Success is fickle and nuanced

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As I get older, now almost 30, my views on success become more and more nuanced. As a younger man, I defined it along the shallower terms that most do: fame, fortune, power, etc. But now, I see it is not that simple. The closer I get to 30, the more I find myself questioning the role my 20s played in my development. Psychologist Meg Jay deemed the 20s the "Defining Decade" so I know those years are important, but for me, they are pretty much gone. That is sort of a sinking feeling for me. When I look back, I'm left wondering what did I really accomplish.

There are a few things I'm proud of. Goals I reached that showed my ability to persevere and see what I was made of. Among those was getting an education (Bachelors/Masters) and studying/working abroad (South Korea). Those were the big accomplishments of my 20s and took the majority of my time to achieve. As I near 30, I tend to forget about these accomplishments. They get lost in everything else I am doing, or trying to achieve. However, when I take a second to take stock of them, I have a fleeting moment where I am proud of myself. I am proud that I got an education, even though it was expensive and difficult. I am proud I took the time to travel and work in another country because it changed the way I look at the world, once and forever.

Too often, we get lost in the NEXT BIG THING. Even when you win the Superbowl or World Series, the next thing reporters ask is, "What's next?" That is endemic in our success-driven, consumer-based culture. We have to keep moving, doing, buying. I have to stop myself from falling into this same train of thought. I am old enough, perhaps wise enough, to know that the luxury car, big house, or whatever widget is probably not the key to my happiness or a hallmark of my success as an individual in society. And yet, it is difficult to break out of measuring my life along those lines.

At this juncture, I am working part-time as an adjunct instructor for a local community college. I enjoy the work and find it fulfilling most day. That is what keeps me going. I don't make a lot of money doing this, but I do believe it is important work. Still, paltry paychecks, dwindling balances, and bills can sometimes take the wind out of my sails. I sometimes feel I should be DOING MORE, WORKING HARDER, and making MORE MONEY. Why? To have more money? To buy more things? Is this success? Does this define me?

When I tell my friends and family about working as an adjunct, they all tend to see it as a pitstop onto a more lucrative career. They tend to put their value on money, and what it can buy. But for me, there is a value in teaching. When the lightbulbs are coming on, and students are engaged, it is really fun. I don't know that you can put a price tag on that, as cliche as it may sound. Still, as friends and relatives measure success in this way, it makes me feel I should do the same. I end up questioning myself, and my goals. Like, Hey, maybe they are right. I should do something else. I do need to make more money. Maybe I am not on the path to success after all? 

Part of the need and craving for success is that people want to be noticed, recognized, and valued. We all have a little need for the "Look at me!" from our past childhood. Everyone is searching for this to some degree. And, getting others to notice is becoming a more and more shallow goal is today's world where everyone is more self-centered and self-absorbed. At any given moment, our attention is only going to fall on any one thing for a second or two, and then its on to the NEXT thing. The reporters keep asking, "What's next?" 

So, is there a silver bullet for all this malaise, ennui associated with the almost-30 blues? Probably not. Or, at least I haven't found it yet. But the one thing I have found is that in American society today we tend to define each other along classist lines. We define each other in objects, things, money, occupations. We don't try to understand each other through what we think, believe in, or value. Because of this, people often walk away from each other at dinner parties with very shallow views.

We are each grouping one another into an appropriate cubby and class. As such, I'm not very interesting at dinner parties. Yes, I'm a teacher. Yes, I'm poor x ad nauseam.  Now put me into my cubby thanks! Also, what I've learned is that success is not defined by what you can buy, or the recognition you receive from what you do. I try to fight the urge for the "Look at me!" which everyone craves these days. After all, as General Patton once said, "All glory is fleeting."