Success is the best revenge

So it is said. But we all have different ideas of what consititues success. For some, it might be having millions of dollars. For others, success might simply be general happiness or good health. For many, it’s some combination of the three. For my cat, I think it’s probably an unreasonable number of drink bottle caps stashed under the fridge; there’s no other earthly reason for them to continue to amass there.

During my recent several-year hiatus from writing due to poor mental health, I managed – against all probability and potentially several laws of nature – to achieve a degree of what others seem to perceive as ‘success’. This improvement from being quite low on the societal totem pole has contributed to a new, if somewhat vague, sense of a right to exist. If one lacks general confidence in their right take up space in the world, ongoing external validation can be as essential to life as oxygen.

While it’s nice to breathe a little easier, it’s been complicated dealing with how other people behave towards me during this not unwelcome change to my trajectory. I’ve had everything from disbelief and dismissiveness to over-the-top kindness and congratulation, and none of it feels comfortable. None of it reflects how I feel I have improved over the years. Negative responses have undermined who I thought I had in my corner and positive responses seem focused on entirely the wrong things.

I’m yet to hear any praise for maintining my hygiene, making my bed, improving my nutrition or developing greater emotional independence and stability; things that felt six worlds away from achievable not that long ago. I am getting no public recognition for having washed hair (actually, I tell a lie here, I regularly get compliments on getting my hair done/cut/coloured when in fact I’ve merely washed it). No one is offering me a place on a discussion panel to talk about how I clean my room every day now and I certainly don’t get called an inspiration, or get commended on my leadership in consistently and proactively managing my mental health. Rude.

That’s not to say I’m not receiving recognition – it’s an uncomfortably regular occurrence now for me to have another person saying nice things at me while I my brain works furiously to determine the right amount I should smile and how long I have to maintain it before I am allowed to stop. Too big a smile and I might look proud or egotistical, but too small and I seem dismissive or unappreciative of their pointed and unsought after attention. The experience might be, I imagine, somewhat like encountering a primate in the wild and not being able to recall which species see smiling as a threat. Paradoxically, while validation is my life blood, positive attention is also my kryptonite. The very fine line between validation and praise, where I find existence bearable, is only perceptible by many-coned eyes of the mantis shrimp.

My difficulty with accepting positive comments about having things like a ‘better’ job, earning more money, a newer car or a home that has hot water which runs consistently (finally!) is reflective of my overall difficulty with accepting I have anything more than a laughably insignificant influence over those outcomes. Luck and the MUEs are at play more often than not and I’m the poorly designed NPC playing out the code they write. What’s interesting is how society as a whole treats you based on the roll of Chance’s dice, or a sideways glance from Chaos.

An act of benevolence, or pity, or plain boredom from Chance in the form of an offer for a short-term job was the catalyst for this shift in my life. A dream job that I had recently been told by someone in the sector I would be unlikely to ever get into. I jumped at the opportunity (after arranging for unpaid leave from my existing job) and it all went from there. When that short-term role was over, I was encouraged to apply for other positions at the organisation. When I gave notice at my old job, my manager mentioned he’d been worried that the short-term role would end up with me moving on. He essentially signalled that while he saw my capability and potential and hadn’t done anything to support my career progression, he wasn’t stoked that someone else was willing to. The employer version of licking the top of a muffin you don’t want but also don’t want anyone else to take.

Well more fool him, because now I’m working more than twice the hours each week and am a great candidate for stroking out at my desk one morning, while also paying more tax and having to travel two hours more each way to get to the office. Seriously though, I’m getting to do work that I never dreamed I would, my work is trusted and my skills sought out by colleagues. I’ve risen through the ranks at a respectable rate and in the process am now earning enough money to fund an existence in which I don’t need to worry about having enough money for medication or fuel for the car. For me, its living the dream. Actually no, it feels like waking up from a long period of being only half awake and just living again. Finally, after over a decade of struggling with trauma, health issues, mental health issues, disability, grief, poverty and general inertia, I feel like I’ve been able to pull the brake lever on the out-of-control trolley car I’ve been trapped in. Things are by no means easy and likely never will be (nor do I need them to be), but I feel more in control and capable.

