Success or Failure?

In the space of two years I have gone from owning a house, full of possessions, to being almost able to carry my life on my back. A few clothes, books and dvds are pretty much what I own.

Does this substantial decrease of material possessions challenge, alter, disrupt who I am? Am I any more or less Tom by what I own? Does owning a house and paying a mortgage define me as successful? Does moving back to my parents' house define me as a failure? Does getting married and building a life make me complete? Does getting divorced shred to pieces my wholeness?

It depends on your superficiality and snap judgements.

To the outside world, who don't see beyond the white, picket fence, my life would have appeared picturesque; a beautiful wife, fulfilling job and buying a lovely house.

Success.

Choosing to give that up must equal failure.

But, the sacrifice of the house and marriage has ensured something much more fulfilling: a maintaining of a friendship as opposed to a marriage which could have been a lie. The giving up of a job to ensure I always was known for my integrity and not dedication to how others perceived me.

To me, I am struggling with knowing that to have so little (materially) does not mean I am far from complete or successful. Actually, I couldn't give a shit about successful; I hate that word.

Success.

It's a word that spews from the mouths of pushy parents and self-righteous, money driven, fame obsessed chasers of nothingness.

Success.

It's a word that, if an object, would be the dried up saliva in the corner of your mouth or the stringy vomit after you've puked up.

I don't like the word because society has made it a word of pressure, a word of chasing distant dreams. Success should mean valued relationships, close friends, integrity of character, realised dreams.

So, I am not a success, I am not a failure; I am Tom who will strive to live his life to its fullest, to its richest and never to the chants of others.