Thoughts on Success

Once again I come to you with thanks - you have chosen to read this blog it.

And even if you don’t read it, you have chosen to have this letter in your inbox. And even if it goes straight to junk, there is a possibility that you are reading this on the day that you absolutely needed or wanted to. It might be six months after I have written it. Anyway, it means a lot to have your eyes scanning over my words. 

These words I put together on this page are often the culmination of years of rumination. They tend to flow out of me with absolutely no effort at all, and the fact is they have been rolling over and over in my mind for donkey’s years. I only have to listen to know what is right for me to share today. 

Today it's about the notion of 'success' and what success has meant to me over the years.

In my teaching career, across all different schools and systems, and even countries (hello London) I felt part of a larger structure that ranked success in many ways. There was a scaffold of hierarchy and the kids were on the bottom and staff were on the top. They knew it and I knew it. We measured success in a variety of ways – attendance was one, grades or marks were another, promotions were another, as were relationships.
If you got on well with the kids and the staff then surely you were successful? If you were walking/ striding/ clawing your way along the ladder from student, to teacher, to executive then surely that was successful?

For me, none of that felt all that successful in the end.

I had glimpses during my school teaching career of success – my measurements were often monetary related. I had a car, a house that I co-owned with the bank, very fancy clothes and shoes and a hairstyle that required hours of preparation and bucket loads of money (I had the excruciating pleasure of having strands of hair pulled through a swimming cap set up, so those chosen strands could then be bleached to within an inch of their life, then combed through with the rest of the hairs, that had also been through some kind of life altering chemical change, so it looked like I lived a healthy, sun kissed life, on the beach. I have never lived on the beach. I was spending most of my days indoors at a desk planning and meeting or at the pub drinking and flirting).

I digress... Oh no I don't...

At around the same time I also decided it was a good chance to tuck those limp locks under a cap and try my hand at the ‘Couch to 5K’ running plan. Before we go on, let’s be clear that this body is not made for running. A girlfriend and I decided to do it together – for different reasons – and it was some kind of torture. We were running around the park with a stopwatch. I AM LAUGHING OUT LOUD as I type this.
May I remind you that neither of us were built to run long distances. My gorgeous friend even purchased a bra that resembled the safety harness set up of a Formula One racing car, on the recommendation of Oprah no less, which set her back a sweet penny yet guaranteed to hold her ladies firm. We were dedicated to the cause. We must have been running away from something. I was anyway… I can’t speak for my gorgeous friend.
ANYWAY this was meant to be the time where my career was in full flight – when I was experiencing the dizzy heights of ‘success’. I was miserable. Success looks very different for everyone and yet deep inside we all know if we have ‘made it’. If we are still running, literally and figuratively, then maybe we haven’t reached whatever our version of success is meant to look like.

In my book, success is effortless - there is no grind, or numbers of bums on seats, or a bank balance that can tell you you are killing it. It's an inside job. It can only be measured on an internal satisfaction level.

For me it’s the state of my relationships that are a testament to my success; it’s how I feel when my feet touch the carpet first thing in the morning; it’s the language I’m using to speak to myself; it’s the conversations I’m having at the checkout at Bernardi’s; it’s the way I can write this email with very little self doubt and a lot of joy; it’s the way I no longer procrastinate; it’s the way I speak up when something doesn’t feel right or safe; it’s parenting and having your 8 year old son say ‘You’re weird mum’ and feeling immense pride in that backhanded compliment.

If I’m ‘weird’ then I am doing something right. I am not ticking the box of success that others might be, and yet I have never felt so successful – even when my bank balance hit an all time low of $6.45 two weeks ago. On we go!

Sending you all so much love, Cherie

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