When I was in my late-twenties I very often felt inadequate. I had travelled and accomplished a lot, but never lived up to inherited expectations of who I should be.
I realised one day that the people I admired most had done none of the things I felt I should’ve done. The expectations weren’t mine, and I learned to let them go.
In my forties I’ve spent a lot of time feeling frustrated about how little I feel I have. I’m responsible for some of the choices that feed into that though. And, having worked with abject poverty abroad, I recognise that I’m actually very fortunate.
This weekend as I reflected on meeting a really interesting character, it struck me how the people I like most usually have odd back stories and aren’t materially wealthy. The expectation I have for myself is at odds with what I admire.
We don’t get it right once and that’s it settled. The mind benefits from regular guidance towards clarity and consistency.