You were born awesome, but are you now average?

You were birthed as a little, brittle bundle of infinite potential. Once forced kicking and screaming into this world, you attracted attention like a bursting baby bloom; radiating life and filling all those around you with a sense of joyful abandon they had long lost in adult life.
But it didn’t stop there; in fact… you grew up incredible!
And you found everything around you equally incredible. You dove under duvet seas, chased pirates around the garden, rode unicorns above the clouds, and lived your life wrapped in a blanket of utter awe and astonishment. Everything shone with a whimsical wonder and you, as part of this everything, did too.
So far so good…
And next came school; a terrific temple to learning frequented by children with a devotion to knowledge.
Where the magic within science and the universe are explored, where you write and recount amazing stories of all that you are learning, where teachers eat crunchy apples that you place on their desks, where the pencil is your mighty sword, the calculator your tech-tastic shield, and you adventure to the peak of the Mighty Math Mountain, past the Lake of long-lost Languages, and on towards the Dastardly Desert of Diplomas!
Or…
Where you learn how to sit still.
Where you learn how to stay quiet.
Where you learn that everything has a right and wrong answer.
Where you learn that life isn’t easy, that people cause wars, that science explains magic, that religion is critically important, and worse still, that silence is golden.
So you sat in silence.
You didn’t realise it at the time, but school taught you how to be completely average.
And most people stay average for the rest of their lives.
How awful is that?
You know why I tell you this?
Because I was that happy little nerd who walked into school on the first day with a proudly sharpened pencil, a cheap but functional calculator and an inexplicably oversized lunchbox that housed only a modest cheese and mustard sandwich and an anaemic apple.
And you know what? In the years I spent there, I was conditioned to be normal. I realise now, as you may too, that being normal is just another way of saying being average.
‘I realise now, as you may too, that being normal is another way of saying being average.’
Over time, through school, work, and life, we all learn the questionable joy of being like everyone else. Otherwise known as the joy of hating one’s job, or just Jamie in accounting. The joy of having a loveless relationship that is better than being alone, but only marginally. The joys of repressing one’s true self so that others don’t find you out to be abnormal, as we all secretly are.
Simply, in our own unique ways, we all learn the distinctly average joy of joylessness.
And by the age of 16, I was already quite bored of being average. I wanted more.
So, like many other angst-ridden young people, I rebelled in the worst possible way.
I started partying.
Hard.
As well as partying, I used meaningless sex to hide my terribly average lack of love for myself and others, I avoided work like the plague and I hid who I really was, so well in fact, that eventually I completely forgot what I looked like at the start — back when I was awesome.
Forgetting who I was deep down made me feel like I was fading away. As if it is only in knowing who we are, that we exist at all.
When I reached this point, I became quite awful.
‘As if it is only in knowing who we are, that we exist at all.’
Long story short, I probably should have died (we’ll get to that).
And I stayed lost for some years, until the day that it became clear to me that something had to change — and that something was me.
If my life was so dreadful that death stalked my every step, then perhaps I’d made a mistake along the way. And perhaps this mistake could be undone.
Having realised just how awful I had become, I vowed to be average again even if it killed me — which was ultimately better than just dying pointlessly at my own depressed hand.
It’s fair to say that I managed the journey back to normality, by most people’s estimations at least.
And finally, a few years on, I returned to the average masses.
I settled into a job and started climbing the corporate ladder.
I paid off my debt, slowly.
I entered a stable long-distance relationship with someone I barely knew (being geographically apart meant I never really had to face up to what I desired sexually, which was deviating from where I currently found myself).
I continued to live surrounded by people I didn’t relate to.
I pretended that I was happy, when I was actually just — OK.
This lasted another handful of years, and within these I learnt just how awful I had been. I apologised ceaselessly, forgave things I never thought I could and, not realising I was doing so, prepped myself to be open to awesomeness.
And finally, my journey to awesomeness was set back on track, for the first time since I was a toddler, on the day that I sat on my bed, staring out of the window wondering whether life was really meant to be merely OK? Surely there was something more? Surely there was something I was meant to do? Surely failure in trying to do so would be better than forever just being OK?
