I tend to spend a lot of time wondering and worrying about whether I’m living up to my potential. Scratch that, because that’s a lie.
I spent a lot of time wondering and worry about whether or not I’m living up to what other people believe is my potential. There it is.
The truth is, I probably could do anything I put my mind to. I learn easily and well. I test extremely well. If I am motivated, I am unstoppable. The only person that ever really tries to get in my way is, well, me. And I can usually shut me up with the promise of a good scone.
So why, on paper, does it look like I haven’t done much with that potential to succeed? I spend countless hours worrying that I won’t be seen as accomplished enough, cool enough, but that doesn’t seem to get me motivated.
While I was slicing potatoes for a gratin, it occurred to me. I am as successful as I really want to be right now. I am a mother, wife, and friend. I’m a damn good cook. I’m usually patient and often kind. I am beginning to reconnect with my writing (despite a four day absence here, sorry, y’all). I am reading more, creating more, slowing down more often to be so fucking thankful that I can barely breathe for the beauty of it. Why wouldn’t that be an absolutely beautiful definition of success?
It is. So … goals.
- Cook amazing food.
- Write honest words.
- Value and trust my own definition of success.
- Be fluid enough to let the three above goals evolve and change as needed.