Defining Success

How do you define success?

I thought it was about winning – getting what I wanted.  Achieving the sought-after goal! Anything less meant there was a problem: my effort wasn’t good enough. 

The perfect piece of art for the perfect house -
wherever that may be

I wasn’t good enough.

Of course I believe in trying your hardest and teaching my kids that winning isn’t everything.

“What counts is trying your best, not whether you win or lose!”

I believe that but if I “lose” I still feel that disappointment in the pit of my stomach.  I replay the situation over and over in my head to see if there was something I could have done differently to alter the outcome. 

I wonder if I really did leave it all on the table, exhausting all efforts, questioning, replaying, regretting.

Finally I have come to the realization that it really isn’t about getting what I want or achieving the goal but what I have done to get there.  (Yeah, I know, you would think I could have learned this years ago but I can be a little hard-headed.)

It’s silly how I got to this realization, really, but I see success very differently now. 

We are in the midst of selling our two-story house in order to move to a one-story.  Robert gets his own room, Richard doesn’t have increased back pain due to the stairs and I get less exercise.

Everybody wins.

The sale of our house has one more hurdle: the appraisal.  We have a buyer but don’t want the deal to fall through with a low appraisal and have to start over.  This offer is allowing us a “rent back” which means we don’t have to move twice.  A huge benefit and I am beyond grateful. We don’t want to rent our own house forever so we are on the search for a new one.

We found one we fell in love with and all signs pointed to it being OUR house. We visited it three times not to convince ourselves of its perfection but to spend time in the house. To pick out Robert’s room and our offices and to relish the extra half bath (joy!) and sit in the living room.

Our living room.  

Richard and I visually placed all of our furniture and artwork throughout this lovely home.  A piece of art that Richard won while on a cruise had the colors of the house in it. It was perfect for the front entry.

We placed an offer on the house, knowing our own house was still in the contingency period but it was a strong offer. Our agent made it clear we were within days of clearing all contingencies. 

There is absolutely nothing more we could have done to get this house.

The same day we were waiting for our offer to be reviewed our house was being appraised.

(The Universe has a sick sense of humor.)

We did everything possible to make our house look its best. I know a clean house and freshly cut grass shouldn’t translate into extra dollars but appraisers are human too.  First impressions do make a difference. 

After the appraisal and while we waited to hear about the offer I realized that everything was now out of our hands.  We had done everything we possibly could to get the dream house and to get the highest appraisal possible. Everything.  Even I couldn’t think of one more thing that we could have done. 

I realized that no matter the outcome, I could feel good about our efforts and could call this a success.  Even if we didn’t get the house or get as much for our house.

We had left everything on the table.

When we got the news today that we did not get the house we wanted I did not feel regret.  Not one bit.  It was disappointing, for sure, but I knew we did our best and knew that our best was good enough.

For a reason not yet known to us, that house was not meant to be ours.  As much as everything seemed perfect, there is something else out there for us. (We are still waiting on the appraisal.)

Of this I am sure: our best efforts were good enough. 

This is a lesson I have been trying to learn while caregiving because the feeling of my efforts not being good enough have a way of eating at me.  Mom died – was there some treatment we could have found to cure her? Dad died – should we have tried dialysis even after he expressly stated “no dialysis”?  I grappled with these thoughts after each one died and finally put those thoughts to rest.

With caregiving, it is difficult to define winning. There isn’t really a “winning” outcome with caregiving. Regret and guilt are often part of the caregiving experience.

I wondered if I would question myself once Robert’s time came.  I don’t want to, I don’t want any regrets. How could I declare my caring for him a win if he dies? I want to say I left everything on the table.

Finally, I made the connection.  There is nothing to win in caregiving.  It is all about effort. It is about leaving it all on the table.  

We did everything possible to get that lovely house and we have done everything possible to keep Robert healthy, happy and, yes, even excellent. 

That is how I define success. 

How do you define success?

Goodbye Wayward Son, Hello Airman!

Airman Son & Sisters

Remember Wayward Son?  No effort from him.  Lots of frustration from me (and his dad).  His high school years were a struggle for all of us. Even the animals got sick of all the yelling in the house.

