Coming to terms with my ordinaryness

Hello again.

It has been around 1.5 years since I last wrote a blog post about my thoughts and opinions. I have been busy with graduation, navigating some difficult life events, and relocating across continents.

You know, the usual :)

I have come to realize, however, that this blog is quite important to me. When I look back on the times I was consistent with my writing, I felt most integrated and self-contained. Looking back, I now know I was incredibly happy, as if I were giving voice to my inner self. It's weird how humans can be jealous of their own past selves. I certainly am.

I recall the times when I had a schedule: going for a walk, showering, sitting down, and writing. Every Saturday morning at 10 am, I poured my thoughts into a blank screen and posted them the same weekend.

The point of this blog was never to reach the masses. Rather, it was a medium through which I made sense of the world. I wanted, no matter how many read it, to touch them in some way and for them to feel seen, even if a little. Certainly, that is what I have been craving my whole life. Every time I posted, I would get one or two long messages from someone feeling connected to what I was saying. I found that resonance incredibly beautiful. It felt like they were part of my own little world of introspective and observant people.

I've missed it. I've missed you, my fellow reader friend.

As such, with the start of the new year, I want to begin again. Thank you for continuing to be a part of this little exploration with me every once in a while.

Today I want to explore a topic that has been on my mind a lot lately. It is about a fundamental wiring I have had my whole life.

That I must always be extraordinary. No exceptions.

Growing up, the words mediocrity, average, good enough, and common were some of my biggest fears in life. I could not fathom someone wanting a life of simplicity and having satisfaction in the smallness of moments. I wanted a big life, with big dreams and a big impact.

With more life experience, however, I have come to realize that the reason behind wanting such grandness may be the proportionality of a certain void inside of me. The bigger the void, the bigger the desire for the big life.

In my absence from this blog, though, I have been observing and noticing people around me. I've realized that what I deemed "ordinary" was someone else's dream come true. People just dream of different things.

For example, I had a conversation with someone a few years older than me. I was in a relatively smaller town at the time. I asked them why they wouldn't want to move to a bigger city and try to maximize their success.

What they said in return astounded me. They said, “I grew up in another country as a gay person. I was never accepted for who I was. I dreamt of always having a space where my identity was not an issue, and people loving me regardless of my sexuality. And coming to a first-world country meant I could have it. So, I don't want to move to a bigger city, because I am already living the life I've dreamt of since I was a little child.”

I was stunned. It made me reflect on my own smugness and the breaking of the illusion that I had any idea about what other people might want from this life.

The conversation above also made me go back to my childhood. I started thinking of my own dreams and where they started. I have had many of them, and some even big ones. For me, being extraordinary was its own survival mechanism. It gave a sense of temporary agency. Even the perfect escape at times. I used it to shield myself from criticism, even from some of my own flaws. I believed that if I were successful and extraordinary enough, no one would hurt me. This mechanism is quite fragile, though. What I didn't realize was that having to protect myself so aggressively in the first place was where the hurt and grief were hidden.

Best-selling author Dr. Arthur Brooks calls this “the striver's curse. No matter how much you achieve, it never feels enough. No amount of achievement seems enough to overcome the burdens and the requirements of bearing the human condition. The dark realities, the shame, the guilt, the heartbreak, and the suffering cannot be avoided. Everyone has to feel these emotions, no matter how rich or successful they are.

All this sounds depressing, I know. So how did I come to terms with my ordinaryness?

Well, first of all, I accepted that it is not the enemy. My feelings and the narrative that it is the enemy are.

I then looked for answers in nature, the universe, and death:

Let us take the example of acorns. At every step of its growth, the seed is good enough, yet it keeps growing.

I have found it difficult to strike a balance between feeling enough and accepting oneself at every stage while also continuing to grow. But nature does it every day.

As a self-proclaimed space nerd, I also want to point out a truth of the universe. That our insignificance in the large scale of the universe is the ultimate truth. As the speech from Carl Sagan reminds us, we live on a speck of dust suspended in a sunbeam. Insignificant to all that matters. We live on a pale blue dot. If this is not a good reason to embrace the "ordinaryness" of life, I don't know what is. What we call ordinary is itself a miracle. An impossibility come true. We do not need to keep proving what is already true in nature, the universe, and reality itself.

Another reality check giver is death. I find it is a great tool for putting the value of life into perspective.

All of life. Not just the extraordinary bits. We have all probably heard of people on their deathbeds mourning and grieving the most ordinary moments. The smell of air after rain, the sun on our faces, the laughter with the people we love, and the moments of inner peace. It is rare to hear someone miss their awards.

I might have been missing the most extraordinary moments while chasing something infinite in the future, after all.

If you can relate to me, I just want to say to you, my fellow extraordinaryness chaser, that maybe you are enough even when you don't chase it. Maybe, as a child, you weren't loved if you weren't at your best all the time. Even when no one is clapping or validating your choices, maybe they still matter. Maybe, just like for me, your most difficult person to impress might be yourself. I want to invite you to ask the question,

“What would it take for me to embrace my ordinaryness? What if I am already extraordinary just by existing?”

I would even ask you, from a utilitarian perspective, to consider that embracing your ordinaryness might be critical to your long-term success. The extraordinary life is mostly short-lived. Most of life is boring, mundane, and well, ordinary. So the person who can embrace these parts, create space for expansion and stillness, seems to go the farthest, even if not the fastest. Even if you are not convinced by my arguments and still believe conventional success is most important to you, embracing your ordinariness might still be the key to long-term success.

So, I ask myself, "Is an ordinary life enough?"

This question gives me shivers because I have been afraid to ask them for a really long time. But I think it is time.

My answer, as of now, is yes: an ordinary life is enough, but with caveats. I need to ensure that the pursuit of extraordinariness is a choice, not a necessity. True fulfillment for me comes from feeling whole regardless of external achievements, and sometimes valuing belonging over standing out.

Does this mean I will no longer strive for great things?

No, but I must realize life in its own basic form is already more extraordinary than I could ever imagine. That I hope I never lose sight of the obvious magic of everyday life. That I become present enough to notice them.

That one day at a time, I come to terms with my ordinaryness.

To me, fully accepting my own ordinaryness is now the most extraordinary achievement of all.

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