Masterpiece

Simple Retro dress (c/o) (similar)
Aurate NY bracelet (c/o)
Location: Osborne Village – Winnipeg, Manitoba

“Edit your life frequently and ruthlessly. It is your masterpiece, after all.”
– Nathan W. Morris

It took me a long time – too long, really – to understand that those words from Nathan W. Morris really meant. As an academic high achiever, I internalised the idea that the opinions of others held considerable value. (Not just considerable value – more value than my own.) Or maybe it was the fact that I’d internalised that idea that made me feel like academic success was so important. Either way, I was only as good as my teachers thought I was. And, by extension, only as good as others believed me to be. My life might be my masterpiece, but if no one else appreciated the art of it, then it had no value.

Because I’m stubborn, that meant that I kept friends who treated me poorly. If I knew someone for whom my efforts never seemed to be enough, I just kept trying to do more and be better so they would finally be impressed. It meant I pursued relationships that could never work with people who expected me to constantly prove my love because I believed I had something to prove. I gave up on almost every activity at which I didn’t immediately show preternatural talent – with the notable exception of gymnastics. The simple fact that I enjoyed it wasn’t enough. I needed to be good. Not just good, excellent, so that people around me could see it. I needed their appreciation in order to be able to appreciate myself.

Needless to say, it was a revelation when I was finally able to let go of the idea that to be good, I needed to measure up to an arbitrary standard set by someone else. When I finally saw my life for what it was – my own masterpiece, to craft and perfect exactly as I wanted, no matter how it looked to anyone else – everything changed.

The realisation came upon me suddenly, on an idle Thursday while I sat at my desk in a dreary office in east Vancouver. I was twenty-eight. By that age, I’d done everything in life that I was “supposed to do” in the appropriate amount of time. I was a champion box ticker. Graduated from high school and gone straight to university, where I did the same. Met a man, married him, bought a home and started a promising career, making a meteoric rise to management in just five years. The problem was, no one seemed especially impressed. After all, the expectation was set: I was supposed to do those things, and I did them. “What now?” I wondered to myself that day. “Do I sit at this desk every day for the next forty years, just waiting for the next thing I’m supposed to do, which is retire?”

The prospect of doing that was too horrifying to contemplate. I was miserable, and deeply bored. I knew I needed to change.

If you’ve been here for a while, the story of what happened next is one you already know. I followed Nathan W. Morris’ advice and began working on the masterpiece of my life, finally making it my own. I left Canada for Europe, starting down a path of doing what I wanted regardless of what anyone else had to say about it. And many people had a lot to say. Many of them offered those opinions, unsolicited, under the guise of, “trying to help.” But for the first time, they didn’t interest me.

(People are always trying to help. And when their attempts aren’t met with gratitude, they often complain. Anytime someone tells me, “I was just trying to help,” I respond with the question, “Who asked you to?” It’s incredible how that simple question can shift a person’s perspective entirely.)

Years later, a much happier and more fulfilled version of me found herself back at a desk in front of a computer, talking to a colleague. She said something – it’s hard to remember what at this point, and the startled colleague asked, “But don’t you care what other people think?”

I didn’t hesitate to answer, “No.” I care what I think. That’s something I can control. My life is my masterpiece, and if I’m satisfied with the way it’s coming out, that’s what matters.

Shop the Post