Why Success Is Not Always Good For You
Or at least it hasn’t been for me.
27th August, 2018 // in The Coffeehouse Cleric // by Alex Rowe
What are you meant to do with success when it comes your way? This is a strange question to meditate upon, and I do not want the reader to think ill of me, taking my use of personal anecdotes as a poorly disguised excuse to humble brag. My own life is all I have to work with, and like all of us, it is from the subjectivity of my own experience that I begin to try to make sense of the world.
It was on a recent day trip to Oxford that I found a new clarity. I was sitting on a bench within the grounds of Keble College, admiring the beautiful surrounds that I will soon see regularly come October, when I commence my graduate studies. Soft Summer light shone through the leaves of the tree behind me, casting pretty patterned shadows about my feet. The blue sky accompanied perfectly the deep red of the intricate brickword and the hues of green grass mowed in neat lines. Had you taken a photograph, the scene would have looked idyllic. I should have been happy, but I wasn’t.
I was unsure what I felt as I sat on that bench. I tried to slow down and pay attention, as though I were an observer of my own emotions, watching them as they washed over me. Over the past few days, I’ve taken time to think and to reflect. During this time, one truth in particular has impressed upon my mind with renewed vigour. And it is this: Success is not always good for you.
There are, of course, many reasons why success is a good thing. Success in the workplace leads to monetary reward and an improved standard of living; success in romantic relationships means greater emotional, psychological, or sexual satisfaction; success in family life feels like a sense of harmony and belonging. Clearly, then, I need to qualify what I mean when I say that success is not always good.
Success is not always good for you, psychologically. Or at least it hasn’t been for me. Why? Because it is often distracting or debilitating, stopping you from being fully present and active in every moment. It can get in the way from your enjoyment of the daily processes that led to your success in the first place. In what follows I try to tease this out in a little more depth.
On the one hand, success can be distracting and cause you to plateau. After a taste of success, you risk becoming proud, even arrogant. You grow into a false complacency, which then causes you to plateau both the effort you put in and the results you get out. This is something I personally encountered when initially offered a place at Oxford. I had landed a place on my dream program, at one of the best universities in the world, and I was practically being paid to do it, paid to do something I love. I had worked hard and this was my prize. But no sooner had the time of celebration passed than I entered into a period of minimal productivity and effectiveness. I plateaued, and started to nose-dive. In order to get myself unstuck, I had to challenge myself to replace that pride with a sobering realisation: once at Oxford, the achievement was not so noteworthy. All my peers could equally revel in the pride of their own successful admission. I’d be no different.
On the other hand, success can be debilitating and might paralyse you with fear. This feeling came after the initial pride and is, I think, something like the feeling I had as I sat on that bench. You see, when I was first admitted to Oxford I felt a sense of relief, like I’d finally arrived at a destination I’d long journeyed towards. But the relief was short-lived. Soon enough, I began to think ahead to the next journey, and all the challenges I’d meet along the way. Like a new job, come October there would be pressure to perform, to make a good first impression. I worried I wouldn't measure up to the demands placed upon me, or meet the expectations of my teachers, or keep up with the pace of my peers. This was all overwhelming. Though I had plenty of time to prepare, my motivation dissipated amidst all the fear. It’s a strange feeling to be afraid of the thing you love.
After almost two months, I am finding new clarity and facing my feelings head on. Though it’s no bad thing to feel proud of achievements or relief when hard work pays off, I’ve realised that this particular success hasn’t been wholly good for me. It’s been distracting and debilitating. More specifically, it has kept me from enjoying the very thing that led to my success in the first place: the process; the daily doing of the thing I am most passionate about.
It sounds so simple, but this is what I am now doing. I’m embracing the process. I’m reminding myself of how much I enjoy what I do, regardless of success or failure. And I’m also asking the ‘why’ question: Why am I doing this in the first place? This is leading me to tease out in greater detail my motivations, or in Christian terms, my sense of vocation and calling. I’m thankful for the time I have to do this, and I’m looking forward to the next month ahead to build upon what I’ve learnt in the previous two. On Monday, I begin a three-day retreat at a nearby Benedictine monastery, and there I intend to take time to fast and to pray and to offer to God, where I haven’t already or only done so in part, the lessons I am learning and shall continue to learn. Or should I say, the lessons He is teaching me?
There is, of course, much more that could be said. As a Christian, I suppose I am expected to say that I need not base my identity on my achievements, but rather on the steadfast and unfailing love of the Father. Indeed, I believe that to be true. But if I wasn’t honest, if I hid my psychological struggles from both myself and others behind truths that are more easily said quickly and tritely than genuinely lived and experienced, then shame on me. Christianity is, dare I say, for realists and not idealists. I do believe that I am beloved, as indeed are you and is every person, but a true spirituality is one, I am coming to realise, that has its troughs as well as its peaks, and which deepens over time and through change. Faith is something you have to live your way into.
Thank you for reading this post. If you liked it, please do share it with your friends and family. The Coffeehouse Cleric is a weekly blog on spirituality and simple living by Alex Rowe.
