Rethinking Traditional Success Part 4

I wake up in the mornings and genuinely love my life. Everything about it. Every single day. I have moments daily where I stop and realize I have everything I’ve ever wanted. Don’t get the wrong idea, that doesn’t mean that I don’t have hard days or that everything’s easy. I’m not writing this from atop a pile of gold coins like Scrooge McDuck. I am not someone who’s had an easy life where everything was handed to me. I’m just a “normal” person like you. Yet I still feel this way despite the fact that I’m not where I want to be yet. Despite the fact that I have not had an easy road in my life. I have dealt with unimaginable tragedy and heartbreak. I have been broke, and I have had money. I have been suicidal, and I have comforted those who are. I have had everything, and I have had nothing. I have seen the lowest lows and the highest highs.

In 2017, not terribly long after going through a divorce myself while simultaneously consoling my brother as he was going through his own, we lost our father to suicide. It was devastating to say the least and was made even more complicated by the fact that like many 20-something men I did not always see eye to eye with my Dad. We had different ideas about life and how to live it, or what was the right path in the long-term. There is one lesson, however, that I learned from my Dad that I now consider the cornerstone of my identity.

My Dad, for better or for worse, was a man who knew what he was about. A devout Christian, he had the boldness to stand up for what he believed no matter what, when, or who he was with. I am not going to talk about religion here, nor do I have the most straightforward relationship with my faith these days, but the point I’m trying to make is this: there was never even one solitary moment that I saw my father sway from what he believed in. Not. Once. He was genuine about it too, this was not an act I promise you, it was what he really believed and he would not compromise on it. It was this radical, unwavering authenticity and ability to be true to himself that he taught me through example. Though Dad eventually was overcome by his mental illness, among several other factors, what I will remember the most and pass on to my own children one day is how he knew what kind of life he wanted to live and made no compromises when it came to living it.

You may be wondering why I decided to tell you the story of my father’s suicide right as I start talking about practicing happiness. What I want to impress upon you is the idea that things don’t need to be perfect, or even good for you to practice happiness and lead a fulfilling life. True happiness comes from a place of radical authenticity, and I never would have experienced that without the lessons I learned from my Dad. He was able to practice happiness for a very long time, despite the challenges he faced in his life.

If you’ve never thought about this, it might seem far-fetched or silly. There’s a very good chance you think I’m wrong, you could be wondering what the heck I’m talking about right now! It might seem like a hard fact that you have no choice but to take the first option life gives you and deal with it, because that’s what you’ve always done. Well, how’s that been working out for you so far?

Once you decide to have a difficult conversation with yourself about the choices you’ve made and the options you have, you’ve taken the first step which is finally being honest with yourself. When you start being honest with yourself about your values, your hopes and dreams, you realize that the true measure of a successful life should be how happy you are with it. It should not be measured against someone else’s standards, or how well you completed a checklist of what society thinks is the best path in life. It is only through this self-honesty, self-acceptance, and radical authenticity that you can finally start to listen to yourself. Suddenly you stop caring about what everyone else thinks is right, and you realize what’s more important is finding what’s right for you.

Thanks as always for reading,

Aaron Frank