SUCCESS

Driving recently, I found myself in one of those deep meditative states that you can slip into when traveling a familiar road.  You know the kind:  You're driving the same route to work or school or  whatever, when suddenly you find yourself two blocks from your end goal and have only a vague recollection of actually driving there. Anyway, while doing my unintentional driving meditation the other week, I slipped into my subconscious and met an AH-HA moment head on:

I feel so f***ing unsuccessful right now.

The realization, oddly enough, felt awesome.  Like I'd just sent the last email of the day, or nailed the final question on Jeopardy (is that show still on? embarrassing).  But you get my drift.   I figured out something that felt really big:  There was too much going on for me to feel successful at any one thing.  How delightfully simple.  Now, what can I scale back on to start really kicking ass at something again?

Cue the sad face.

It won't be maternity, as my little one definitely needs me now as much as ever.  Marriage is also staying put.  Then there's the issue of my job-  last time I checked, salary and insurance were still pretty much essential.   Exercise?  Already let that one go.   Writing?  But then who would I vent to as friend dates are already at a bare minimum?

So how do you feel successful as a working mother in your mid-thirties?  Actually, how do you feel successful at all at this age?  My friends who are married with kids or on the verge often seem to feel swallowed by the complex web of relationships they juggle, many of which revolve around a deep need for said friend's time and attention.  My single friends who are still living the life and pursuing jobs they love often feel judged by outside sources because of their relationship status or choices around child bearing.  So what's a girl supposed to do?

I think I discovered the answer on a recent trip back to my childhood home.  It's simple, really:

before I told my trophies good-bye

Trophies.  Lots of trophies.  I stopped by to see my parents en route to Atlanta a few weeks ago, and my mom asked me to help clean out an old bookshelf in our house.  Part of the overcrowding was caused by trophies that my sister and I accumulated during our youth.  Trophies for everything from participating in a sports team to memorizing Bible verses (I grew up in Alabama).  There was even a trophy for finishing a round of mini-golf.  Seriously?  I'm all for boosting a kid's ego, but there is a line.

The excessive accolades reminded me how little gratification and affirmation we receive as adults. And mark my word, I am actively looking for a solution.  I've practiced bragging to my husband about something awesome I did during the day, but often that has a strange way of backfiring.  Blatantly fishing for compliments is not really my style, though I suppose I could give it a whirl.  I got a pretty kick-ass,oversized birthday card from the peeps I work with at the AYAVA House, and that was definitely close to the same thing.

In the end, the closest thing to a trophy I've received as of late was probably an amazing dinner with one of my closest friends here in Austin.  Over pizza and a bottle of wine, I complained to her about all the things that were overwhelming me, and she empathized but told me I was doing a great job regardless.  Then she narrowed her eyes, as if entertained, and told me that from the outside, all the change I was bemoaning actually sounded like good things to her.  I paused, unsure of whether to tell her she was flat-wrong then, or wait and ease her into the flat-wrongedness after briefly entertaining her opinion.  It didn't take long, however, before I realized my shoulders already felt lighter.  She had a point, after all, and it helped me to realize what all this trophy bizness was about in the first place:  Perspective.

Success is a relative thing.  Sometimes finishing is reason enough to celebrate.  Persistence, even in the face of what seems like complete failure, is an absolute necessity.  But perspective, having someone to take you out of the moment and reflect back to you all the things they see and hear, is essential.  I sort of wonder if that was the point of all that fake gold in the first place, that one moment when someone's overworked father called your name at the end of the tee-ball season and reflected back to you all you did and how you grew over the season.  We can't all have coaches to do this, and trophies are mostly a thing of the past, but I've decided to turn more intentionally to those around me in times like these.  And to those for whom perspective and persistence just aren't enough, there are always these beauties available for just under $6, anytime your battered heart desires.  

                           

                                        "Reach for the Stars"

"Classic Achievement"