On embracing mediocrity

And the case against striving for greatness.

While my Mom was staying with us for a visit, we were discussing the subject of college sports. She declared that I “could have played tennis in college” to which I replied “no I could not.”

She was very sure that I could have been a tennis player at URI where I went to school (a Division 1 college). I know very well that isn’t the case. I was a decent Division 3 player, in high school. I assure you, I am fine with that.

But the conversation got me thinking about something that’s been on my mind a lot lately. Why is there so much pressure to always strive for greatness? And what exactly is wrong with mediocrity?

We can’t all be Simone Biles or Katie Ledecky or to take it down a notch, a D1 college tennis player. And yet, generally society pushes us to achieve greatness (or at least want to) because anything less is just, un-American.

In the same way that people defend billionaires because they think they could be one (it’s a 1 in 3 million chance, but 60% of Americans aspire to be a billionaire and 44% believe they can actually do it), American culture pushes us to strive and monetize.

You know how much I love Amazon, and this year’s Prime Day hit a record $14 billion in sales. People bought a lot of $hit, and I mean that literally. What does striving have to do with consumption? Capitalism doesn’t profit off your time in nature or being happy with what you already have.

While there has been some pushback on “hustle culture” of the late 90s and early 2000s, there’s no real signs of burnout, stress or depression slowing down.

Which is not surprising, because in a country with no social safety net, embracing mediocrity can be a privilege.

Jamie Ducharme writes in her case for mediocrity:

Checking out of the greatness grind often requires a safety net that millions of Americans living paycheck to paycheck or in poverty simply don't have. It is one thing to tell someone who is already financially comfortable that money can’t buy happiness. But what about someone struggling to pay the rent or put food on the table? How could anyone tell them to be content with less?

I have been a striver/perfectionist for most of my life. A good student, a 3 sport athlete (my senior superlative was “most likely to be a millionaire” 🫠), a working two jobs in college and taking extra classes to graduate early kind of kid. An oldest daughter if you will. I continued this through my corporate job, and then into my career as an influencer.

It wasn’t until I had a traumatic pregnancy and postpartum that I was forced to reckon with all the decisions and behaviors that had led me to that point. It took me years to process (I still am), and it was only recently, with the decision to walk away from influencing, that I started to question why I was always striving for more. Even writing that feels a little bit wrong, like a betrayal of myself.