Successful people look tired. Well not so much tired as downright frazzled.  It takes them a moment or two to remember the dog’s name, let alone their children’s ages.  You ask them how they are and they rattle off in a dazed stupor – “Busy… wow… you know – really, really busy.” Whatever happened to “Fine… thanks for asking. How ‘bout you?”

The successful people are the ones who pace at the airport or local Starbucks hooked up to their iPads, iPods and iPhones selling, delegating, or pleading. They usually have the latest Wall Street Journal, Business Week or daily financials downloaded or in tow lest they risk the possibility of missing every global business hiccup, cough or cold.

The successful ones show up to family gatherings not to reminisce about warm summer days filled with swimming, sun and watermelon as much as to talk up the latest projects, ventures and IP related endeavors underway (though of course they can’t say too much because it is intellectual property after all). They miss most of their children’s soccer practices and have a terrible deadline that must be met which of course precludes them from going to the spring concert in which seven year old Samantha will be singing her rendition of “We Are Family” sung in true Sister Sledge style.

Successful people have opinions on politics, all of which are appropriately accompanied by a fair amount of head shaking and tongue clicking.  And yet, they don’t seem to have the time to write their congressman or get to the polls to vote in the minor elections.  They attend church (on occasion) and use the quiet time of the Pastor’s sermon to make notes about what needs to happen in the office on Monday.  The Community outreach program asking for volunteers to clean up the landscaping for the local hospice is loudly applauded by the successful person, but of course, he or she couldn’t possibly make it that weekend to help out, because of the oh so big and highly important project they are overseeing.

I can pass along these somewhat disparaging comments on the ramifications of success, because I have just discovered that I too am one of the walking success zombies.  I guess I’m successful.  People tell me that I am. I run a small business. We found a way to keep the lights on and the doors open in spite of the staggering recession.  I’m married to a great man and know my children’s ages (all of them… well within a year or two anyway). I have the requisite initials behind my name espousing a teeny bit of academic coolness.  I have an IRA, have had an MRI and am currently on HRT.  For a short period of time in my mid 40’s, I wore a size 6. And if all goes well, I’ll only miss my six month dental cleaning by eleven months. I attend church and have a somewhat recent historical reference of volunteering in the community. And yet, I have to say that I don’t feel successful as much as just plain worn out. 

In fact, I’m so successful that I’m rarely moved by achievement or accomplishment anymore.  Not so long ago, one of my new year’s resolutions was “Strive for mediocrity because brilliance doesn’t pay off”.   I need a new definition of success. One thing I know for sure is that life is really short and very fragile.  A while ago, one of our participant’s in a leadership program my company conducted was tragically killed in a car accident.  Her name was Eileen Jarvis and I was one of the consumers of her last days on earth. I think much on that now. Was I respectful of those final moments?  Did I look at her as though she were just another student in a long line of courses I taught or did I see her for who she was – a woman with stories to tell and a life full of adventure? What did I know about her? What did she learn (if anything) from me?  She and I talked about leadership in the guise of living life bigly.  The kind of bigly where you know what you believe in and why giving careful examination and thought to the kind of person you want to be known as and realizing that there are people watching your life and taking their cues from you on how they should lead theirs.  I wonder what Eileen concluded from our conversations and what she was thinking about just a couple of days later when she was driving down that stretch of highway.  Mostly though, I wonder why I’m not more mindful of my own teachings on the topic.  I fear I’ve forgotten to practice what I’ve been preaching.

I’ve come to a point where I would like to survive success.  Really survive it.  I would like to do more than tick off the boxes at the end of a long work week, in which all of my obligations were met and projects were found to be triumphal. I would like to have different achievements.  One of them will be to go swimming this coming summer with my children and lounge on the side of the pool soaking in the warmth of the sun while we tell silly jokes to one another.  And others, well… I want to eat watermelon from our garden, not just pop Jolly Rancher watermelon flavored candies in my mouth while I sit in traffic. I want to sit quietly with my husband and watch the sunset, telling him how much he’s my hero, my knight in shining armor. I want to rock my little grandson until he falls asleep.  The hospice is on my list with a scribbled note to take some home made oatmeal cookies for the staff and those patients who can still eat.  Minding my P’s and Q’s much less in public and instead speaking courageously with candor and respect is a fine art I’m determined to master.  And, my pastor will be pleased to know that I expect to listen to the sermon next time in Church and give thanks for the many wonderful blessings that have come my way.

One of my sons has made it a habit to tell me when parting “Make good choices Mom.”  I laugh knowing he’s poking fun at all the motherly speeches launched at him over the years. Still, he makes a good point.  Surviving success is a choice.  Coming up with a better definition is another one.  I realize I’m not likely to be featured in any of the business periodicals or be invited as a guest speaker on famous talk shows for singing lullabies, laughing with my family or eating watermelon.  I will, however, be remembered by those who matter most to me for choosing to live my life more bigly.  And I’m okay with that.  Yep.  I’m very much okay with that.