Well, he is now a graduate of Air Force Basic Training!

I actually didn’t believe it when people told me we would see a remarkable difference after Basic Training.  My thoughts ranged from, “I wonder if you can actually die from video game withdrawal” to “what can they do in eight weeks that we couldn’t do in several years” to “please, take him.  Help!”

Our family flew to San Antonio, Texas for the graduation event.  I made the flight reservations early and told Wayward Son that he better graduate because I didn’t want to waste a flight and was going to San Antonio to visit Sea World whether he graduated or not.  (I know – I’m such a mean mommy!).

Happily for us, we saw him graduate and, (bonus!), I still got to visit Sea World. 

During one of the graduation ceremonies yet before we were actually able to see our Airman Son, one of the speakers apparently read my mind because he said, “Parents, when you see your child you will wonder how we were able to transform them in eight short weeks when you couldn’t do it in several years.”

They were not kidding.

This boy who, just a couple of months ago, had no inkling of what it was like to think of anyone but himself and argued with us about anything and everything just for sport, held doors open for us, spoke to us with respect, told us he loved us and carried himself like a man. 

He even seemed a little taller.

He had a group of peers who showed him respect (he’s showing leadership skills!) and he talked about one or two people in the flight who were “recycled” because they weren’t team players and would just sit around while everyone else did chores and worked. (Hmm, sounds vaguely familiar).

He excitedly told us about his new job (a mechanic on the B-52) and how proud of himself he was that he had to undergo a more extensive background check in order to be accepted into the program (and I was quietly grateful his wayward ways hadn’t led to anything more major than costly traffic tickets). 

Even though I am not this boy’s “real” mom, concerns about the choices he was making before enlisting clouded my vision of his future.  I am the step-mom, the one who has no problem stepping aside to let his mom and dad hug him and love on him first upon seeing him at his graduation but I do feel like his mom and have helped raise him, have worried about him and did my best to teach him to be polite and loving and compassionate. 

Many times, it felt as if these lessons were going into a black hole.

The mom in me has to fully admit that I wasn’t thrilled with the idea of sending this boy into the military, particularly during a time of conflict.  I know I was supposed to be proud and pleased that he was going to serve our country but as a self-described pacifist, I had difficulty mustering up a supportive “HOORAH!” 

The mom in me wanted him to choose another path which didn’t involve putting himself in harm’s way but somehow kick started him to a productive and happy future.

Now that I’ve seen him though, and who he has become, I am (for once) happy he didn’t listen to me. 

I am proud of my Airman Son and proud to call myself an Air Force Mom. My eyes well up when he recites the Airman’s Creed with passion and honor and shouts the last line of the Airman’s Creed, in unison with his fellow Airman: I WILL NOT FAIL!

No, you won’t Airman Son.  I believe that now. 

You will not fail.

Effort

Sometimes I can be a little preachy – just ask my kids. Or my husband, for that matter. Okay, ask anyone who knows me. Today, wonderful readers (and I do think you’re wonderful because I am just amazed I have readers!), you will find this out about me too.

It bothers me beyond belief when people don’t put their full effort into whatever it is they are working on. Why not put in 100% (or more) effort? What makes people just do enough to get by? Why waste talent and energy and intelligence? Why give up just because something might be a little (or a lot) challenging? My favorite quotes are those dealing with persistence, tenacity and never giving up.

“Failure is falling down nine times and getting up ten.” -- Jon Bon Jovi

“Success consists of getting up one more time than you fall.” -- Oliver Goldsmith

As a part-time freelance writer with a goal of doing so full-time, quotes like these have to be my mantras or I would never get anything published.

The topic of effort has been on my mind lately because I find myself comparing the effort Robert puts in to every day activities to an Unnamed Son’s attitude of skating through school (and life). It takes Robert almost two hours to shave, change and brush his hair in the morning (and that’s without a shower!). It takes Unnamed Son thirty minutes to get ready in the morning (one minute to shower, change, brush his teeth, do his hair and put in his contacts and 29 minutes to let the shower run for no reason).