For the past couple of weeks I’ve been contemplating the idea of success and making it in life. (of course, that week between Christmas and New Year is omitted from this contemplation because, let’s face it, we don’t know what day it is, who has energy for an existential crisis?)

As I soon celebrate a year of moving back to my home town to start adulting, I can’t help but wonder (insert Carrie Bradshaw’s voice) if I’m on the right path. Questioning all my decisions and constantly feeling a combo of “it’s not enough” and “is this all it’s ever going to be”, I decided to dig deeper and try to understand where it’s all coming from.

The first thought that crossed my mind was what impact society, and by society I mean movies, has on me. Even though I love a good bildungsroman, it really fucks up your expectations and your perceptions of success. Let’s take Erin Brockovich, for example. What can be more empowering than the idea that a woman who came from nothing, no higher education, no wealthy parents, no supportive partner, just her brains and her courage, just her kids and the neighbor who babysit them from time to time, just her balls and her realness, a woman like this could end up saving the world. It made me associate struggle with worth. It made me think that if you don’t suffer enough to obtain something, you are not worthy to have it. Personal or professional, emotional or pragmatic, people wise or property wise, you have to fight for it.

Many movies have this in common. Even The Devil Wears Prada has this underlying idea. We have to appreciate Andrea’s effort to lose weight, to walk on heels, to accessorize, to understand the fashion industry and to stand up to Miranda Priestly. One word: bildungsroman. She made it happen, she beat the odds, she struggled and she succeeded.

Think of Good Will Hunting. What can be more bildungsromanesque than the struggle of a young janitor at M.I.T. who happens to be a brilliant mathematician. Maybe Matt Damon and Ben Affleck’s stories. Even though, in the end, he chooses the girl over the job, he struggles to prove his worth. Do you see it, yet again? Struggle and worth, the fatal combo.

Let’s not forget that books, movies and shows are made to impress, attract and, ultimately, bring in the big bucks. Who would want to sit two hours in a cinema watching someone effortlessly make it through life? It has no cinematic value, so it has no cash value.

If we go further back with this analysis and try to escape the story told by the movies, we see that, in fact, the story told by society is pretty much the same.

Van Gogh was poor and ill and died, ear cut off and all that, at a young age. Manet was born upper-class and had all the privileges. Even though the latter may be one of the founding fathers of Impressionism, we empathize with van Gogh more. Look at the talent and look at the struggle, what an amazing, worthy artist. For God’s sake, he cut off his ear, his struggle must be worth it!

Sure, Balzac and Tolstoy are both prominent literary figures, but imagine this. A French poor artist being paid by word, living from paycheck to paycheck, eating and drinking off his friends, sleeping in brothels and falling ill most of the times versus a wealthy Russian author, son of a count, living well, having the comfort of Yasnaya Polyana to write his masterpieces. Who do you find more worthy? Who do you appreciate more? Who do you feel is more deserving of your empathy and appreciation?

After analyzing these aspects, something hit me. When the stories are told, nobody tells you what you should feel. The story is just told, objectively or subjectively, it is just told. The feelings, well, they come from you. So, all that pressure to be worthy, all that pressure to struggle and overcome obstacles, that comes from you. Society may show us these stories, but we are the ones who let them affect us and propagate the wrong mentality.

It’s me, hi, I’m the problem, it’s me. Well, yes, Taylor, you are again right. We are the only ones responsible for our well-being. Why is it easier to feed the bad, the tragic, the self-deprecating, the blame, the tragic? Is it an inheritance from the Greek to dwell on tragedy or is it an inherently easier way to cope with life?

Whatever the answer, we all deserve to feel worthy. I’m worthy because last week I walked more steps than the previous one. I’m worthy because six months ago taking a shower was challenge and now it has returned to being a pleasure. I’m worthy because I’m calmer and more flexible. I’m worthy because I didn’t give up. I could sit here and type away a thousand reasons for which I’m worthy. But you know what? I’m worthy just because… just because I am.