How do you spell S U C C E S S?

I have a wise and wonderful friend (actually I have more than one) who asked me some really hard questions a couple of weeks ago.  They were as follows:

1. Do you gain a sense of accomplishment/identity from Skye's (my daughter) achievements?
2. Do you lover her whether or not she achieves or succeeds?
3. Is your identity derived from your accomplishments?
4. If all of your success and accomplishments were stripped away would you still accept and love yourself?

Those of you who are smarter than I am will see from question one what my friend was driving at, but it took me an hour of discussion and a week of contemplation to come to the AH HA moment she intended.

At first I felt a little defensive. Of course I do not define myself through my child's success. I know parents who do. Too many of them.(You know them too. The only topic of conversation they have is their kids and nothing happens in their house from the first poo in the potty to the last race ribbon won that doesn't merit a braggy Facebook post, Instagram photo, or phone calls to anyone who might listen) Truly, I take no credit for the wonderful kid who happened to be lent to me by the gracious universe. She has been her own creation from the first breath. I am honored to be along for the ride, and if she wants her successes broadcast to the four corners, she isn't waiting for me to do it. My friend knows this about me. She knows that my love for my kiddo is unconditional. If gets an A or an F, my reaction is the same. If she is first chair or last in band, matters not a whit. If she wins or loses a race, whatev! She is always my awesome Skye and I couldn't love her more or less.

Follow me now; this where the whole thing got hairy for me. I got to question 3 and said, "Huh? Of course, Yes! I am a writer not because I write, but because my scribblings have been selected by random publications and individuals to be read. If I had never been published, I would not call myself a writer. My degrees - four - count them make me an academic. My awards not my experiences in theatre as a writer, actor, and director make me a thespian. What a stupid question? My accomplishments make me who I am. Right?"

Question 4 hit me like a ton of bricks right in the middle of my chest. The honest answer is NO. Sadly in capital letters. I mourned for my shallowness and lack of personhood for 3 days. Then I woke up in the shower one morning and asked, "WHY?" The answer is simple and shallower than my own personal pity puddle. My parents (my mother really) only noticed my sibs and I when we achieved something. We were and are constantly pitted against each other in an unspoken race for maternal recognition based on the number of letters following our names and our spouses', the number of zeros in our paychecks and savings accounts, the numbers appearing on the scale in the bathroom. It's sick and sad.

So success this year will be spelled out not in book sales but in how much I love myself with or without a place on some arbitrary list. I will love myself the way I love my characters with all their flaws and foibles. I will (as my wise friend Susan Jarvis wanted me to) find a way to define myself more deeply and meaningfully and afford myself the same generosity that I afford my child without question. I love you, Susan, for loving me enough to want that for me!