But of course, that is where the danger lies, isnt it? Because I’ve taken great pains to explain how much we are all at the mercy of Luck in the form of the MUEs. Getting that first job offer that kicked things off was nothing to do with me. I had applied for many jobs there many, many times and never received a response, let alone the courtesy of a rejection. I never got to see a crack of light in the door through which to thrust a foot until the offer fell in my lap out of nowhere. I didn’t do anything different to get that opportunity. There was no reason for me to go from not being a good candidate for those jobs one day to being offered one I didn’t apply for the next. It was luck.

If it wasn’t bad form to refuse kind words from others about ‘how far Ive come’ or ‘how much I’ve achieved’ or how ‘proud they are’ of me, I’d set people straight about my actual contribution to my current circumstances. Worse still is hearing from people that say I deserve this ‘success’. Why is that? Who gets to say who deserves what and by what measure? In saying someone deserves a good outcome, aren’t we also then supporting the idea that life is fair and rewards people? Does it also then punish the unworthy? Does that mean that until things started to turn around for me I just wasn’t deserving enough?

Either way, I’m still not comfortable referring to my recent progress as success, but if I was to call it that, I’m also a bit miffed that I don’t get to use it as revenge against anyone. Whose nose can I rub these so-called achievements in? Don’t misunderstand me, I have been wronged in my time! I’ve been belittled and dismissed and insulted and underestimated and scorned and rejected like a DEI hire at the White House. Maybe so much so that no highlights stand out and the constant stream of it just faded into background noise. Nevertheless, here I am, with people around me expressing varying levels of admiration and satisfaction at the turns my life has taken. I have no choice but to keep fake-smiling through nice words and being mindful that good, bad or otherwise, this is all just a numbers game.

And now for something completely different…

Today out of sheer boredom I watched a movie I’d had on my list for a while, but never got around to, Baby Driver. Its easy to see why it received acclaim; its music and sound effect composition alone is a pretty stellar effort in my very uninformed opinion. Mostly, I found that something combining my three top loves of cinema, cars and music is a pretty unbeatable combination. The stunt driving before the opening title had me grinning like a lunatic. There is just something about the fluid movement of a grunting car with screeching tyres that makes me very happy. I was looking forward to adding some new tracks to my spotify throughout the movie, but it was not to be. The music choice was was the kind that hipsters claim to enjoy listening to on their gramophone shaped digital music players.

There was an opportunity to chuck in some great contemporary music. Anything with a bit of a beat and a bit of grunt would have had me spellbound. Kaleo, Danzig, Hilltop Hoods, GnR, Myles Kennedy, Metallica, Muse, Tempter Trap, just to name a few (and having a classical music background, I am even open to some Mortzart or Beethoven). For a movie that centres a lot around music (among other things), the selection was about as deep and unpredictable as learning to sing your ABCs in the first year of school. Obviously with music, as with cinema, you cant please everyone, and the makers of this movie clearly had one demographic in mind and I wasnt in it, due to my lack of aforementioned grammaphone shaped iphone speaker. Although in fairness, I have been known to dress ironically (not always on purpose), not wash my hair (not always on purpose) and buy ridiculous crap that I just didnt need (usually on purpose). Its my lack of pretence that precludes me from the group, I think, although maybe using terms pretence IS pretentious…I can only guess.

An attempt to lift the sophistication level with some random, loose choreography came off as more delusional than visionary, although maybe that was the intention? To avoid any chance of overdoing the ‘sophistication’ Baby has a southern drawl. Of course we, the audience, must now consider him some kind of musical, driving idiot-savant! But maybe that all added to the slightly fantastical feel of the movie which included exaggerated lilts, expressions and styling. Im ok with that, have definitely enjoyed my fill of comic book franchise movies to appreciate strongly stylised characters.

Speaking of stylised characters, the uncomfortable appearance of Kevin Spacey was difficult to overlook and watching him calling a (very) young man Baby hit every sour note that exists on an out of tune piano strung with dried citrus pulp. The martyrdom of his character was the only satisfying part of his role and in my opinion came about 55 minutes too late in the movie.

The overused insertion of innocent, disadvantaged doormat love interest has surely had its day? What more does that role have to offer the world? At this point a doe-eyed barely pubescent young woman has done all the caring, waiting and pining that can be done. At which point do we arrive at a new type of love interest? One that isnt simply a token character, subplot, or submissive drip waiting to be ‘saved’ from her own life. I want a typically developed woman who dresses for comfort and who can out stunt drive the stunt driver, all the while giving the finger to the supposed ‘good guy’ and leaving him in the dust.

