I’ve always thought I was special and that what I had to say was important and interesting; not in a Mariah-Carey-attitude kind of way but more in a “I have some well-thought-out ideas” Barack sort of way. I thought that in my life I might live for periods of time in a quiet lake house writing riveting fiction and visiting fabulous cities, awkwardly accepting praise for my work but deep down, expecting it. Imagine my surprise when I realized I wasn’t exceptional. I’m bulletin-board-full-of-participant ribbons average. I’m more of a Holiday Inn, less of a Shangri-La. I’m a Kit-Kat, not a gourmet sticky toffee pudding. I have always been ...ok. So how can I become special and change my status?

It became important to me to figure out why I wasn’t more distinct or doing amazing things in my life. I assumed it was fear. Fear of failure. If you’re a teacher or mom and feeling sad for me because you think someone should have told me I was special, dry your eyes. I’m good. I think I figured it out. Mediocrity is keeping me from my lake house.

I never felt worthy of being a game-changer because I was doing just fine. I didn’t have to compensate for poor parenting, survive abuse, fight disease or poverty. Be the chef who lost his sense of taste, the dancer who broke her leg, the artist who went blind, the banker who went broke, the mother who carried her children and walked for miles to higher ground to save them from a tsunami. Instead, I got good grades, made the team and only had one or two bad haircuts in my life. I publicly wet my pants once in grade 2 but blamed a leaky watering can I was using to water the class plants. Convincing story. Humiliation avoided.

I’ve never survived anything. I’ve never lived through anything. I’ve never been on the edge of anything - unless being in line at Starbucks with no cash and wondering if there was enough left on my gift card for a green tea gets your juices flowing. The shame of having to cancel my order at the register due to lack of funds - hold on to your over-the-shoulder-hipster satchels. This could get real.

Due to my relatively comfortable position in life, my motivation has perhaps been lacking. Worst of all - I might not be the most engaging at parties because of it. Consider J.K Rowling – on welfare and a single mom when she wrote Harry Potter. Ellen DeGeneres, a child of divorce, risked a successful career to ‘come out’ to her fans and ultimately lost her show before bouncing back to become a daytime TV legend. Elon Musk, abused by his father and bullied at school, now a tech giant and visionary. For goodness sake, Colonel Sanders father died when he was 5 and while his mother worked, he cooked and cared for his siblings. He only managed odd jobs and didn’t open his first chicken restaurant until he was 40. Learning disabled is a good one too but way too many cool people have dyslexia to make it count. Sorry Tom Cruise.

So then I wondered, did special people ever think they were at risk of being average? Did Stephen King always know he would be Stephen King or did he ever think he would grow up to work for Public Works or serve in a bagel shop? Did David Hasselhoff always know he would be the Hoff? That had to have been tough to plan or predict but maybe he always knew he would be somethin’. Could these people have coped with a normal life? I’ve coped too well.

To make things worse - mediocrity is encouraged. Mediocrity does not challenge rules or structure. In school or business, or career, sometimes mediocrity is rewarded. Why take a chance on talent when it could surpass you? It’s almost easy to see why I thought my mediocrity was worth preserving.

I now realize that I had the goods all along to be special. To be interesting. Being mediocre IS the ugly suffering that I now need to overcome. It’s very uninspiring to be anything other than a total failure or a mad genius. Existing between total washout and prodigy is a kind of purgatory, void of moments. No one worries about you but no one encourages you to do better. You just hang out. My ‘Susy-Q-Average-ness’ is something that I need to view as my sadness, my defining crap-hand that I’ve been dealt. It was the something holding me back. When you are mediocre – you never get the ‘oh, too bad you didn’t make it’. At least that pity gets you fired up to try again. If you succeed , you thrive on the fear of losing what you have achieved and fear is very very energizing. When you are average, you get the ‘well, I hope you had fun. Wasn’t Sally great? Sucks to be Allan. Are you hungry?’. There’s no concern there. No reason to put you on edge.

Courage to succeed and become the best comes from punishing embarrassment or an against-all-odds win. My vanilla job, my pension, my decent car, my respectable parents and my 3 day a week fitness routine are ENORMOUS killers of awesome.

We need to recognize mediocrity as a plight. Something to be discussed in therapy, to be pitied and for gawd sakes discouraged. If you’re average in math but great in dance – then dance. If you’re so-so in English but great at soccer, then kick. If you love reading, then sleep in the library! Maybe failing at one thing to be spectacular at another is not a sacrifice at all. Spending your time, your energy and your brain power on many things could be preventing you from becoming the expert or trail blazer you were meant to be. Be brave, channel your energy.

After all, that’s the reason there is music streaming now. So you can pay for that one great song and not get stuck with all the greatest hits casualties.

I now see that my mediocrity is my tsunami. I have to outrun it and get to higher ground. I have to find the energy to be better. I have to pack up, save what I can and start again. A new me. A better me. A more alive, unafraid and appreciative-of-every-minute-me, as if I have survived something.

God damn those participant ribbons. Don’t give me anything. Give me sadness, give me space to learn, leave me questioning, give me a purpose and a reason to improve. Steer me away from what I can just ‘do’ and drive me towards what I can experience and master. I’m ready to let my pendulum swing between horror and happiness!

You might want to move.

C. Sloan

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Mediocrity is my Tsunami