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As I write (and speak) this, the date on the calendar is Wednesday, September 4 (you may judge me further based on when it hits your inbox). That date isn’t particularly notable unless you are me and well aware that this very action should have been taken at least a couple of weeks ago.
You see, I intended to send this to you about every four weeks, but life and work have been lifin’ and workin’ overtime hours like they’re overdue on rent. To be fully transparent (because I did promise I would be), I was super bummed that I didn’t get it out last month. Me to me was like, “C’mon, girl! You didn’t even make it to four issues without a stoppage!” My imagination saw a giant FAIL stamp cover my face.
I was moping around when my partner, Andrew, never allowing such a state to pass, asked what was up. I shared, and it went from explaining my mild disappointment to a full-fledged rant about failure. His eyebrow notably arched at “failure,” and I knew I was in trouble. By trouble, I knew I would not get away with a simple, “Glad you got that off your chest, onwards and upwards” talk.
He: You mentioned being unsuccessful these days. Say more about what being successful looks like.
Me (sheepishly): I don’t know, not this. I feel like I’m always behind the eight ball, never entirely on top of things. I was supposed to do a lot of stuff to progress the business, and I’m just not as successful as I should be by now.
He then asked if that’s why I’d stopped doing the small things that make me happy and bring me peace. Ooofph. I forget I am surrounded by observant and loving people. Darn it.
He: So basically, you’re living the “cookies are for closers” argument? Why?
Me: (slowly as the bulb turns on, finally) I believe I deserve rest or rewards only once I cross the finish line. OOOFPH.
As the first and oldest daughter of an immigrant single-parent household, my auto-response is to push harder, do more, strive higher, and persevere. It ain’t over until you fall gasping at the finish line, triumphant, your back covered in the telltale bootprints that reveal your willing sacrifice–yourself. Then, do a little more.
I’m often quite uncomfortable with terms like mentor, entrepreneur, and even business owner because they feel like a fraud when you’re not where you want to be, or rather, where your imaginary made-up line is. But what Andrew said hit me like a brick–I’ve got it all wrong.
Your “I’m not very far” is someone else’s mountain peak. Everything you’ve overcome, challenges you’ve met, and bridges you built while crossing them is to refuse to acknowledge just how far those experiences have brought you.
No one you admire started where they are today, and probably, they aren’t done by their standards. The walk is the success you seek. Every one-foot-in-front-of-the-other you take daily is the victory—not some spot down the road but here, now, today.
The tricky thing about time is that it can dull the impact of things if you let it. You’ll suddenly forget the many mighty mini-triumphs that have made the dreams you had become real.
For me, success is being able to pick up my kid from school each day and creating a net of extra support he needs as a person with ADHD. Success is feeling safe in a volatile market because, for a chameleon with a central purpose, there is security in insecurity. I don’t take meetings on Monday, by choice. Success.
I want to remind you that you’re still here. Go ahead and look back (I’ll wait). You are WAY down the road from where you began and now armed with enough wisdom to know you can handle what’s next. You can’t get that for free; you gotta experience things, fall, trip, lay prostrate, and start over. By the end, you are forged in steel.
The cure is to accept the opposite of the “cookies are for closers” argument. True strength and success, a place full of acceptance for self, can only come when we don’t subscribe to the belief that we must earn the privilege to relax, rest, slow down, fail, gain perspective, acknowledge and embrace gratitude for wherever I am today, and the whole possibility of tomorrow. Trust the process.
Enjoy the cookie, you deserve.
With love,
Mercedes
