I have bouts of razor-sharp envy, followed by periods of crippling anxiety.
But it's not where I spend most of my time.
Sucks when it happens, but it always passes. Especially when I get back to work.
I am most proud not of what I've "accomplished," but that I've done what I set out to do.
I wanted to get a book (underline "A," as in one) published "somewhere." I did that. The publisher, the reviews, the copies sold...didn't care. Just wanted to see that book on a shelf. I did it. That's the part I keep.
The only metric I try to use is my own. We're all a lot happier when we do that.
It doesn't always work. There are really, really hard days when I look around and think, "Why can't I have THAT?" (Whatever "that" happens to be.)
When really the question is, "Why can't I have that . . . TOO?" Like, bro....check your scoreboard, you're up by a trillion and there are no competitors.
I want to tell stories until I cannot. And then I hope those stories get into hands and in front of eyes that need or want them.
That's my metric.
What's yours?
May you be happy, may you be well, may you be safe, and may you be peaceful and at ease.
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