Your Biggest Success is The People You Love

Measure your triumphs by the capacity of your heart

Photo by Joe Ciciarelli on Unsplash

I am so bloody lucky to love those that I love. I am so friggin’ fortunate that the universe crapped me into existence at the very same time as them, so I could live whilst they live. That’s my biggest achievement, you know: existing alongside the very loves of my life.

And another of my successes occurred not too long ago, when I received a message from but another person that I adore:

“So I was watching this writing class and the instructor said something along the lines of: ‘people always say that if you have talent and put in the work, it might not be enough. There’s a chance that you’ll still fail. There’s no guarantee as a writer.’ And then she called BULLSHIT to that advice. She was like ‘if you write enough, if you have talent, if you put yourself out there, you. Will. Succeed. Period.’ Even if it takes a while. And I’ve never felt so relieved? You know what that means? That at some point, Emily Wilcox, you will succeed.”

Just like that, my heart upgraded its storage space.

The kindness, the belief, the support was one thing (one chunky, crumb-coated, supersized great thing), but that in itself serves as a reminder that actually — I already had succeeded. Because I had people like her in my life, all of my family and friends and fellow snackers out there somewhere, and also right in here (you can’t tell, but I’m gesturing towards my heart right now), permanently and forever.

It’s in those supportive messages. In the borrowed fivers. In the ugly selfies and open shoulders. It’s in the movie streams and sharing of dreams (both ambition and messed up nightmarish ones). It’s in the hour long danceathons and drunken hunts for a bean burger. It’s in the 3am sobs down the phone. It’s in the matching tattoos and matching scars. It’s in the folded pyjamas and spare sanitary towels laid out. It’s in the veggie sausages served to you in bed. It’s in the castle sleepovers and fish bowls. It’s in the gaffa tape around your wrists. It’s in the deodorant cans and fake moustaches. It’s in the vandalised school shirts and pitchers of cherry Pepsi.

It’s in each of those moments — every damn one of them — that you realise exactly how successful you are. How successful you’ve always been. Because you are fortunate enough to be the CEO of your own heart, a heart towering taller than any office block could ever, a heart full not of employees but of lovers and friends and distant strangers ambling along the rooftop. Your heart is the home that you share with everybody you have ever cared for, and to have a roof over your rib-cage is the most notable thing you can do.

You are successful because you are loved.

So go share your successes — spread them far and wide and phenomenally. Like Itxy quoted above, “if you write enough, if you have enough talent, if you put yourself out there. You will succeed.”

Now let’s just tweak it a little: if you love enough, if you have enough love, if you put your love out there — you are succeeding.

Stick that bad boy on your CV.

Oh hey, whilst you’re here: why not put the “em” into your “emails” and lob your name onto my mailing list for weekly em-bellishments on my rose-tinted, crumb-coated lens of life. It’s the equivalent of the reduced section in the supermarket (low value Weird Crap™ that you didn’t know you needed).

I imagine in a parallel universe I might be a caricaturist or a botanist or somewhere asleep on the moon — but here, I am a writer.

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