What makes a person successful?

I remember other people's designer clothing and expensive hairstyles (remember perms? highlights?). I remember their fancy pencil cases and shiny new sneakers.

But we were on welfare. I think the right way to say it now is "receiving social assistance". But when I was a kid, "being on welfare" was a shameful secret that I never, ever disclosed.

I remember my humiliation when a girl stopped me in the hallway at school, horrified, because I was wearing the shirt she had "given away to goodwill." Apparently that same shirt had ended up in the garbage bag full of clothes that our social worker had dropped off recently.

Thrifting was not trendy, minimalist, or earth-conscious in those days. Back then, only poor people went to Value Village. Only poor people accepted garbage bags full of other people's clothes, hoping something, anything, would fit.

I remember how the lunch-time sandwiches told a story.

Mine was a single "cheese" slice with a sliver of butter between two thin pieces of cheap-as-you-can-manage white bread.

They had real cheese, lettuce, tomatoes, and meat in their sandwiches.

And their bread was brown with seeds in it. I didn't have any idea where that bread came from or what it tasted like.

And that brown bread with seeds in it and that real cheese became symbols of success to me. To not have to compare prices at the grocery store - that to me would mean I had made it.

And the only way to get out was to get smart.

So I did.

I got smart all the way to a Ph.D.

So I was a success, right?

Wrong!

Suddenly, the measure of success had changed. Now everyone was talking about love and marriage.

So I did the thing. I got married, had a couple babies, eventually bought a home.

My immigrant parents feel I have made it, that I am successful. They are proud and I am glad they are proud, of course.

But that "success" didn't save me from clinical depression.

That "success" didn't shield me from a food addiction.

That "success" was simply me checking off the boxes, not truly striving for what I always wanted, which was inner harmony, meaningful work, and a peaceful home.

Before COVID hit, I was defining success as the neighborhood I lived in, the make-model-year of my car, the clients in my calendar, the obedience and manners of my children, the quality and frequency of gifts and outings from my husband, the amount of times we could order Skip-the-Dishes each week, the caliber of gatherings with my friends, the Insta-worthy moments, and the extra cash I had to buy sweaters or tank tops, depending on the season.

That's how I knew where I stood on the ladder of success.

Since the world stopped in March of 2020, my idea of success has profoundly changed.

Here how I understand success today:

• Success is being able to get out of bed in the morning and have a shower every day without bursting into tears.

• Success is being able to put myself in the client chair and truly hold sorrow with another.

• Success is that dad-joke from my husband in the middle of my workday that makes me smile and roll my eyes.

• Success is my little daughter running up to hug me EVERY SINGLE TIME I come through the door.

• Success is my phone in another room on silent.

• Success is our Friday night family prayer meeting on Zoom where I am the only one under 65.

• Success is having the time, space, and steady mood to rescue a dog in her golden years.

• Success is a spontaneous FaceTime with my old friends in Vancouver and Calgary without feeling rushed or distracted.

• Success is forgetting to post about what I just did.

• Success is having a savings account.

I acknowledge that I can measure success this way today because I have the basics handled and to be fair, getting smart did get me out of the vicious cycle of poverty.

I have also done the gruelling work of pruning my life and my wants so I can stop trying to measure up to someone else's idea of what will make me successful.

Being in my home and with my people constantly these last two years has shifted my attention from money to time. I truly didn't even know I had my priorities mixed up until we were all forced to re-evaluate them.

Today I have brown bread and real cheese in my stainless steel fridge, along with lettuce, tomatoes, and home-cooked meat. And yet I don't know if my kids will ever appreciate their sandwiches in the same way.

I wonder how they will define success?