I’ve just returned from an amazing trip to Australia. This was my third time ‘down-under’, and I love it.
The fact that I stepped onto a plane at Perth 100% fit, and healthy, and then, some 23 hours later, landed at Heathrow unwell, seems unreal.
But that illness has been a gift.
Instead of jumping back onto the crazy merry-go-round of blogging, social networking, real time networking and a myriad of other work related tasks, I’ve been given the space to think about success and failure.
Fever fuelled voice’s kept whispering ‘are you happy with what you’re doing?’, ‘how successful do you think it’s been?’ and ‘is it worth doing given the time it takes?’
Am I happy with what I’m doing? Yes. I’m not only happy, I love what I’m doing.
How successful do I think it’s been? Not sure as I don’t know what success really means.
Is it worth doing given the time it takes? Mostly yes. Sometimes it can feel like it’s taking over my life.
What really intrigued me was that I don’t know what success really means. It means so many different things doesn’t it? For instance, if I measure my success by others standards then I’m definately a failure in their eyes.