Kindness, In This Economy?
I'm a good person, but is that enough?
If you are new here or have never met me, allow me to introduce myself, for it will provide context to the existential spiral about to ensue.
My name is Courtney, I am 25, blue-eyed and passionate in my approach to just about everything. I feel everything incredibly deeply, which is sometimes too much. I grew up playing music and dancing competitively, so well that I went to university for it and got top marks, until one day I dropped out because I let myself get so wrapped up in a man's opinions and advice I thought it was for the best—so deluded was I, that I thought I had come to that conclusion myself. I suppose it is important that I mention I can be a bit of a chameleon; the kind of person that tries on the skin of those around her and finds ease in doing so—sometimes I get so wrapped up in the costume I forget it is not my own. Akin to when the infamous Harry Potter trio took turns in wearing a cursed locket that influenced the wearers emotions with its own poisonous personality, sometimes the foreign personality I try on can leech into my own and I lose sight of who I am. I gave up music shortly after another (failed) relationship wherein I became so invested in this other person's pursuits, so enamoured, that I let my own become overshadowed. You see, I tend to put myself on the back-burner when I love someone— I am still learning why, and after years of carrying his pain and fighting for his success I forgot about my own. I worked in bars for years, did all the drugs under the sun, fucked my way through my colleagues and became a yoga teacher—naturally. In my life I have come close to death twice, and that became both my biggest blessing and my heaviest curse to bear. I cry easily and am empathetic to my own detriment. I have big dreams but often lack the logic to execute them, and can find myself lost in my own head—I tend to get overwhelmed and give up easily. I am an over-thinker and perhaps an over-carer. I love deeply and am fiercely loyal to the select few who I allow into my life—these people I covet like treasure. I am open and honest, although sometimes I don't say what I really mean for fear of upsetting the other person and end up hurting myself more in turn. I am an incredible teacher, although not always patient, and I have the ability to light up a room; however, these days I tend to sit quietly in corners and let others do the talking.
You see, I have always prided myself on being a somewhat unique and genuine person, decent, loving, and with good intentions. The kind of person you can tell anything, that you are safe with to be 100% yourself, to be honest with and to try things on for size. As you now understand, I am just as much a mess as you—so my theory is, who am I to judge? I am everyone’s #1 cheerleader and feel genuine joy when I can empower others to do their best and feel good in their own skin. So despite my own lack of "tangible" success, I have a unique ability to help others reach their own potential.
TLDR: I am a good person.
But is it enough? I guess I don’t know anymore.
Lately I have been questioning everything—after all, what is a twenty-something year old to do with their spare time except question their entire existence. I feel as though this last year has been nothing but a quiet existential crisis that I am slowly losing my grip on. To those looking in I likely seem like I have it together—is this not often the case when we pass judgements on those we do not truly know. I live on my own in a sweet little two bedroom home, I am in a healthy, loving relationship that inspires me and fills me with joy, I have a stable job where I am respected and somewhat senior, and I have friends who I can call if the proverbial shit hits the fan.
To me, it has always felt like I have it all. So what is missing here now, that never used to bother me?
Merit and credit. Something to my name.
In this day and age, particularly the last 12-24 months we have seen the rise of side hustles, young people with start ups—that in turn become a huge success, influencers travelling the world before the age of 22, people with multiple degrees and thousands of dollars to spend on a house deposit or a boob job if they so desire. And despite the safe little pockets of the internet where we are kind to one another, choose to live slow and enjoy the little things in life, we still glorify the hustle and frown upon those who choose to just get by. Those who are happy just living.
I have people in my life who work full-time jobs Monday to Friday, then set up camp for hours at night to build their empires; on weekends they work a seperate job to make more cash and then the cycle begins again—eat, sleep, work, repeat. And I see them making money in leaps and bounds compared to me, they own the rights to something that is completely their own—be it a house, a business, a car or their own creative hobbies. These astound me with their drive, commitment and consistency.
