All this comes on the heels of a couple of months in which I felt that I'd failed at a number of things. No, wait. Put down those raised hands of protest. I didn't say I felt like a failure. I just felt that I'd failed at some stuff. Maybe failed isn't even the right word - I felt as though I wasn't quite living up to various goals. And, hey, that's okay. It's okay to not live up to goals. It's okay to feel as though I'd failed. Every feeling is valid - the significance is in the reactions to those feelings.
Me? I slogged through it. I knew it was just me being me. It was me resetting old traps, only this time I saw where they were and sidestepped. I gave those traps the ol' "fuck you." And I just kept going. I kept believing. Then something happened. No, a series of things happened. So, it wasn't a big explosion of fireworks or a loud gong or anything like that. It was soft and quiet. It was like going to bed and waking up to the first snowfall of the winter. Y'know what I mean? That feeling that the whole world changed between Leno and Good Morning America.
I was commissioned by three separate people to do three art pieces. I was approached to do some writing for a company. People sought me out for greeting card orders. And dear gods, I was overwhelmed by my own foolish doubting and feelings of unworthiness.
What is success anyway? Is it a mansion? No. Is it a yacht? Nuh uh. (Well, okay, maybe... a yacht wouldn't exactly suck.) Is it flying first class to every destination on my bucket list? Not really. I know for sure it isn't money.
Success, as I discovered (all over again for the first time) is rightfully and only truly measured by the joy one feels. And joy, as always, is a choice.
So, happy anniversary, my little blog. We've come a very long way since those first timid steps on this particular path. Guess what? We just got paid for writing! Dude. I know, right? A very long way, indeed.
