“I’ve found beauty in the whimsically ordinary.” ~Elissa Gregoire

The pervasive message of our time asserts that success is essential in every facet of life, be it education, career, friendships, or relationships. In the relentless pursuit of success, many of us toil ceaselessly, ingrained with the belief that triumph is the gateway to happiness.

Rewind three decades to when I was ten, and the emphasis was on excelling in school. Family, teachers, and even movies emphasized the narrative that good grades equated to happiness.

The equation was simple: good grades led to a good job, financial stability, a great partner, and happiness. I clung to this formula, except for a temporarily rebellious phase in college when momentary fun felt more important than grades. Soon enough, I recalibrated my focus.

Reflecting back, I wish I could have advised my younger self that straight A’s don’t guarantee success or an immediate stellar job but, more importantly, a content life.

I don’t harbor regrets about discovering this later; however, I would have spared myself unnecessary stress over a single B-, thinking it signaled the demise of my promising future.

I secured a decent job as a social worker in my professional life. While the financial rewards were modest, I was helping people, which I always wanted to do.

I gained happiness from helping people, as evidenced by glowing yearly evaluations from my supervisors. Yet, the reality of working with adults grappling with mental health and substance abuse issues challenged the conventional markers of success. The transformation I envisioned for my clients didn’t materialize on a broad scale. Only two clients graduated from high schools and found jobs in my three years, a relatively meager success rate by my grading standards.

Following my brief period as a social worker, I delved into my passion for writing. This endeavor proved to be one of the most disheartening professional experiences. Rejections outnumbered any I had faced previously.

Despite the setbacks, I stayed resilient, recognizing that success in writing often hinges on probability and luck. I am determined not to abandon my pursuit of writing because I feel confident that perseverance will eventually tilt the odds in my favor. It is just a matter of time.

While higher-ups may have expressed dissatisfaction, getting published drew praise. The dichotomy of rejection versus acceptance raises the question of whether one success outweighs numerous failures. Does public recognition invalidate personal setbacks?

Friendships thrived until my late thirties, but they underwent a shift when I moved to Indiana. Prior successes in maintaining a diverse group of friends diminished, leaving me with acquaintances but no deep connections I craved. Whether due to the pandemic, my age, or the location, I encountered my first failure in forming meaningful friendships.

Looking at all spheres of my life, I’ve walked a path of moderate success.

I’ve hovered between not excelling and not faltering massively, settling into a comfortable averageness. The pressure to outperform those around me is always present, but I’ve realized the futility of never-ending comparison. Striving for greatness is admirable but invites overwhelming stress and overwork.

Being okay with being average doesn’t mean I’m lazy or have no goals. I know some people will always be better than me, and some will be less skilled. But trying to be the best doesn’t have to mean I’m always stressed.

Ultimately, my journey has been one of navigating the middle ground and avoiding extremes. I haven’t soared to great heights, but I’ve found contentment in averageness. Whether it’s education, career, friendships, or writing, pursuing excellence should coexist with accepting personal authenticity and avoiding the trap of incessant comparison and overbearing expectations.

Contrary to societal conditioning, being average isn’t undesirable. The happiest people often live everyday lives, enjoying time with family and friends without constantly chasing fame or fortune.

Choosing a simpler life instead of constantly competing has made me much happier.

There’s something extraordinary about just being ordinary and having peace of mind. But it seems like everyone’s always pushing for “more.” Why, when true happiness comes from appreciating what we have and ignoring the pressure to always strive for something bigger?

Is there ever a conclusion to the ceaseless pursuit of outperforming others? I don’t think so.

After four decades, I’ve become content with who I am and where I stand. No longer entangled in the web of comparison or the pursuit of outdoing others, I find joy in simply existing where I am.

I used to feel like I had to be better than everyone else, but that pressure is gone now. I’m much more relaxed and at peace, something I never felt when constantly trying to be the best. I’m happy with where I am now, and I’m enjoying learning about things that interest me. I love this new feeling of calm and am grateful for the experiences that helped me finally accept myself. I am finally at a place of genuine self-acceptance.