More Unsolicited Advice

I'm delving back into my mini-career as a fledgling self-help guru to continue my thoughts from a recent post.  I spent that post writing about legacies and how we always seem to be distracted by events that affect us in the immediate present, rather than looking at the whole quest we've undertaken across a varied life (which is ironic, because we're otherwise fixated on past events).

In this post, I want to talk about who gets to define that legacy.  I finished the previous post with a cheerful discussion on obituaries - namely, that obituaries don't dwell on the painful details of your last days, but celebrate the whole of your life and its accomplishments.

But this opens up another matter entirely - your obituary is a legacy completely defined by someone else.  How do you ensure that you live a fulfilling life that has a net positive impact on others, so that you (a) have an obituary and (b) have an obituary that doesn't curse your time on this earth?

After some thought on the subject, my answer is "you can't."  That response may sound cynical or despondent at the outset, but stick with me.  I ultimately found the answer liberating.

When I was in my early 20s, I found a need to impact the world at large (no need to concern myself with mere local stardom).  It's not an uncommon feeling at this age, and I believe it stems in part from the newfound freedom many of us gain around that time as we emerge into official adulthood.  We've spent so many years under well-constructed supervision and, often, in de facto training for the 'real' part of our lives.  Once we've made it to the other side, it seems natural to ask, "What's next?"  Particularly because theory and practice immediately diverge in the harshest of terms.

In my case, I predominantly wanted to be an author writing The Great American Novel (or, preferably, several).  I thought (very humbly, of course) that this was the means of scratching my intellectual and creative itch while imparting a meaningful contribution to humanity without demanding that I needed to be the most famous person on the planet (though top 100 would've been nice).  In my fantasies, I was certain that I would handle any resulting fame with aplomb, and it wouldn't have any impact on my output.  My subsequent novels would still impart universal truths via a sympathetic, clear voice even while I was soaring over the Atlantic in my private jet on the way to my Italian villa.

Alas, I never achieved that goal (though I did write a serialized novel essentially as a dare to myself.  If you're so inclined, you can see the post that kicked it all off here.  The chapters follow the post.  I'm proud of the fact that I completed it.  I can't speak to its power to bridge the great literary divide, however).

Once I landed on the far shore away from Greatness, I reevaluated my goals.  I'd aged a few years, so the need to make an imprint before I died young like John Keats had lost some of its urgency.  

So, I focused more on making an imprint in a familiar realm - among my family, friends, and career.  I reasoned, as most of us eventually do, that a life well-lived among people who care for us is equally as important as elusive fame was for us in early adulthood.

I think it's a good path to follow, but be careful when deriving your self worth from your interactions with others.

First, there's your career.  As I mentioned in my last post, I'd readily expected to stay at Orbitz until I retired or they fired me.  I'd grown naive to the casual whims of capitalism and the fact that the company could simply be bought and its culture subsumed.

Luckily, the skills I'd acquired could be transferred to our new corporate parent (or elsewhere) so I wasn't completely knocked off base, but that was one peg in my foundation that had now come loose.

Then there are your family and friends.  These are people whom you should rely on.  We're humans.  We're social creatures!  No man is an island, and so on.  And bucking this perspective can be detrimental to our health, because we do poorly in isolation.

But an over-reliance on any one person or group of people faces its own risks.  I've lost touch with people I've cherished for various reasons - some move away; some simply stopped talking to me for reasons I could never guess; some stopped talking to me for valid reasons I could pinpoint; and, frequently, life's slings and arrows just came in between us and we drifted apart.  If I stopped to think about all the reasons these relationships fell apart, I'd go insane.  Self-reflection is important, but spend too much time ruminating on details and you'll find the abyss behind the mirror staring back at you, doubling down on toxic positivity.

And then, there's just the inevitable gap between any two people.  We can't know ourselves entirely, so it's exponentially harder to know - or please - someone else consistently.  I faced situations where people I thought were good friends told me after several years that they didn't care for me.  It's possible that I was simply clueless to the signs, but I don't think that's the case.  I think some of those people had simply masked their own dislike of me for their own reasons.  Others had a change of heart about their feelings toward me and decided a particular moment was the time to inform me when I'd reached their last nerve.  Predictably, these events caused me great distress, but there was little I could do about it after the fact.

If this all sounds depressing, I don't intend it to.  I'm trying to demonstrate that we all have the capability for resiliency. 

[I should stop briefly and acknowledge that I'm speaking solely about interactions within my social sphere.  I recognize that millions, if not billions, of people face struggles that I'll never to face.  I'm assuming that the readers of my blog have similar enough life experiences that writing this post will echo events in your past.  My intention is not to trivialize others' experiences or provide dubious help via a self-help mantra that states doing this 'one thing' will provide you with bliss.  These are simply my own observations and my attempt to cope with all of the heartache life throws our way.  If it provides anyone comfort, even temporarily, then it's worth the spilled virtual ink.]

I have a few friends that I still keep in touch with several decades later, so not every relationship is ephemeral, and I'm happy with my social circle now.  And, if you'll remember, the point of my last post was that - however ephemeral these relationships may be or however forgotten we may be in the eyes of those we still hold dear - the relationship we cultivated at the time and the memories that still linger contain value for us, even if the current circumstances don't match the past.  What we felt, and what we gained from the relationship, was valid in the moment it occurred.

I spent an entire post in Debbie Downer-land talking about failed relationships and expectations, so, like any good showman, I'll wait until the next post for The Grand Reveal.  I'll warn you that it'll probably be a lot like Dexter, How I Met Your Mother, or Game of Thrones (Really?  That's it? Huh.), but who knows?  That's why we spend hour after uncomfortable hour writing the blog, folks.

Until next time, my human and robot friends.