We want the work we do to have meaning.

It does, I promise. Here's how to find it.

Dear Friends,

I’m rereading Brené Brown’s Daring Greatly, and the first chapter always gets me. Especially when she talks about the fear of being ordinary.

“I see a shame-based fear of being ordinary. I see the fear of never feeling extraordinary enough to be noticed, to be lovable, to belong, or to cultivate a sense of purpose.”

“I know the yearning to believe that what I’m doing matters and how easy it is to confuse that with the drive to be extraordinary. I know how seductive it is use the celebrity culture yardstrick to measure the smallness of our lives.”

Squeak (the small) does not believe she is any lesser than Georgette. Squeak knows she is a legend.

We’re all trying to “soothe the ache of being too ordinary and inadequate” (pp. 22-23).

The way this works for me is doing more and more and more, not realizing that it’s never going to be enough.

I keep moving the goal posts. Write a book. Okay did that, but it was just a textbook. Write a novel. Did that, but it was with a small press that then folded. Write more novels and books. Did that, but with a co-op, and that reeks of “self publishing.” Ew, right?

And so, most lately, “Write books for respectable presses.” I’ve done that once now and have another draft I’m about to send in.

And as I’m finishing up this draft (for my 9/1 deadline), I’m thinking about how I still haven’t gotten rid of that ache.

And then, as I read Brown, and as I write this to you, I wonder: What will it take? The answer is that nothing will soothe the ache of being ordinary because there will always be someone who is more successful or famous or…

But here’s the deal. What if I never write a Big Book for a Big Publisher and just keep doing what I’m doing now? Will that be Enough?

So I stepped back and let that thought run through my head. What if this is it? My books with university presses who can get them out to readers? Writing the blog posts and these letters to you.

Talking to everyone I know (everyone! I’m so annoying!) about the importance of neurodiversity and inclusion of neurodivergent people?

What exactly, is my endgame?

There isn’t one, of course. That’s the seductive allure of trying to soothe the ache of ordinariness. There is never enough.

We all wish we could make a bigger splash. Be up on that TED stage. Be invited to comment on national TV.

But here’s the takeaway from all of this:

But be careful with equating fame (which feeds your ego) with impact (the lives you touch).

Impact matters, not fame.

Every person I talk to, who reads one of my books, who shares with me their story of their neurodivergent lives seeking affirmation and I’m able to give it—that’s a path, not an endgame.

That’s impact. In my small corner of the world, yes, but it is still important. Impact doesn’t have to be on a TED stage in order to matter.

It’s hard to let go of comparison and the desire for fame (however that looks to you) in our comparison-heavy culture. But let’s work on finding meaning in what we do every day. We’ll stop overworking, and we’ll all be a lot more satisfied with our lives.

We are all extraordinary.

Love to you,

Katie*

Questions for you:

• Do you think your work, your life, has meaning? If you don’t, why not?

• Are you equating meaning with fame? If no, are you…sure?

• Are you trying to soothe the ache of feeling ordinary with overwork? (More, more, more…)

• How would you reframe the way you think about your work/life to find meaning?

*As always: there may be typos, but that’s because proofreading is a weakness of mine. Thank you for overlooking them.