I’m getting fed up with measures of success that are foisted on us.

Not because I’m averse to setting standards or expectations … I am actually pretty keen on setting goals, or having ways to evaluate the impact of various aspects of our lives.

But so many of the metrics that determine “success” in our wider world are out of whack and don’t align with the values that many of us would identify as paramount. We’ve been hoodwinked into thinking that clicks ’n likes ’n swipes ’n followers — and being able to watch an investment portfolio tick upward, or drop bills on a second home or a big machine toy — is “success.” Never mind that the followers mostly don’t give two hoots about us, the portfolios are often not representing something tangible, and bills are spent on items that are under-used, overpriced and frequently have negative side impacts.

The arbitrary nature of imposed “successes” became super-evident after my spinal cord injury. From the early days post-injury, all sorts of people — friends, family, therapists, randos at the grocery store — dump THEIR ideas of success on you. Often it comes from good intentions, but the sources usually aren’t aware of their own biases. Are you gonna walk again? Can you have children? Will you be able to go back to work? Maybe someday roll in a marathon? God has great plans for you.

It gave me great pause. Because at the time, if I got through a day without puking up my guts, passing out, peeing or pooping on myself, or wanting to pull the plug, that was a hugely successful day!

I often describe my post-injury awakening as a gigantic façade falling: It was like I saw clearly for the first time the way the world was trying to force me into its idea of success, playing by its rules, measuring by its standards … most of which had no relevance for the unique details of MY life. I began to see it everywhere: the world telling you to place value on something, and if you don’t achieve it, you’re a big fat Zero.

I’m certainly a big Zero according to many metrics: kids birthed, marriages “I do”-d, marathons run, PhDs bestowed, Oscars or Tonys awarded, inventions patented, six-figure salaries earned, trips to space taken.

According to these Zeroes, I might seem like a human devoid of wild success. But what about some other Zeroes: times fired from a job, people who have sued or divorced me, business dealings where I’ve ruined people’s lives … or fucks given about many trivial things.

Realities of “success” are more richly nuanced than the world that idolizes the abundance of Elon Musk or Taylor Swift. The Zero, or the absence of something, can also be success. Or, success can be found in un-replicated, exceptional experiences that only happen one time — ephemeral moments that mark your life. Success in less, rather than more.

I’ve had some memorable “Ones” that have left their mark on my story. One crash on a Vespa in Greece. One makeout session with a random dude in an Italian alley. One family homestay in Brazil. One adaptive rowing race completed (so far). One documentary directed. One move to a different state for love. One heart-wrenching break-up when that love went south.

Perhaps the Ones — the things we’ve done less but that carry great value — tell us something more profound about our story than the things we’ve racked up just because.

Particularly for those of us with disabilities, the measures-of-success game can feel diminishing, because the whole of society amplifies accomplishments that we don’t necessarily have access to, or that we frankly have moved beyond, given the deeper life experiences many of us have had.

Our unconventional successes are hard for some people to understand. For instance, some may see it as unsuccessful that I have not taken one step in 22 years … I haven’t regained the ability to walk. But, in the absence of walking, I have mastered the vocabulary, dynamics and skills of paraplegic body movement (including 100,000+ transfers in two decades). Boom, success.

And, what about the success of contributions we make to the well-being of our fellow humans? An essay by Sarah Churchwell from the George W. Bush Institute describes how America’s founders envisioned the “American Dream” not as money-money-money, but as richness of commonweal — well-being that is extended to and supported by all. If we value commonweal measures, we should be amplifying respect. Creativity. Love of family and friends. Showing up for each other. Building happiness according to our unique skills and interests. Giving something of ourselves. Valuing those things that lack clearly measured returns, and seeing how they overwhelmingly bring us more.

To me, the success of our lives should be in accordance with the values we set, that make our lives unique and extraordinary … not those that strangers in the outside world manipulate us into thinking are important because they benefit from selling us on consumption, fear or dissatisfaction.

So, when you sit back and take stock, what measures of success matter to you? What stories exist in your big fat Zeroes, exceptional Ones, or in the “less that became more”? Perhaps it’s the occasions you donated time or money with no reciprocal benefit. Floated in water. Smiled at someone, or were smiled at. Survived surgeries. Helped friends through rough patches. Laughed until you cried. Used your imagination to envision something beyond reality. Wondered about the stars. Felt butterflies. Or been in a moment where you told yourself, “I want to remember this forever.” And then forgot it.

Perhaps that’s the true measure of success: setting our own definitions of what makes a fulfilling life — not allowing someone else to dictate it.