I had soon convinced myself that there was something more. And that ‘more’ was not transactional, it wasn’t of the material and it was simply something — more.
Clearly, I was not exactly sure of what I was looking for. But, incredibly (the kind of incredible you see as a child), I found it.
And I am only now doing justice to the awesomeness that I so easily embodied when I first popped into this world. Yet, even then, it’s in tiny glimpses. I can only wonder what it would feel like to be awesome all the time, but frankly I find my fleeting awesome moments so tiring, that I’m convinced humans aren’t meant to be this way all the time. Although I do think it is our job to at least fail in trying to be.
‘I’m convinced humans aren’t meant to be this way all the time. Although I do think it is our job to at least fail in trying to be’.
So, we’ve hit somewhat of an impasse, Dear Reader. I must ask you to be honest with yourself.
If you are reading this, and you don’t think you have yet experienced what it feels like to be awesome in adult life, then I ask you, do you want to be average all the time?
Popular culture defines average as awesome, in most cases. So, if you like that definition, then by all means stay there. Climb up the corporate ladder, buy the bigger house and car, and go on a swankier holiday. Update your social media regularly to show that you not only merely keep up with the Joneses but you are slowly becoming them. Be free to be you, if being you is being the societal definition of awesome, I won’t judge you. I will just see you as average.
It must also be stated that the average route is by far the easiest. There is little doubt. You walk the straightest stretch — trudge, trudge, trudge — not deviating from the norm for even a moment. And then you die. It’s all laid out in front of you, you just need to step tentatively forward, in pace with the traffic as to avoid any objective danger.
Equally, the awful route is markedly worse than the average one. It’s on the same stretch of road, just instead of moving forwards, you are wandering around the same bit lost, drunk, and confused. And your chances of getting squashed by a car increase with every additional moment that you spend in this state.
So really, is avoiding being awful our life’s aim?
Or is that bar set too low?
All that’s left is the awesome route, the hardest one to see. The awesome route deviates from the average road, gets you lost in the surrounding forest, sometimes for almost a lifetime. You scramble through the foliage and tall trees in search of something you cannot define (that something I mentioned earlier) until you stumble upon it and it’s a jetpack. On activating it you soar free, into the air, above all those choosing an average and awful life and for a brief moment, you are invincible.
That is, until the fuel runs out and you return to earth. If you are lucky, you may just land back on the road and a little further along it. If you are unlucky, you plummet straight back into the forest. Reality hits.
We are not meant to be awesome all the time.
At this point you have a choice, to return to the road, or to keep looking for another jetpack. Should you choose the latter, you will be surprised when you hear the faint whirr of a jetpack engine, perhaps only a couple of miles off. Being awesome the first time is the hardest and with time it becomes easier and easier.
So, when it comes down to it. Are you walking the road you want to walk?
Or are you, like me, searching endlessly for jetpacks?
Or more simply put,
Do you have what it takes to become awesome again?
AN ODE TO BEING AWFUL

The funny thing about being awful, is that whilst in this state, there’s many different ways to hide one’s true awfulness under the guise of fun.
I mean for me at least, I was the biggest party animal in town. Shots all round! Pound them down! Sleep is for the weak! Party till we’re dead!
But only centimeters beneath the thin veneer of party perfection, was a deeply in debt, intensely miserable, profoundly lost, burgeoning alcoholic, hiding his lack of self-understanding behind big beer goggles (or in my case those awful slatted plastic party ‘glasses’ that inexplicably appeared around 2007, the ones that look like you are covering your eyes with 70s office blinds).
The sad thing about drinking to the point I did, is that drugs are only but a short sniff, bomb, or pill away. At the time, I was a performing musician and student, with absolutely no self-esteem, so being gifted heavily discounted (or even free) opportunities to further forget my meaninglessness, could only be seen as a perk.
I fondly recall the time I bombed ketamine (the horse tranquilizer) and MDMA, after going halves on a bottle of champagne, and followed this up with enough drinks to throw 15 long-term members of Alcoholics Anonymous headfirst off the wagon.
That was so unbelievably fun and cool.
Everyone said I was awesome.
But, was I? Was it fun? Or was it actually really, really scary?
