Your role model is dead

As a young man growing up in the world, each of us has that moment. I call it the moment you “end up in the world”. A first moment of total freedom.

I, and many of the people reading this, had an extremely lucky existence – being born and living in a western democracy, with freedoms beyond the wildest dreams of our ancestors only a few measly hundreds of years before.

This freedom also brings with it a burden. The burden of choice. The burden of meritocracy. You create your own destiny.

It used to be that if your father was a shoemaker, you’ll be a shoemaker, and so will your son and his son after him. Fathers taught sons their trade, they trained and practiced in it, until they were ready to take on the family business or start their own path in the same profession.

Now, that’s not the case.

You’re free.

And that’s terrifying.

Because you end up, at age 18 for many people, free to choose what you want to do with your life. For the first time ever, you are out of an inherent system that tells you exactly what the next thing to do is. You’re not in school anymore, but you’re not in the process of building a career just yet.

Do you take a gap year and go and travel the world?

Gather a bunch of merry men and launch a start up that will change the world?

Do you sit in your room and write poetry? Learn Swahili? Perfect your skateboarding skills?

The thing is… You can do any of those – maybe even all of those.

A lot of the time the way to making that decision goes through another individual. A role model.

The first role model I can remember having (of course, this goes beyond the child’s natural inclination for his parents as role models in earlier years) was my cousin.

He’s 10 years older than me, and when I was in high school, he was in his 20s he was living a free lifestyle, dating casually, driving a convertible car… He had some tattoos, outlandish over-the-top confidence and a whole lot of presence. 

I went with him to get my first (and only) tattoo when I was 17. That was my little way of feeling special, of expressing myself, of being different. 

My cousin taught me how to express myself more fully, how to dress in a way that draws more attention to myself, and how to deal with that attention. His ideas about life, so different than what ‘normal’ society had, allowed me to think that perhaps there is a different life out there for me – away from a 9-5 existence. I will always owe him that.

But I could never be him, and I wouldn’t trade lives with him now.

I’ve had a lot of other role models since in my life. Some for shorter amounts of time, some for more. I actually think I’m very good at becoming similar to the people I spend a lot of time with. I think everyone is like that in a way, I just think I take it to the extreme, or at least have in the past.

My role models were usually my close friends, people I admired as well as casually hung out with – a lot. And I got to learn so so much from them. I would mention them by name, but I don’t know if I should… If you read this, you know it’s you…

There was the guy who taught me what actually pursuing a single lifestyle is – with commitment to going out a lot, the moral dilemmas, and how to present yourself as a man.

The guy who went alongside me in my personal development journey, always a step ahead – until he left for a 2 year trip around the world with money made from his passive income websites – without ever having to work. He left me so inspired, living my dream like that. I knew I could do the same.

Then there was the guy who ran with me in training for my first Marathon. Always a shining example of what can be achieved, small injuries didn’t scare him, physical pain didn’t either. There was always more kms to run, more big achievements to pursue. By now, he’s run quite a few 100km races, and he still regularly helps people – not even close friends – train for their first ever long distance races. Such an amazing guy.

To really assimilate all the qualities my heroes had, I tended to believe that they were perfect – at least in the area I was trying to model them. They made no mistakes and were always happy. They had no fear, endless motivation and a superhuman ability to achieve what no one around them could.

And then there was little old me. So much more vulnerable. How different was my inner experience of myself – doubts, fears, the occasional anxiety or depression, productivity issues, quirks, shame and what not more.  

But I’ve come to realize all my ‘heroes’ had that as well. Perhaps they were not outspoken about it, but they did. They pushed through, they persevered, they achieved. That’s always the way.

But it also meant, I lost my ability to really have a role model. Someone I look up to and think – they are just better than me, in every way. I want to be like them…

At some point, I realized, no one has more authority over my life than me. There came a moment I understood – I managed to achieve so many things I wanted. This was no fluke, or stroke of luck (though a lot of luck was involved). I’m doing the right kind of things. 

It’s time to kill all my role models. They are dead.

 

I don’t mean the people by the way, I wish them a long happy life.

But my mental image of those infallible heroes. That doesn’t inspire me anymore.

What inspires me is my ideal self. Who I’ve been at my best moments, who I’m becoming more and more like every day. 

I may never get to be this man, or maybe not for %100 of the time. But heading in that direction is a path worth taking, a life worth living. Victories and failures, ups and downs are worth it, when you are pursuing your own, personal idea of perfection.

It’s not about reaching the destination, it’s about taking a worthwhile path. And this is mine.

Just remember, no one has more authority than you over your life. No one is perfect, flawless, unstoppable. You can’t be anyone but you. So who do you really want to be?