I notice that even in our somewhat progressive cinematic landscape, when a woman is a lead character and sometimes even a lead action character, you never seem to see submissive, meek male love interests. If it ever is done, I am sure it would be to comedic effect, as it is impossible for a strong woman character to appeal to the masses if that same character had any serious power over a partner, such as we often see with male leads. But I digress, Its just a bit of a stick in my craw that the world is still celebrating tokenism above true equality.

One thing that spoke to me in this movie though, beyond the driving – and I can tell you the idea of being able to drive like that is the stuff of my dreams – was the lead’s desperate efforts to on to the few connections he had with his deceased mother. Eating every day at the same place she worked, holding the recorded sound of her voice as his most prized possession. In a movie about all of the things that light a spark in me, my breath caught for a nanosecond when the character heard his mum’s voice. Its been five years since my mother died (suddenly and traumatically) and eleven since my husband was killed (even more suddenly and traumatically) and the one thing that can still bring a tear to my eye is feeling like the world is still full of their sounds and I have just lost them in static. It always feels like the moment just after someone speaks and a pregnant pause resounds with the dying soundwaves of their voices. To me, that is grief. That split second between sound and no sound.

Gratitude for what?

You know these people. The ones who write gratitude diaries. Publicly. So everyone else can see how deserving and just generally better they are than everyone else. I’m pretty sure there might be a demographic that applies to this kind of gratitude. Most often, these grateful people are well off, well educated and well in both the physical and mental senses. I guess they do have a lot to be grateful for. But something does bug me when I see a photo posted of some unattainable yoga pose in front of a sunset scrawled with glittering words about being grateful for their GHD hair straightener lasting five years (that is not a made up example, I promise you).

My problem is, what exactly are they grateful for? Beyond the hair straightener, people seem grateful for things like being able to afford a luxury holiday, being able to send their kids to private schools, being able to afford three investment properties which they will eventually give to their children to give them a ‘leg up’ in the world (because, growing up in privilege apparently doesnt already do that). None of them seem to be grateful for being able to learn in a way that made education easy for them, increasing their likelihood of later success. You dont see posts of gratitude for hard work being rewarded (because contrary to popular belief this isnt a guaranteed outcome of putting in the hard yards) or for a good outcome being the result of significant effort and consideration. Why is success considered a natural and expected result of effort? Chance an Chaos are getting a raw deal in the recognition department here I think.

Then you get the absurdists who like to express their gratitude by thanking the Lord for their freedom/righteousness/bigotry/ignorance. The ones who post on social media about being grateful they dont live in a war-torn country, but seem to believe this is the result of some kind of superiority of their existence rather than Chance and Chaos rolling the most complex multi-sided DnD dice to select geography, political climate and gender for a start. Not to mention how much damage our privileged countries wreak in the developing world, taking advantage of political and social instability to maintain the status quo while capitalising on the opportunity to feed consumer greed without being compelled to comply with pesky human rights and environmental protections.

The opposite side of the coin, the ones who post FML about GHD’s dying (again, not made up and different people – I may be missing out on some kind of revolutionary life experience by not owning one), rain on the day of an outdoor activity and dropping their plate of food are just as inane. Nothing like a bit of narcissism to put disadvantaged people in their place. A homeless person asking for money or for food/shelter? Well I cant give them a cent because my work Christmas bonus this year was a fricken food hamper! FML! The fact I had anticipated receiving a certain cash amount and already spent it based on that expectation is not my fault! What, did you expect me to wait until I actually had the funds to make my purchase? Dont be ridiculous! There are kids working sweatshops in war-torn countries that will die of starvation if I dont feed the machine of consumerism! Plus, my GHD just died, so I am having a really bad week and this homeless guy just hassled me….FML!!!

You may feel like I am picking on people who express gratitude for their lot and people who complain about their lot and no one can win. Maybe. Most people are pretty reasonable, I know. They live their lives knowing that at any given moment their circumstances could change drastically and without any perceivable cause. They dont tend to feel the need to publicly express gratitude or dismay for things that are often beyond their control. They may quietly curse poor Chance and Chaos for doing their thing, but accept that its Chance and Chaos’ jobs to keep us on our toes.

