I was going to title this “I’m a lazy no good failure” but decided that was a bit more self-abusive than I need to be. I read a lot and hear a lot about success and failure. The theme is usually something along the lines of success being tied to how much one works, how hard one works and how much money, in turn, one makes. I read a lot about focus and drive and motivation and purpose and competitive spirit. When I look at myself, I have none of those qualities and if measuring success in how much and hard one works and how much one makes, I am one big heap of a failure.

For the purposes of this post, I am going to say I don’t work. I know, I am a stay at home mom and I do actually work at that, but I don’t have a day to day job, I don’t work from home, I don’t have 85 additional streams of income in my life to prove myself worthy to the world. I just stay home with my kids. I make no money. I should, by all means, consider myself a failure. I don’t strive for much more than what I have today. I don’t long for millions of dollars in the bank. I don’t perpetually think my life will be fulfilled and better and happier if I just had more money, things, and status.

All assessments by our friends and family, hubby and I are underachievers and failures. Hubby has abouat 98% of a computer science degree and works on a golf course in maintenance. We don’t own businesses and we don’t have all sorts of income from ventures outside of that. Just his work and me at home.

I suppose I should feel like a failure for not fulfilling my life potential, for not wanting a 6 figure job, or for not keeping up with everything around me. I mean, so many people around us think that of us, so I guess we should think that too. How dare we actually feel content and happy? We should make more money, spend more hours at work, and in the end be miserable but have money – the definition of success.

I don’t do anything excellently. I am, in all I do, mediocre. I am a mediocre mom – I let my kids eat cookies and they don’t go to bed at the same time every night. I am a mediocre friend – I forget birthdays all the time because I am too lazy and scatterbrained to maintain a calendar. I am in mediocre health because I am too lazy to exercise everyday and I like candy. Even the things I really enjoy, I don’t excel at. I love writing but I’ll never be great at it. I ramble too much. I love decorating. Still mediocre. My home will never be in a magazine. My kids will get looked at sideways in stores. I will never be filthy rich.

I have found myself much more sentimental and emotional the past couple of months. I spend A LOT of time thinking about all the beautiful wonderful things around me and appreciating them. Somedays, though, I feel like I am living in an alternate universe. That I should be thinking more about accumulating wealth or spending my hours brainstorming ways to make money. Because I like money. I really like money. And sometimes that conflict paralyzes me. I enjoy what I am and what I have today and I almost feel like striving for more is being a traitor to my love of simplicity. Maybe I don’t trust myself that I can actually make more, do more, and still live simply. Maybe I am afraid of finding out that I do adore huge houses and new cars and spending money like it grows on trees. Having what we have today and not adding to that allows me to just stay cozy in my little minimalist, lazy, underachieving world.