At the time, I didn’t realise just how awful I was. But looking back, there were some pretty blatant indicators I would have picked up on had I not been so wasted all the time:
1. My ‘diet’ comprised mostly of frankfurters and microwave rice. With ketchup. And/or squeezy Mayo. Mostly all at once. (Likely contributors to my ballooning to 320lbs).
2. The time when I mistook my friend’s bedroom wardrobe for a urinal was not actually a one-off. Nor was waking up with my head in a bin, which happened to me almost as many times as I woke up in public places.
3. I once took an evening stroll to a quaint local motorway with no intention of returning, and stood atop the pedestrian footbridge crossing it back and forth for a good hour, deciding whether jumping over the side would end the emptiness.
4. I was swimming in party pals, but ignoring those telling me I was completely out of control; I remember one time, two of my good friends sat crying in my room, at what I had become, as I drank myself to sleep.
5. I started looking over my shoulder when walking down the street, convinced that someone was following me at all times. I realize now that I was scared of getting close to the real me, who was pursuing me relentlessly.
6. I was convinced I had not long to live, and I didn’t want to waste time waiting to die.
7. I didn’t brush my teeth more than twice a week.
So, with hindsight, I was distinctly below average, even if just for the tooth-brushing thing.
I can laugh about it now, because I’ve learnt how to be awesome (although of course I spend most of my time struggling as an average person trying to be awesome). I can say though, that the day I first realized just how awful I had become, was a supreme shit-show. It was, quite absolutely, the worst curtain call one could ever have… And I’m the guy who once drank a bar-sized bottle of vodka before going on stage.
So, I had to get average again, even if it killed me. Here are some things I did in a bid to return to average:
1. I attended counseling (it didn’t work as the counselor said that I already knew what was wrong — even though I couldn’t fix it into words).
2. I got an expensive gym membership (for someone in debt) and went at least once a day, sometimes twice. (It worked, eventually, and I lost around 100lbs).
3. I was prescribed happy pills, and floated around in a trance for 6 months (that was enough to get me out of the pure darkness, but actually ended up being pretty terrifying too, as it left me drained of feeling. Being emotionless is now one of my biggest fears).
4. I got a job. Working with disabled young adults. And then quit it (when one of the young gentlemen threw a table at my head and concussed me).
5. I stopped drinking for a good few months and tried to curb my equally damaging cheese addiction. (I mostly succeeded, but sometimes fell for the allure of intoxication and the musty deliciousness of a farty French Brie).
6. I went to cognitive behavioral therapy (this really helped, because it taught me skills to fight against the worst of my habits).
7. I started to prune my relationships and ditched the party people, replacing them with a handful of far more dull (but secretly far more awesome) people.
8. I got my own apartment, and took on an unpaid radio job in a prison (helping me realize just how lucky I was, and how wrong I was for being awful).
9. I broke off my long-term relationship with music. Which was like ripping off a limb without anesthetic. But then, it had become toxic, and I knew that this amputation was necessary to save my life.
And then, once all this was done, I realized I was a little less awful.
And do you know how awesome that felt?
I could hear a TV commentator.
“His status is (drum roll) not awful!” (And the crowd erupts in cheers!).
For someone who went where I went, that was a real Olympic podium moment.
The thing is, most people never really get awful. But they do have moments where they dip to similar lows. We all have a little darkness in our hearts that we must learn to overcome.
Do you remember the last awful thing you did?
Let me offer one little tidbit I learnt coming back from the brink of suicide:
Forgive yourself.
Forgive others.
You don’t need to forget, but you do need to forgive.
‘You don’t need to forget, but you do need to forgive’
Forgiveness is the most powerful tool in the universe. It’s the only tool that can set you free.
Anyway, I wanted to take you through my awful past, the one that I sometimes return to with mistakes, as proof, should this essay come across as preachy, that I’m far from even close to perfect.
I am a flawed mess who’s learned to own his scars, to forgive, and to live in the pursuit of awesomeness.
Once you’ve seen it, there is nothing more to life than the pursuit of awesomeness.
I often see awesomeness through an imagined thick pane of soundproof glass, screaming in a language I can’t understand, imploring me to become awesome. Begging.
