Awards are bullshit

Hi hi hi! If you read nothing else in this Brightside - at least let me be the one to tell you that Daylight Saving's Time happens this weekend.

What I'm really here to talk about though is my recent trip to Culver. Last week I went back to my high school to speak at their annual Women's Celebration. The theme was lifting others - a topic I was honored to be invited to speak about.

Because this theme feels pretty inherent to my brightisiding philosophy - and because I'm a serial procrastinator - I put off content prep for just a little too long. By the time the weekend before the talk rolled around I realized what a complex topic this is - had a small panic attack - then rolled my sleeves up and got to work. I called friends, whiteboarded like a mad scientist, and ultimately landed on a framework that I dubbed "the cycle of lifting" - a cycle that I believe we're participating in always, whether we're conscious of it or not.

Today's B-Side is more of a reflection than a deep dive on my content, but if you're interested in hearing more, please reach out! I'd love to come facilitate a session for your team or company.

But for now ... let me tell you a story.

Here goes…

I never considered myself particularly ambitious, but I do think I left high school with a small chip on my shoulder that turned into some "ok, watch this" energy. Maybe not quite intense as that scene from The Bear, but not totally different either.

Allow me to elaborate. Just before graduation my senior year, there was an awards ceremony to honor the top students in my class.

I was an extremely involved student - a coxswain on the crew team, a member of the Equestrian team, held positions in our leadership program, I had a coveted spot on the campus activities board, I even tried swim team for a year - you name it, I had my hand in it.

But involved as I was, I wasn’t winning any awards.

In my current season of life, I subscribe to the Ron Swanson school of thought when it comes to accolades - your work should speak for itself. Being recognized is cool, but it’s not the point.

But at age 18, a high school senior sitting in our school’s large auditorium, I genuinely felt that because I wasn’t being recognized with an award, I wasn’t achieving. I believed that that awards ceremony sealed the fate of my class - that the brightest thing that laid ahead of me was flexing a degree of separation from my award-winning peers.

Seriously, I remember sitting through that program, imagining a far-off future where the boy that was winning “student of the year” or whatever was being sworn in as like, the youngest congressmen - and saying to a coworker or friend, “I went to high school with him, you know”.

If you’re cringing right now, same. First of all - what a sad daydream. Second of all, I couldn't have at least conjured up a female success story? I digress.

This is all to say that when I was asked to go back to my high school and speak at their annual Women’s Celebration in February, held in the same auditorium as that awards ceremony ten years ago, it was a really poignant moment.

They wanted me to come back and speak. About Brightsiding.

The experience of returning to that auditorium with a message to share made me realize that it’s not the awards or accolades that matter at all - it’s work ethic and commitment to one’s self.

Ten years later, I don’t even remember what awards were doled out that day - or who won them - or what those kids went on to do. I’m sure they’re doing great things, but so am I. It honestly makes me sad to reflect on how much more of an emphasis I put on the imagined success of others, instead of daydreaming about the twists and turns and milestones my own future had in store.

I didn’t win any awards in high school, but I tried just about everything there was to try. That voracious appetite for experience - and my willingness to try and fail and try again followed me into college and beyond. And it’s that drive, that willingness to try, that’s led me here - writing my 62nd Brightside and pressing send.

Having The Brightside lead me back to the exact place I once sat, unable to imagine the huge bright future that was in front of me felt like a cheeky wink from the universe to keep doing my thing. It felt pretty cool to return to that auditorium wise enough to know that this is just the beginning - and hopefully someone, someday will be able to flex that they went to high school with me.

If you’re still reading this, that’s award enough. I used to think that this would only be successful if it “popped off”. But 3 years into this little experiment I’m grateful to have reframed success … I now know that me being here, right now, writing, connecting with you - that’s success.

It took me a long time to become a good coxswain. I was an average equestrian at best - and in fact, I got replaced by an underclassmen in a major event my junior year. I was the slowest person on the swim team, which was humbling to say the least. I tried speech for a minute, quickly realized it wasn’t for me and quit. The leadership position I was assigned felt like a consolation prize - “spiritual life chair”. But I showed up to those things and did my fucking best - a personal ethos that followed me into my adult life. And here I am today, ten years later, really really proud of the life I’m living.

At 28, I can’t wait to see where the next 10 years take me. I can’t know what’s in store, but this time I know better than to daydream about someone else's success instead of my own.

Sending everyone love heading into the weekend.

Spring fever has me like whoa.