely and solely our own. One that encompasses all that we want out of life. Because one person's definition of success might be drastically different than another's. And that's OK.
We cannot all be a CEO, a president of a company, a brain surgeon, an award-winning novelist or an astronaut. But that doesn't mean we haven't been successful or lived a remarkable life worthy of celebrating. Because we have not achieved these things does not mean our own versions of success and greatness should be undermined.
Maybe you’ll feel successful when you’re making six figures and living in a big house.
But maybe you’ll feel successful when you’re sitting at home with your family watching a movie.
Or maybe it will be when you’re received your Ph.D. or publish a novel.
Maybe it will be when you climb that mountain you never thought you could climb or when you face that fear that has been intimidating you your whole life.
Or maybe you’re still trying to figure it out. I know I am.
Perhaps we should not define success by our materialistic achievements, but rather by what drives us, what makes us smile, what makes us want to be better and try harder, what feeds our souls and our level of happiness. Maybe success shouldn’t be looked at as a competition, but as a goal that we are all striving towards and worthy of reaching.
