Little Mai Sunshine: Confidently Lost
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Friday, December 1, 2017

Confidently Lost

















Sabrina Claudio's "Confidently Lost" has been on repeat for me lately, and not only because it's musically elevating to the bone but also because the lyrics are eerily synonymous to this particular moment in my life where I feel aimless in direction. But I'm slowly grasping that whatever I do, I'm doing it with full confidence that they will all lead to something significant and greater than I can currently foresee.

This wasn't always the case up until recently. I found myself surrounded by friends who all happen to be these badass boss ladies and determined go-getters and it was easy to feel relatively inadequate and insufficient amidst the hustle. I've watched so many people I know grow so successfully and I've read about even more people I don't know making tremendous waves out there in the world. And here I am trying to make do with what I have and what I can do with what I have only to feel overwhelmed that I'm not doing enough. 

I've chased this idea of success all my life--an ingrained seed of a concept shaped by what I've heard, seen, and read, and what I only knew my life was striving towards: 

"Success is being a doctor."
"Success is finding a stable job with good income."
"Success is finally reaching a point where you're living lavishly."
"Success is being independent and self-sufficient."
"Success is that perfect life you see in the movies where the main character goes through some major life event that seems like it will set her back but she finds her way in the end and lives happily ever after."

Then what is success? Did it pertain to a specific career? The more prestigious the career, the more successful I was? Or did it mean the security and stability of a job that provided substantial income in order to live the luxurious life of travel, party, and endless photographable smiles? No, maybe it means I am reliant on no one else but myself--not my parents, not my significant other, no one. I'm living my own life and I better fight for the best life. Except, here I am, a quarter of my life later, and I feel like I've accomplished almost all of these ideas of "success". I have a job I love where I'm paid enough to live in the apartment I sought out on my own without the help of my parents while still traveling the world. So, if I've checked off those definitions, then why do I still feel like I'm not successful?

Because I learned it wasn't success I was after. It was fulfillment. I was looking to feel full within and absolute to a point in my life where I sit back and sigh out of relief and not out of stress. That one day, I can simply breathe because all my hard work finally paid off and I am living in the present and not for a future. It's not accomplishment I'm hoping for--it's comfort. And whether that looks like any of what was described above collected from outside perceptions or as ambiguous and unwritten as I'd like it to be, I know that it will be a feeling and not a vision. It will feel like my body has finally corroborated on a statement of peace between my heart and my mind. 



Photography by Eliezer Infante

1 comment

Friday, December 1, 2017

Confidently Lost

















Sabrina Claudio's "Confidently Lost" has been on repeat for me lately, and not only because it's musically elevating to the bone but also because the lyrics are eerily synonymous to this particular moment in my life where I feel aimless in direction. But I'm slowly grasping that whatever I do, I'm doing it with full confidence that they will all lead to something significant and greater than I can currently foresee.

This wasn't always the case up until recently. I found myself surrounded by friends who all happen to be these badass boss ladies and determined go-getters and it was easy to feel relatively inadequate and insufficient amidst the hustle. I've watched so many people I know grow so successfully and I've read about even more people I don't know making tremendous waves out there in the world. And here I am trying to make do with what I have and what I can do with what I have only to feel overwhelmed that I'm not doing enough. 

I've chased this idea of success all my life--an ingrained seed of a concept shaped by what I've heard, seen, and read, and what I only knew my life was striving towards: 

"Success is being a doctor."
"Success is finding a stable job with good income."
"Success is finally reaching a point where you're living lavishly."
"Success is being independent and self-sufficient."
"Success is that perfect life you see in the movies where the main character goes through some major life event that seems like it will set her back but she finds her way in the end and lives happily ever after."

Then what is success? Did it pertain to a specific career? The more prestigious the career, the more successful I was? Or did it mean the security and stability of a job that provided substantial income in order to live the luxurious life of travel, party, and endless photographable smiles? No, maybe it means I am reliant on no one else but myself--not my parents, not my significant other, no one. I'm living my own life and I better fight for the best life. Except, here I am, a quarter of my life later, and I feel like I've accomplished almost all of these ideas of "success". I have a job I love where I'm paid enough to live in the apartment I sought out on my own without the help of my parents while still traveling the world. So, if I've checked off those definitions, then why do I still feel like I'm not successful?

Because I learned it wasn't success I was after. It was fulfillment. I was looking to feel full within and absolute to a point in my life where I sit back and sigh out of relief and not out of stress. That one day, I can simply breathe because all my hard work finally paid off and I am living in the present and not for a future. It's not accomplishment I'm hoping for--it's comfort. And whether that looks like any of what was described above collected from outside perceptions or as ambiguous and unwritten as I'd like it to be, I know that it will be a feeling and not a vision. It will feel like my body has finally corroborated on a statement of peace between my heart and my mind. 



Photography by Eliezer Infante

1 comment