And if I stare hard enough, every now and again, I might catch a little something. I lip-read a little truth.
That’s what being awesome is. Lip-reading truth.
But let’s put a pin in that thought, as even thinking of becoming awesome, is something that can only be learned after mastering the art of being average.
THE ART OF BEING AVERAGE.

So, what does being average really mean?
I spent a good amount of time being average, once I had minimised the time spent being awful, and at first there was a real sense of novelty to being average. I walked around feeling part of something, perhaps for the first time, and it felt sweet!
Finding myself on the straight and narrow was like waking up in a bed that I knew was mine, but in a bedroom that looked significantly better than the room I had last fallen asleep in.
‘Finding myself on the straight and narrow was like waking up in a bed that I knew was mine, but in a bedroom that looked significantly better than the room I had last fallen asleep in.’
They said it would get better.
And it had… ish.
I even started to spot people stuck in awful places, and was gifted with a new and wonderful empathy that meant I could at absolute least understand where they were.
So what had I learnt en-route to average from awful?
Well, the main things I managed to phase out on the road to being A-OK included:
1. Crying myself to sleep at least twice a week, largely due to a recurring realisation of the emptiness in my life. (I would maybe have this type of revelation a far more healthy once a month whilst average, and perhaps now closer to once a year).
2. Planning my weeks according to when I would be hung-over; ensuring I never did enough to escape the cycle (During average times I ensured I had largely non-reckless drinking nights and reserved nights of drink-based debauchery for special occasions).
3. Eating as a means to improve my mood, a.k.a the cheese-on-everything diet (although of course I still did this every now again, for old times’ sake).
4. Using sex to placate my sense of loneliness (as an average person sex became enjoyable, mostly).
5. Letting my sense of pride stop me from seeking the help that I desperately needed (the most important one, I finally saw the magic of humility).
And these steps were enough to make me realise my goal of becoming average. Here are some distinctly average experiences I’ve had whilst no longer being awful all the time:
1. I disliked my job and did absolutely nothing about it — apart from moan.
2. I disliked living where I lived and did nothing about it — apart from moan.
3. I disliked the relationship I was in, but was far more afraid of being alone so I did nothing — apart from moan.
4. I continued to drink alcohol, although I knew that doing so hadn’t made me happy for a long time — drinking with my peers was a way to moan publicly.
5. I let stress from work and general adult life get me down — guess what I did? I moaned.
6. I didn’t have faith that I would ever understand my greater purpose, if there even was one — this was the only one I didn’t moan about, I just tried to ignore it.
And therein lies the real crime of being normal…
Awesome people don’t moan — they simply do — whilst awful people self-destruct over things they don’t know better about, or they have lost their way in.
“What about average people?” I hear you ask. Well, they do absolutely nothing at all.
(apart from moan — which is worse)
The important thing that I learned on the road to being average, was that becoming average should not be the end goal but instead a stepping-stone to something more.
I had come a long way from the bottom to the middle, and having made this arduous stretch of my journey, it seemed a waste not to aim for the top.
Once I’d managed to stay average for a stable, sustained period, I first tried to be awesome.
(Spoiler — I’m still figuring out what being awesome even means, let alone living it!)
BECOMING AWESOME

So, what does being awesome mean? Well, I see it like this:
As humans, we exist on one side of a pane of limitless soundproof glass, with truth residing on the other side. We can never pass through this glass, at least not whilst we hold an atomic form. Instead, we have the opportunity to look through it, to the glorious screaming voice of truth, and try to interpret it.
We all have this potential. No exceptions.
Whilst awful, as I used to be, we are too drunk, high, and/or lost to even understand that such a pane could exist, let alone one through which we can understand truth. It is for this reason that we end up hopeless. We see no truth and we cannot know that it exists.
We choose to be blinded by our addictions and afflictions. We are, at this point, beyond love’s reach — that is, until we open our eyes.
‘We choose to be blinded by our addictions and afflictions. We are, at this point, beyond love’s reach — that is, until we open our eyes’.
