What would it take for you to be incredibly successful?

What’s missing in your life?  What would you really love to be able to do?  What do you think is stopping you from becoming everything you can be?  Share your thoughts here and find out what others are saying.

Take a couple of minutes and add a comment here about what it would take for you to be so much more successful than you currently are.  ‘Success’ can be defined in many ways, so choose what suits you best.  Dream big!

Here are some things to think about as you consider what to write:

1.  What would you be doing in your life if you were incredibly successful?

2.  Who would you be doing it with?

3.  What kinds of skills or resources that you don’t currently have would you need to live this amazing life?

4.  How would you be feeling, and how does that differ from what you’re feeling like now?

5.  How would you know that you’ve reached the level of success you desired?

Who knows…   Maybe we’ll be able to do some success building together if there are some common areas to focus on.  I think that would be awesome!

So what do you need for success?  Write your comment below.

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  • http://hsponedge.wordpress.com Bryn

    As a 50+ woman who in the last few years has discovered she is Highly Sensitive, ADHD, and an INSF: I am now struggling with the bitterness and parade of other negative self-flogging lashes of emotions and am juggling it between myself and God (as opposed to just myself), for having created me this way. I had previously scathed myself on a minute-by-minute basis for being a failure and having accomplished nothing and never having loosed the stingy holder of words who let nothing escape the solid block of cement smothering the well of words, yet cruelly never dimmed the intensity of the complusion to write (I was so promised in high school that my gifted IQ manifested in the ability to write, and oh, how naively, even believed it possible when encouraged to write for a living. Low self-esteem, warring factions within my own dysfunctinal personality, i.e the perfectionist Virgo who is thwarted constantly by the ever-present, ever-fighting lazy, clutter-loving, tattooed and pierced rebel who screams “who gives a sh&^% about any of it, why does it matter?” until apathy wins, until I shut down to stop the guilt, the harsh words, the regrets, the chaotic dark whirlwind that my aging, beleagerd brain has become, so choked with overwhelmed senses and pain from the accumulated assualt of the usual everyday world that makes my nerves scream and temper flare and body ache in the peculiar areas targeted by fibro. I shut down desperately, trying to give my battered nervous system time to quiet, time to repair, give my nerves time to stop screaming like they’re being grated by a zester; all because my mind/body defenses such as fight or flight are so constantly in a high state of readiness that a simple day of work then perhaps a stop at the local grocery store; yes, everyday life, in otherwords, may as well be a day in the heat of combat in a sustained firefight with bombs bursting and the dying screaming. A tad too extreme of an analogy? Then you, my lucky friend, don’t know the hell that is hypersensitivity to every sense, including that which allows you to soak up other people’s pain, anger, anxiety, then ratchet all that sensory input up a few thousand times until you would run your car off a cliff to escape the noise and chaos and nervous energy and nagging pain your mind/body has morphed into yet again except that you have people who love you.
    Too sensitive to live in this world (as my fairly new blog states); I question and analyze and rant about my luck?? of being an HSP, gifted person. So far, all I’ve gotten is the constant pain of overfeeling and hurting for others, esp. animals. God gave me the overpowering love of animals; yet He also gave me such sensitivity and empath that I can do nothing to help them, or interact with much more than my own. I tried walking dogs at a nice shelter; I have trained as an animal commnicator; but the inability to take their pain or fear or love that I feel so deeply and honestly and lower it to a level that doesn’t break my delicate but genuine heart has stymied my search for a way to interact with my only passion (other than reading).
    Although always an excellent well-liked and respected employee, my personal shambles of a life; highlighted by poisionous relationships and gypsing about, moving alone with my beloved dogs across two states because hey, if I lived in the beautiful montains, how could I not write beautifully? I moved alot, searching for that one place where I could access myself, breach the closed up, society friendly imposter I knew I was shielding my very core with, and quite deftly. If you don’t consider various relationships with alcohol and drugs that may have been illegal but at least made me feel like I actually had a personality; you know, like everyone else who could be comfortable around groups of people, talk to just anyone, have opinions, be spontaneous, outgoing, everything that I had pined for, envied, hated myself for lacking; a weak, sometimes unstable poser who had everyone fooled; everyone thought I had it going on, was the luckiest one in the room, so popular, smart, together. The emotional and physical toll of maintaining that hard-won public facade was immense, not to mention the falsity of it, the knowing that they all only loved the good parts that I showed them, and whew, boy, if they only knew the real me, then they’d know how shallow, uninspired, uncreative, worthless etc. etc. I really am. This is still the way I live; not knowing myself much more than I ever did; I just now have valid explanations of why I