teach. pray. - The Anxiety of Success

The word success and I have always had a complicated relationship. For as far back as I can remember, my family drilled in my head that success equated money. Success most likely equated money because my family was poor, although, my family crossed the line to middle-class when my mom went from a textile factory worker to a graphic designer for that textile factory. Lucky for us, my mom had some mad art skills. But, even then, we were bottom end middle-class, one paycheck away from poor, because, from the time I was seven, until pretty much all of my young life, my mom was a single parent, or she was the primary financial provider. Therefore, conversations about money, budgeting, and the cost of living were always being had. To this day, I cringe hearing any phrase relatively close to, "Oh, that cost some money." On a more positive note, I'm a queen at budgeting and at maintaining minimal debt.  

Success, in turn, has always meant credentials, job security, and money, or at least, that's what I convinced my mind to believe which created a fairly driven woman. In contrast, my heart has always felt a different definition of success. A definition that is so different that fear kidnapped it, gagged it, and hid it away. And, here I am, almost 36-years-old, still fearful, yet gently inching my way toward liberation.

As a middle school and high school girl, my dream job was to be a writer for Rolling Stone Magazine. Music plus writing about music, oh the dream. But, somehow, my first of four, or five, majors in undergrad was pre-med. Why? Because doctors made a lot of money. Because being a doctor would make my family most proud. During my first semester of college, my English 101 professor called me to his office and asked if I'd ever considered being a writer. I lied. I said no. In my second semester of college, I decided I wanted to do sports medicine. I could still make a lot of money, but I wouldn't necessarily be stuck in a doctor's office all day. I could work on the field, directly with the athletes, so I thought. Yet, again, the same English professor tried to convince me to be an English major. This time my response was, "What kind of job can I get with an English degree that will make a lot of money?" His answer must have not been impressive because I don't remember what he said. By the end of my third semester in college, I had changed my major to English. By the end of that same semester, I was a Communications major with an emphasis in print journalism. That's where I stayed, so I could graduate on time. My mom and step-dad were not thrilled with my choice. Though my mom would never admit it, I know she was disappointed when I left the idea of being a doctor behind for writing. I still remember the look in her eyes the day I told her.

Here I am 15 years later, and I'm not a doctor or a writer. I'm a teacher. My mom's response when I told her I was going to graduate school to be a special education teacher, "Why? You'll never make any money doing that, but I guess you'll survive. Every teacher I know is doing ok, I guess." I feel like she was more hesitant about me being a teacher than she was about me being a writer. I suppose she figured, either way, I'd be a starving writer or a starving teacher, and both would leave me the opposite of rich (in the monetary sense of the word). 

This is one of the biggest differences between me and my mom. Success has never really equated money for me, but I convinced myself of this story because I wanted more than anything for my family to be proud, and in my head, making a lot of money or having all the fancy degrees would make them proud. Now looking back, maybe my mom's definition of success was never about making loads of money. Maybe money simply meant survival and survival simply meant success.

Regardless, success has been a thought in the forefront of my mind for quite some time now. What does success mean to me? How has my vision of success changed over the years? The ugly truth is success does tie to survival. I have to be able to successfully pay my bills and the things I want to experience in life. I mean traveling the world cost money. So, success does relate to monetary gain, but it also means I want to have pride in the way I make my money. Success means helping as many people as possible in the most authentic and honest way that I know how to. Success means I am fulfilling God's purpose. Success means I am spreading universal love while loving myself at the same time. 

I suppose success also means facing my fears, stepping out of the box I've created for myself, and slowing down enough to really listen to my heart and allowing it to guide me to my new destination. Success means soaking in where I've been and frolicking in the present. Success means strengthening relationships and appreciating those closest to me. Success means exploring and learning. Success means finding gratitude in the mundaneness of everyday life. 

I am learning that success looks many different ways based on the season of life I'm in. It is ever-changing because I am ever-changing. Admitting when one season of success is holding you back from the next is a hard reality to face, especially when meaningful and lifelong friendships have been forged along the way. Success is courage. And, it's time for me to step away from fear and have the courage to embrace a new season. 


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