As an average person, we stand facing away from the pane of glass, conscious that it may exist. But, it is just never the ‘right’ time to turn around, or it’s just too much effort or there are more pressing material things to attend to. We are lazy, or distracted by the material; often both.
As someone seeking to be awesome, I (like my brethren) choose to focus all my attention on trying to stare through this pane of glass. I try to ensure that I am facing towards it at all times, and should I falter (which, admittedly, I do more often than not) I attempt to re-adjust. I am endlessly distracted, weakened through my humanity, and assaulted by hate as I try to focus on the omnipotent love that exists beyond the glass.
It is the hardest choice.
But what truly great things in life don’t come from hardship?
Given the mental and physical choice, I can spend my life staring at truth’s mesmerizing lips, trying to divulge meaning. And this is what awesome people try to do. Of which there have been many through history, and you could be one too.
The beauty of facing the pane, is that every now and again, you lip-read something meaningful, something of love.
‘The beauty of facing the pane, is that every now and again, you lip-read something meaningful, something of love’.
Now, I often still struggle to translate what this lip-read revelation means, as my poor human brain is nothing close to good enough to process this. But this glimpse, if properly meditated on, can become something truly valuable.
You can be awesome — anyone can.
You are good enough — as I am good enough.
You have the ability to try to lip-read — you may even be the ultimate interpreter.
All you have to do is turn to face the pane.
Turn away from life’s innocuous and immaterial distractions.
Turn away from those who preach the joys of being average.
Turn away from those who drive their lives through fear.
And turn towards the pane.
Here are some things that helped me turn to face the pane:
1. I stopped drinking alcohol entirely, and found a sense of calm and control (I’m too weak to control alcohol, so I just stopped).
2. I stopped eating meat and animal products, as for me; this is something I don’t believe I should be doing (if I can’t kill an animal, I have no right to eat one).
3. I forgave myself for my ongoing weaknesses and I am constantly analysing ways that I have failed and continue to fail, to avoid repeating my mistakes. I don’t wallow, I learn.
4. I brush my teeth twice a day and I realize that if I am to share as much love as I have the potential to, I need to start respecting my body as the incredible life-long companion it is (Sorry body! I’ve messed with you a lot over the years).
5. I realized that every day is one more opportunity to love more than the last. Every second of every day is filled with the potential to change everything we are. Living this way makes me feel free.
6. I’ve focused my attention on understanding what my awesome self wants, and not just my body (although addressing both is necessary, don’t give up sex! If anything, do it more).
7. I stopped buying unnecessary ‘stuff’ and started spending my money on improving my health, helping others, and traveling.
8. I moved to a country better suited to where I wanted to go with my life (Canada, in case you are wondering).
9. I’ve replaced ruminating on all the crap things in my life, with meditating on all the things I should be grateful for. I keep a constant list of all of these.
10. I quit my corporate job to pursue music one more. It’s far riskier, but I would rather fail than die have regretted never trying again.
This remains my interpretation of what I need/needed to do to reach the awesome mindset.
And although we can both walk down the same road, your journey will be one taken in your own unique steps.
Here are some of the questions I asked myself, that you should consider when trying to find or understand your own awesome:
1. What do I do to myself that hurts me? Why do I do it?
2. What would the best version of me do today that I am not doing?
3. Do I love myself? If not, how can I love others?
4. Is there anything I could do today to improve my health (both mental and physical)?
5. What can I do today to help someone else?
I fundamentally believe that in order to become someone who is able to do awesome things, one must honestly answer those five questions. And to reiterate, you were once awesome; you popped out of the womb awesome. So there really isn’t any reason why you can’t become awesome again.
‘And to reiterate, you were once awesome; you popped out of the womb awesome. So there really isn’t any reason why you can’t become awesome again’.
I have complete faith that you can be awesome once more, if you are willing to fight to be it.
I am fighting this fight and stumbling often.
And it would be far easier if I had a fellow adventurer to pick me up when I fall.
Join me?
Written by Frankie Cote, Founder of BE INFINITY. For more please see @beinfinityofficial on Instagram.
Illustrated & Copy-edited by Billy Picard. Billy is an illustrator, copywriter and generally nice guy. For more please see @billyjwp on Instagram.