am the way I am, and so it’s not all my fault (although I take full responsibilty for the many bad decisions I made, and were it not for a loving family that I praise God to the highest for, truly I may not be here to whine all this to you), it’s not that I’m just weak, overemotional, lacking any good qualities etc; God Himself created me this way! But hey, guess what? Who to blame matters not; the end result is the same. The HSP and gifted websites are invaluable for trying to undo the years of damage and confusion and tragic loss of hope. But, if you haven’t found the reason God made you this way, as in, what is your purpose for life, what are you here to do, then you are still not whole, still hurting, still searching. You feel that need to help so strongly, it’s like a hook in your skin, tugging, tugging; along with the huge certainty that you are missing the most important truth, the emptyness in your tender heart that cries out mournfully for loving purpose, a reason to live, one thing that you do that would make you proud, a very scarce but vastly needed self-judgement that is on the happy side of the spectrum. I have prayed, I have tried various modalities, such as EFT, meditation, psychics, in the past 5 years or so. I have taken obscene amounts of anti-depressants, anti-anxiety, narcotic pain killers, afore mentioned various drugs of the possibly-illicit variety; sometimes drank to excess, have’t for years. Therapy, EFT therapy, self-help, all of it. Currently, I am doing well in that I am almost completely off of narcotics, after literally years of numbing pain and trying unsucessfully to numb my angsty-bitchy brain that could never re-focus all that wasted nervous energy and irritation and just-under-the skin blazing anger into something positive. I am seeing a chronic pain psychiatrist who doesn’t believe in opioids (I’m sorry, what?); instead, she prescribrd Concerta, after several hit and miss trials with the other stimulants; and God bless her, with the Concerta calming my brain system down, the environmental assualts have lessened, which has lessened the chronic pain of the over-stimulated and tensed muscles and joints. I can focus on work easier, I have more energy, which is to say I have energy at all, and some days I don’t have to plug my ears with earbuds and blast hard rock to keep from pitching my stapler at my officemate because she’s a loud breather, and every breath she would take would rasp against every freaking nerve in my body until I wanted to slit my throat with my letter opener. Not to mention if there were heated words in the conference room next door or out in the hallway; my pulse would race and I’d try to fight the instinct to flee, run, hide! Sometimes, yeah, I’ll step outside to get a breath of quiet fresh air until things calm down, because the anger and other emotions being bandied about so willy-nilly by the non-sensitive bangs on my aura, demanding attention, admittance, response.
    So it is better in a good way, esp. not being drug out, literally, by the Xanax and Vicodin and Soma etc just to make it through the work day.
    Yet, I still don’t know what my purpose is, who is to benefit from my heightened senses, my deep love for all that is furry. I can not stomach seeing hurt or unhappy animals. I have pictures of baby animals, moms with their babies, any and every type of animal, plastered on the walls around my desk; they soothe me, make me smile, although I will tear up at a picture of a baby sloth all wrapped in a blanket holding a toy in a sloth refuge; so cute, so innocent, motherless. I have stopped reading the paper on advice from a therapist yearts ago; I used to be addicted to it. But all that bad news that I can do nothing about only adds fuel to the doom and gloom, why bother, it’s all hopeless spiral that is barely held in check by the anti-depressant I still have to take. People are bizarre in that they feel compelled to tell me horric stories of whole generations of beautiful, so smart they have their own language dolphins being systematically slaughtered in Japan, or puppies having their ears cut off in Tijuana or this or that atrocity to an animal; not realizing that I will have to shut down and really really work at not immediately going down in a spiral of flames and weeping uncontrollably, because it does hurt me that much that this type of heinous, heartless cruelty happens. Wolves shot from helicoptors, pit bulls and rotties being overbred and abused until their breeds are villified, condemed, fill overcrowded shelters or are just put down immediately and more and more specifically prohibited from cities etc. I had a 125 lb rott that was love personified; a big goofy bundle of love that visited sick kids in the hospital as a therapy dog until her health declined. I lost her over 10 years ago and will still well up with tears when I see another gorgeous rottie. She’s coming back to me, but not for a while yet.
    I can hermit for days, talking to no one but my beloved animals, reading a good book, and be as happy as the marathon runner who just bested her own record. Running from the last messily-imploding relationship, unfullfilling job,the boredom with my life, always so unsettled, so alien in my own skin; the need to seek thrill overriding the more cautious, sane aspects of the sensitive, practical Virgo portion of my relationship. But as always, one must survive, working at a job they’re very proficient at, (in my case, accounting), yet, aside from being a valued employee, there is no joy, no self-fullfillment. the inability to focus for any length of time, and the absolute dearth of ambition and self-will have made it impossible for me become anything more than a bitter, frustrated, irritated woman who has wasted her supposedly gifted life. I have been clincally depressed for over a decade, developed fibromyalgia from the unrelenting onslaught of noise and light and soul-sucking energy vampires that haven’t the slightest clue about their brash, pushy energy as they talk loudly or aggressively or God forbid, breach my admittedly large personal space bubble, forcing me to step back, lean away, shut down, whatever, until they take their extroverted selfs elsewhere, and allow my stimulated nervous system to shift it down a notch and recover.
