How do you define success in life?

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I’ve had to do some work, here.

I grew up with a mother that thought I was successful no matter what I did, a Father that got real ephemeral with the subject, a grandmother that declared success in what made her only child (my mother) happy, and an everyone-else that seemed to define it as “go to school, get job, survive with little intervention.”

When my mom died and my dad got sick, the notion of success narrowed to that unobtainable point. I’m bipolar, AuDHD, traumatized. In theory, everyone supported me through this. Verbally, they’d attest that they did. All the best research was done & treatments sought. But in action, my failure to go to school, get job, and survive with little intervention ruled me, and in turn, ruled their opinions of me. 

Nvm the addict thing. Once I started problem-drinking, all bets were off. I defined myself as a fuck-up loser, incapable of even the bare minimum, and I’ve yet to fully recover in a lot of their eyes. In some I never will, either because they need me to be that for them or because it’s all too raw. 

That’s none of my business, though. I survive by the mantra that other peoples’ opinion of me is none of my fucking business. 

Six years into sobriety and a lot of therapy later, I’ve determined I’m actually pretty successful. No “all considered,” just flat out I’m pretty successful. 

I’ve written a trilogy and three stand-alones since getting sober. I’ve been raising two incredible children, each with their own struggles, and I’ve tried to define success for them in healthier ways than it was spelled out for me. I skipped college and went right to an MFA progam, where I’m standing with a 4.0 GPA, for shit’s sake. 

Why am I still a loser?

Spoilers: I’m not.

Anyway: if you feel like a loser this November, if you’re trying to write a novel in this holy month, here’s this for ya –