Today I am grateful for nothing. But I choose to accept everything. I choose to accept that life is so unpredictable that no matter how rubbish things might be, there is every possibility that could change in a split second. I accept that the big bang’s fallout included the accidental evolution of biological species to create curiosities like humans, dogs, cats and most of the other quadripeds (with the exception of koalas who are the most grumpy animals in existence – take them back, Universe). I accept my existence because when I do, I can then accept the good, the bad and the ugly (again, except for koalas, and sloths, they really freak me out). I have a starting point to work with, to experience all that our short, relatively pointless, but entirely magical lives have to give. I guess, in the end, I am grateful for Chance and Chaos, no matter how much of a hypocrite that makes me.

Luck is subjective

I mean, really, what is luck? Is there a standard definition? Is there an instrument for measuring luck? Is luck automatically good and hence when we talk about ‘bad’ luck we have to describe it as such? Is luck interchangeable with something else? I mean, I guess it is, how else would one explain religion? Its basically anthropomorphising luck, isnt it? Something good happened? That is God showing you he loves you. Something bad happened? That is God testing you. Nothing good nor bad happened? God helps those who help themselves. God works in mysterious ways. God gave us free will (in fairness that is also often used to explain bad luck, but oddly never good luck).

Aside from what luck actually is, how do you quantify it? The phrase “with a little bit of luck” is often used in situations which are much more serious than you would imagine a ‘little bit’ of luck could help with. At the other end of the spectrum, who hasnt seen a farewell card with “lotsa luck” scribbled across it (in a font that indicates no one seriously cares how much luck you have when you leave)?

And to the crux of the issue, where exactly in the general everyday business of existing does luck do its thing? If someone is stepping into traffic with a car hurtling along toward them, and luck intervenes to save them, does Lady Luck/God/Fate alter only the pedestrian’s trajectory, or the driver, or both? It seems unreasonable to use someone else’s luck to change the outcome for one person in a positive way while the other’s future is disregarded. I mean really, the only thing that would stop a car hitting an oblivious pedestrian would be if the car broke down before it got there or was hit by another car before it got there. Chuck, the ignorant street-crosser, might be ok, but Norm the innocent commuter now has a buggered car and is late for work! What if Norm then loses his job due to being late, and after a series ‘bad luck’ eventualities ends up homeless and dies of exposure? Thanks a lot, Chuck, or God, or Fate – someone has cocked up there! And let’s hope Chuck isnt a serial killer, saved by the universe to fulfil a future of inflicting carnage and horror. Luck seems somewhat short-sighted. Not a big picture thinker.

My point is this – in the 21st Century, it seems simplistic and foolish to still believe in such a thing as luck. I know it helps people avoid responsibility for their own actions, and that is something that will never go out of date, but I had hoped we had evolved beyond blaming influences beyond our control for the results of our own arrogance (I’m looking at you, climate change).

Chance and Chaos are my all powerful influences, alongside Resilience and Ethics. I find myself continually getting kicked in the teeth by Chance and Chaos. Chance seems to get to me when I am least expecting and Chaos likes to run in when I am down and put me in a choke hold. Resilience and Ethics hide in cupboard until the vibe is a bit calmer and its safe to return. Ethics is mostly a presence akin to the window dressing of a shopfront no one visits. Everyone always talks about wanting to go in, but just never seems to have the time. I have a love/hate relationship with Resilience. After all it’s the reason I can find a way to keep bouncing back after the onslaught of Chance and Chaos, but it is also the reasons Im standing again when I they inevitably track me down for another lesson about why I should never dare attempt to build self-confidence, or a glimmer of optimism, for that matter.

It really doesnt matter what you call it. We are probably all at the mercy of influences beyond our control. Existence is suffering, so it is said. So, does that mean I am on some plane of super-existence? Dont get me wrong, I have many things to be grateful for but Ive also had my fair share of ‘tests’, or ‘bad’ luck in some pretty significant ways.

So, just for tonight, Lady Luck, send me something special. Let me go to bed with hope for tomorrow and give Resilience some long service leave, before he quits and moves to the tropics. Let me praise my good fortune with a kind of frivolity I’ve forgotten how to feel. Let me remember what a good night’s sleep feels like. Do this and I will join the masses in variously lauding and blaming you for the events of my life. I dont think that will make me a better person, but I also dont think Chance and Chaos care much about that anyway.