    Are you still with me? Are you sorry you asked? I appreciate you allowing me to ramble here; although you are probably asking yourself what allow? you just came in and took advantage, jumped on your soapbox and away you went, hellbent for leather.
    Well; the whole reason I was sparked to write was the topic; If I’m so smart, then why?? and this is one of my biggest struggles with bitterness as so ramblby and unsuccinctly explained above. I am so glad to have found this website/forum; I had, I am not kidding, completely forgotten that I had ever been labeled gifted, until last week, when I was reading Dr. Aron’s book on HSP’s and how they tend to be creative and gifted, and I was thinking my usually ugly thoughts of yeah, right, like, when are you going to use any gifts or be creative when the HSP part has/is ruling/ruining your life. It snapped to in my cranky head; hey, wait a minute, I was gifted, I tested out at a higher IQ starting in like 3rd grade. I got to watch movies, take special classes, all that. It’s just that my brain is so tired, my memory so poor, and I’m so used to being dulled by pain or meds, distracted by everything, experiencing the normal changes of age, menopause etc, that the last thing I’m remembering is that at one time I was considered gifted. Wow. Didn’t do anything with it, didn’t go to college despite being accepted at a 4 yr university based on grades and SAT’s; got married instead. Later, tried to go back several times, but although I tested in with the equivalent of an AA straight out of high school, I could not focus, could not handle the committment of having to be somewhere and do something and possibly failing, or even just not make the best grade, and that’s not acceptable, even if the devil’s advocate part of me refused to buckle down and do the homework, don’t wait until the last minute, don’t this, do that; to this day, I hate being told what to do, yet will self-police myself harder than you ever thought of doing. Parts of my personality; can’t work without a deadline, have to have compelling reason to do said thing. Don’t get me started on getting anywhere on time, and what affront it is to my rebel side to have to abide by society’s concept of time. Time is my worst enemey; I have no innate concept of it, so am always rushing, alwasy surprised at what time it is. Didn’t wear a watch for years because, yes, wearing one is giving in to the Man, toeing the line. I HATE to go to bed; I HATE to have to get up. It is so simple, so true, and runs in my family; our body clocks don’t mesh well with normal society’s. So punching a time clock at my job is a daily torture, as is every morning when I have to fight myself to get up, dammit, you can’t be again or you’ll be back in the HR office being scolded, because it doesn’t matter how well you do your job or that you put in your 8 hours a day….
    But, once again I digress: The question being, what would you do if you could do anything?
    So simple, so easy; own or work at a relaxed home for orphaned baby animals, and just love them and teach them and exalt in their every little milestone, and let them soak in the endless amounts of love that I have for them. that I value them, know they are sentient beings, have emotions, their own life purposes etc. No sick or injured, unless I could work my way up to it; just animals, from a sloth to a squirrel to a dog to whatever needs loving care. This to me would be success beyond imagining.
    I know you’re supposed to just make your life’s dream happen, but the reality is that my own job is tenuous right now, my fiancee was just laid off, we live in an apt because we were saving to buy a house, and already we have 2 dogs and 2 cats. I’ll keep looking, trolling the net, trying to find somewhere that I can help without having a piece of my soul die, like at the shelter. In the meantime; all I can do is to keep praying for God to show me the path he created me for, where the gifts (I have to so struggle to think of it that way) would be put to good use; OR, and I’ve prayed this many times and quite imploringly: if you’re not going to show me my purpose, if maybe I missed it when I was out running around and making bad decisions, then Lord, I implore you to please, for the love of all that is holy, shut me down, take it all down a few hundred notches; take away the defeated but occasionally still strong compulsion to write; still the loud large demand in my heart and soul to help animals; give me a break, dear Lord; give me strength, toughen my skin, heart, soul so that the many bad things that happen all over this world to animals (and people) doesn’t punch me in the chest and knock me into that spiral that could take a few tears or a few days of utter hopeless depression to process and get over.
    And yet, I hope. I rally, sometimes for days at a time, having faith that I will find the precious treasure that will make my life worthwhile, the gift from God that will enable me to be the person he’s always intended me to be. And now that I remember that, technically, like 45 years ago, I was gifted, maybe that will give me the little edge, the little push I needed to step over that block lying in my path. Maybe it will goad me into trying to write more, and better, and some weeks, even at all.