And I look at this and think fuck, what do I have?
I used to think I was content living day to day, appreciating the small things—I thought, so long as I get to the end of my life and can look back thinking I was happy, kind and loved, that I would be satisfied. But I am starting to wonder if maybe that is not true. Is it actually enough to just be a good person, or do we all need to have something to our name? Do we need to prove our worth, and further still, do we need to monetise it for it to mean anything at all?
I hold so much guilt for never finishing my degree—well, degrees, I hold a diploma in both Performing Arts and Health Science, but without the weight of a bachelor to give them credit in the real word, both are rendered a very expensive waste of time. I often wonder to myself what I could be doing if I had just kept going; maybe I would be happier as a music teacher, or maybe I would have actually made it and could have been touring the world, stage after stage every night. Perhaps I could be spending my days in a clinic supporting clients to feel their best, I could be challenged by pathology, psychology and endless research. But instead I wake up at 4:55am every day just to work towards someone else's dream, and am left to wonder—with what little energy I have left, what about my own?
But now at 25, with a relocation across the country, nine different homes, a few reckless holidays and far too many medical expenses under my belt I fear I will never have the money or time to take a risk and follow my heart. That I have left it too late to continue the experiment.
There is so much conflicting within me; I tell myself that there is no rush, the world tells us that there is no rush, but at the same time we collectively agree that we ought to be settled and sorted by 30, or maybe 40 these days—but christ how do I get there if I am no better off than I was five years ago and the economy is only getting worse?
And so I wonder, am I genuinely unhappy or am I just comparing myself to those around me? I am my own biggest critic, yes. But this feeling of unrest, is it because I am not happy, and I know I have the talent to be where I want to be, just lacking the gumption to find the money—or is it the time? I am frustrated with myself for giving up so many times over the years, but then I wonder if perhaps it wasn't so much giving up as it was just surrendering to that time in my life. If maybe I haven't wasted time because if I had taken another path I would never have experienced the life I have—I have met so many different people, I have held so many beautiful faces tenderly between my palms, kissed the lips of a thousand strangers, I have laughed until I have cried, danced on tables at 4am and expanded my emotional vocabulary to a polished literary wonder. And I think to the people that have the status and the material tangible success, who are lonely because they sacrificed all other areas of life and love to get to where they are now. So perhaps for that I am richer.
So if not money and fame, I wonder if my own moral compass and life goals have become skewed the longer I spend in such a transient city. Where I am from, a slow life is just fine because those you build it with stay. Community is everywhere and rather than building your life of status and wealth, you build a life on love, family and sharing. I wonder if what really upsets me is that I was taught to live that way for the first 19 years of my life, but with the nature of Melbourne and it’s coming and going I can so quickly lose what I began with?
Is my problem a lack of ongoing community, a lack of permanence? Or is it my lack of perceived success on paper? Answer: unsure.
Is it that I need to decide on what it is that defines me, and follow a path to that that I am proud of? Answer: likely.
In a world that rewards the financially wealthy, glorifies stress and hustle just to be someone, is simply being a good person enough? Answer: needs more research.
But really, what is it that defines someone as having "made it?"
I guess it’s what we make of it ourselves.
So, I am Courtney, I am 25, a little lost and confused, a self-diagnosed bleeding heart, a passionate—although not always succinct, writer, a loving girlfriend, an absolute idiot and a steadfast friend. I am a good person, and for now, I think that is enough.
And so to you, if you are like me, questioning your career path, your time whether wasted or not; just focus on being you, as authentically as you can be. In a world where 80%—this is not a real statistic, of what we consume and the people we meet exist behind a screen of filters, surgeries, diluted personalities and inflated status, I believe the most successful and rarest thing you can do is be yourself. I hold hope that by waking up each day, and choosing to treat people with kindness, by living with an open heart and mind, the rest will fall into place as it should.
Let me know what you think.
With a heart full of hope,
Courtney x
Thank you for reading.
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