What does it mean to be “successful”? Is it entering a certain income bracket? Lining up your accolades on the mantlepiece? Being especially good at one thing, or very good at many?
I’ve always been ambitious, someone who wanted to be the best at whatever they did. When I was younger and did ballet (which I adored), one day my teacher gave pointe shoes to everyone in the class but me. She later explained to my mum that my feet and legs were not strong enough yet, but at the time, I remember feeling the wind knocked out of me with such a sense of failure and disappointment.
The thing is, those moments never get easier. Those moments you define yourself as a failure, that just as you think you’ve climbed up and can see the top where the view promises to be all worth it, you lose your grip and fall and you lie there at the bottom, not knowing why you bothered in the first place.
But there is success in trying, and there is success in overcoming your fears, putting your pride on the line, in trusting yourself and pushing yourself. And there is certainly success in having no regrets because of the things you didn’t do.
That’s my idea of success, I think.