    • http://giftedforlife.com Sonia Dabboussi

      Bryn,

      I can hardly imagine all of the pain you have been through in your life. Your gifts have come in many form, and seemingly enough, have hardly felt like gifts at all. But as you have mentioned yourself, you are who you are for a reason, you have an ultimate purpose that no one can fulfill except you.

      The pictures you have painted with your words are deep, dramatic, and all-enveloping, so it is obvious you have a special ability when it comes to writing. If it is something you love, then it likely is part of your grand purpose somewhere, somehow.

      Your intense attraction to and love for animals I would guess is most definitely the foundation of your life calling. Feeling the parts of this that move you the most will guide you toward the destination you were designed for. I get the sense that you may be someone like Jane Goodall who makes an impact on the animal world in a way that few people can. I’m not very familiar with the details of her life, but I’ve seen the look on her face as she cares for the animals with which she works, and I feel something the same, if not even stronger, would be visible in you. Jane Goodall removed herself from the hustle and bustle of city life and found her home in nature among elements of the earth that soothed her most. She went against the ‘rules’ of society that told her to find a 9-5 job and turn off the love she had for the natural world in order to live in a way that made sense to her, and that opened the hearts of the world to aspects of the animal kingdom that they may never have otherwise experienced. Perhaps your purpose lies somewhere along these lines as well.

      Being in your 50s doesn’t mean that life is over. And it doesn’t mean that you’ve wasted your time to date. Everything that has been part of your life has shaped who you have become. The challenges you have faced have helped you to build strength that you may not otherwise have acquired in your life. And this strength may be necessary for the work you have yet to do, work that lies outside the traditional realm and that may ultimately change the face of our planet.

      You are here for a reason, with all of the sensitivities, loves and intensities that you possess, in order to make a huge difference. I can just tell. People who are numb to the world can never discover its endless depths. Those who experience more can find what others could not begin to imagine even exists.

      There’s a forum here that I’d love to have you share your further thoughts in. There’s more room to write there, and even more people who share some of the ideas you’ve expressed here. I’d really like to help you take some steps forward today because there is something on the horizon that has been awaiting your arrival for a long time. Please join me in the forum here: http://giftedforlife.com/forum/success-on-the-outside-getting-outstanding-results-in-education-careers-and-money/what-would-it-take-for-you-to-be-incredibly-successful/#p412

    • Djinnia

      Hi Bryn: Wow, you are such an eloquent writer! Thanks for sharing your experience. I am an HSP as well, read Dr. Aaron’s books, had a lot of difficulty in life until I found out I am a Highly Sensitive Person and indeed gifted, but not valued much in society, sadly. I am 53 now, and have found a couple of paths, one is through dance, I teach it, I also get out & dance for fun with friends and also I help seniors with dance as therapy. Using Buddhist philosophies work well for me, only up to a point though, I try to be kind as much as possible, and know that most people walk over compassionate people, so one has to be careful not to practice “idiot compassion”. Meditation helps 100% for sure. Otherwise, I have become very careful in life, I shelter myself a lot and use essential oils & crystals for their healing properties, sage smudge my space almost daily, and am now more choosy as to who I share my life with. Lots of mistakes trusting people who were not capable of healthy relating, lots of damage done to me in the past. Lots of really messed up people out there hurting the nice ones until we finally lash out in disgust. Live and learn. Life will always be more challenging for people like us. Sending you love and courage to keep going and find more ways that work for you. You deserve love & peace. We all do.

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