Compare and despair.
It's a saying that I was introduced to years ago.
"Compare and despair, Trisha," I was cautioned.
It means that if you look at somebody else and begin comparing yourself to them, it won't be long until you feel absolutely miserable.
It's easy to do as an artist today.
How many Instagram followers do they have?
They sold that painting for HOW much?
Who received the award this year?
It's important to run your own race, both in your profession and in your life. My mother taught me that.
She always tells me "Don't worry about what everyone else is doing, Trisha. You run your own race." It takes a lot of the pressure off.
And in doing this, it's changed my definition of failure. A few years back, I began a tech company. Right as it was at its height- international growth, celebrity and mainstream media endorsements- I shuttered its doors.
I don't know what people thought of that move because I didn't pay much attention or ask. But I assume many thought that I had gone crazy. I shut it down right on the cusp of what looked inevitably to be huge success.
I closed it for many reasons. One, I learned some lessons along the way which didn't jive with my original motivation and inspiration to start the business. Two, I found out that it wasn't what I wanted to do.
I wanted to be a tech billionaire because I'm a millennial and I saw Zuckerberg. That's no reason to choose a career.
I thought, because of how "tech entrepreneur" looked, that I knew how it would feel. I didn't know how that role would feel until I tried it on and became one.
I hated waking up in the middle of the night worrying if our servers had crashed. I hated cranking out content just for the sake of cranking out content so that our SEO didn't suffer.
I loved the way that it looked, but hated the way that it felt, so I ended it.
I ran my own race. I didn't worry about anything external, but rather I used an internal compass to make my decisions.
Do I sometimes compare myself with other tech entrepreneurs who started around the same time as me and weren't as successful back then but now are thriving? No. I honestly don't.
Because the beauty about running your own race is that you don't care what your race looks like, you've learned to tap into how it feels.
I don't care that I didn't sell anything at my last exhibit... I'm proud of my work.
I don't care if people don't "get" my art, or they think it's too much of this or not enough of that... My work is the perfect amount of everything for me. If it wasn't, I would not put my signature on it.
I don't care what it looks like to anybody, because I'm too busy enjoying how it feels.
Don't do what you do to please critics. Critics aren't pleased with themselves; that's why they are critics.
Run your race. Don't look at who's running beside you.
Run it because you love to run. And if you trip, get back up and start running again because you love to run.
And if somewhere in the middle, like me, you find that you don't like to run the way you're currently running, I hope you find the faith and bravery to stop running that way.
And to start running in a different direction.
I quote Emerson a lot, but he said: "All life is an experiment. The more experiments you make, the better."
So run a few different kinds of races to see what you like. Kiss a few different people to see who you like. And experiment as much as you can with as much as you can. But for the love of God, don't waste your time comparing.
Because at the end of all of this, the only thing you need to answer to is yourself and your Creator.
In the infinite words of my timeless mother: Run your own race, and always keep your head held high.
TRISHA WILES