When I felt successful

I've been reflecting on when I've felt successful and it's been more multi-faceted than I expected. I realized that I've rarely felt successful in all aspects of my life simultaneously nor for long periods at a time.

I was struck that my purest feelings of success are often from childhood-learning to ride a bike, reading my first gas station sign by myself, getting my new dog Goldie and her sleeping on my bed, composing a simple rhyming poem, playing two-handed on the piano. Pride. Satisfaction. Accomplishment. Attainment. Moments of glory undimmed by loss or failure or vulnerability.

Later successes seem more complicated and alloyed.

Graduating valedictorian of my class- sure I felt like I'd worked hard and accomplished and yet I felt like graduating high school was the minimum expectation, not something to get all excited about. Frankly, the graduation itself was boring and anticlimactic.

Having good friends and a community we called Prayer Group in college- yes, I felt deeply connected to them. I often refer to my spirituality of the time as "surfing the God wave" because I felt swept up in something much bigger and more beautiful. However, I was deeply grieved and lonely, weeping hours a week alone. And that season ended, simply and timely, but the loss still rings in my soul almost two decades later.

Then there were my years at Taylors Falls and Turck facilitating community and communication, teaching, community organizing, becoming the darling of both groups- churches and business. Oh, every success of theirs was also deposited in my account. To participate in their success was heady success indeed. And yet, I never belonged to either group. Never lived or attended church in Taylors Falls nor was I employed by Turck. I was a catalyst, a beloved outsider who facilitated transformation within their communities, labored and celebrated with them, and in the end wasn't one of them.

I remember the moment of walking between two lines of professors as I graduated with my Masters, that feeling of being cheered on by those who'd gone before. I felt successful and happy and honored for that minute. And then another boring ceremony followed by stress. I was trying and failing to launch a business out of my research.

Reflecting on feelings of success, I do have some pure moments- creating art that I feel especially satisfied with, cooking good food, following all the square dance instructions and making it back to my home space correctly, stepping on the scale and seeing I've lost weight, finding the perfect gift- in those I feel success.

Perhaps my ambiguous feelings are because I now look back and see my pain and disappointment and frustration mixed right in throughout it all. I've wondered if I would ever live to see those glory days renewed or if I would always remember fondly and wistfully and painfully the beauty of those times.

A fiercer feeling of success comes to mind- the day I accepted that I had been sexually abused. I had gone to my chiropractor the morning after a debilitating panic attack. As we worked, I accepted the truth that had sucked the warmth from my life. I wept on the table. She offered her condolences as I was preparing to leave and I looked her right in the eye and said, "I have been like a dog chained to a stake, circling in craziness. And today, the stake has been given to my hand. I possess it and will no longer be a dog chained to it."

The kids were watching a Veggie Tales this morning and I was deeply moved by a song about how Jesus gave his best to the least. I found myself feeling least as I reflected on how little success I feel these days. Happiness, yes. Satisfaction, yes. Pleasure, yes. But successful, not so much, at least not instantly and unalloyed. I can walk myself through it. You're growing up, that's successful. You're kinder, that's successful. You're living deeply into your own life, that's successful. But often my first feeling is ... I don't even have a word. It's like, How did I get here? I was going to write books and do public speaking and live up to my potential and go places. And here I am doing laundry and trying to buy jeans for Anjali and being interrupted 2,000 times a day. Is this my potential? Is this what I went to school for 25 years for? Maybe the feeling is entitlement or disillusionment or ...

Well, even so, I'm not going back to the bad old days when I pursued success at cost of my own happiness. I'm not going to stop living my life or return to frantically running around. I know exactly where that road goes.

I'm going to give my emotions a chance to find a truer path to feeling successful.
I'm also going to do some more reflection on what about these various experiences and moments lead to feelings of satisfaction rather than praise from others about being successful. Because I think I've scrambled my compass by laying other people's accolades over my genuine feelings.

Looking forward to hearing your feedback.