Meaning of Success? Lessons: Theme 1 — Respect 09
Success? Lessons: Theme 1 — Respect
- I wanted to prove to the whole world that I was not “brain damaged”—that I was worthy of respect and even admiration. (From Being an Astronaut)
- I wanted to prove it to myself most of all. (From Being an Astronaut)
- Respect—and the idea that others could respect me. (From Being a Vulcan)
- Having respect. (From Being a Photojournalist)
- Sense of pride and accomplishment. (From Being a Pilot)
- Showing everyone else that I was better than they thought. (From Being a Pilot)
- Finding self-respect and the feeling of accomplishing the “impossible.” (From Being a Priest)
- Wanting to emulate a man I deeply respected and loved. (From Being a Priest)
- Wanting to be like my father. (From Being a Photojournalist)
- The pride of creation. (From Being a Writer)
This category surprised me the most—and made me think. It shouldn’t be surprising that someone with my early life would hunger for the basic respect everyone deserves but I often didn’t receive.
What surprised me is how central respect is for me. Part of me hoped I had grown beyond needing it—that it was just an ego attachment. “What does it matter what others think of me if I know who I am?” And there’s the rub.
I’ve realized most of the respect I was chasing wasn’t about others at all—it was self-respect. It is hard to overcome a parent’s pronouncement that you’re “brain damaged.” It’s hard to respect yourself when the only reflection you see is the distorted image handed back by others—an image of what they were told you are, not who you truly are.
I know this warped self-image is the main reason I never found the courage to approach the girl I loved. The good news: I’ve largely learned to respect myself—to see a very intelligent, kind, spiritual person worthy of my own respect and, yes, of others’ respect too.
At least, I think so. There’s still a part of me that fears slipping backward—fearing that my intelligence wasn’t real, or that my medical issues have taken it from me.
How am I doing?
Overall, I’ve done well at earning my own respect and that of others. People I work with respect my abilities, and friends seem to respect the person I am.
What still stings is the lack of respect I often felt in my marriage—not just the addiction and the destructive choices, but the absence of care. I believe “care” is a verb. To say “I care for you” means you do something to care for the person. I cared for my wife every day; I rarely felt cared for in return. Recovering from cancer surgery, I longed for the simplest tenderness—a meal, a bit of help. That absence deepened my sense of failure.
I don’t like to think I care what people think of me—but at some level we all do. In emergency rooms, advocating for my wife, I worried physicians would judge me by her choices and withhold respect—and information—accordingly.
My biggest concern for self-respect now is the future. I’ve worked hard to bring my mind to this place, and I don’t want to be “Flowers for Algernon.” Some days I notice lapses—especially in speech. Ironically, my wife once said I sounded angry because I enunciated so precisely. Oh, how I wish I could do that today.
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