Why Happiness Lies In The Journey, Not The Destination.

I have spent more years than I care to remember terrified that I was “never going to make it”. My youth was consumed by those two words - “making it.” The fear of failure kept me awake at night, tossing and turning on sweat-soaked bed sheets. I even experienced panic attacks and heart palpitations. I was a grim spectre as I stalked the streets, shoulders hunched, Eminem’s “Lose Yourself” playing on a loop in my head:

“Success is my only motherfuckin' option, failure's not.”

The fear drove me to sacrifice everything: friendships, relationships, health, my sanity. Looking back, I can understand why; I was broke in my mid-thirties, juggling four jobs with no savings or safety net. Shame dogged every aspect of my life, from my living situation to my personal relationships. You could read defeat in my posture.

But this idea of “making it” kept me going. That moment of transcendence, when my problems would disappear and my life would truly begin.

Needless to say, that’s bullshit. “Making it” is a myth - sometimes a helpful one, but a myth nonetheless. The truth is, no amount of success or money will ever definitively feel like enough. There is no specific level in life at which contentment suddenly kicks in - because life is not a video game. Rather, it’s a constant process of refinement - of trying, failing and improving. It’s failure, far more than success, that shapes us.

Nowadays, people often slap me on the back and call me a “success”. I’ve accomplished things that my younger self couldn’t have dreamt of, and I’m proud of that. But to be honest, I don’t feel all that different from how I used to, during those long years when I considered myself a failure. Sure, some things have gotten easier, but I certainly don’t feel that I can kick back and relax now. In some ways, I feel more stressed at the prospect of losing what I have than I ever felt when I had nothing.

One line in Rudyard Kipling’s famous poem “If” reads:

“If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster

And treat those two imposters just the same”

The real question is not whether you succeed or fail - it’s whether you’re learning and growing. “Triumph” can breed complacency, and “Disaster” can engender hopelessness - both extremely unhelpful attitudes. It seems counterintuitive, but it’s the feeling of working towards a meaningful goal that brings true fulfillment - not the actual attainment of the goal.

My YouTube show TRIGGERnometry is doing very well, but its success is built on the back of countless endeavours that went nowhere. And in my comedy career, failure is a constant companion. Most of the jokes I write simply don’t work in front of an audience, but the only way to find that out is to perform them in front of said audience. I can’t count the number of times I’ve left the stage crestfallen, questioning if I even know anything about comedy. Bad jokes are not just awkward; they can be downright disastrous. I once did a routine about my mother being misdiagnosed with pancreatic cancer that went so badly it caused an enraged audience member to burst into tears. I plodded on through my set as his girlfriend furiously eyeballed me, then went and hid in the green room for the rest of the night. At that point in time, I was far enough along to call myself a professional comedian but believe me, I didn’t feel like one. The purpose of comedy is not to make a grown man cry - unless you’re at a Hannah Gadsby show. Nevertheless, it’s experiences like these that have made me a better comedian; you don’t learn anywhere near as much from the shows that go well.

It’s crucial to give yourself new challenges (no matter how old you get) and to recognise those challenges for what they are: growth opportunities. When I started writing the book I’m currently working on, I was all het up about whether or not it would be successful. But that’s not in my control. All I can do is put my all in and hope it resonates. And I mustn’t forget that it’s the process of writing the book that will yield true value; it will teach me patience, improve my writing style, help me exorcise demons, and so much more.

Additionally, I’ve started a new YouTube channel which currently has 6,000 subscribers and almost 10,000 views on a few videos.

These are tiny numbers compared to TRIGGERnometry, but the channel is growing steadily while allowing me to showcase a different side of myself. Whether it carries on growing or ultimately fails, I’ve already learned a huge amount doing it - and enjoyed myself immensely.

And - at the ripe old age of 42 - I’m finally learning how to drive. And it’s awful. Wheels have been scraped, wing mirrors clipped, and accidents avoided by a hair’s breadth. I just can’t seem to get to grips with it, and find the whole process daunting and humiliating. However, it’s a great example of how the most painful experiences can yield the most useful insights. After one particularly bad lesson my instructor told me, “You focus too much on your mistakes. You need to accept them and move on, or you’ll never improve.” I’ve been told that before, but this time it really hit home. I’ve wasted a big chunk of my life nurturing this negative mindset, and it took the experience of navigating a roundabout in Kent - while irate van drivers screamed sexual obscenities about my mother - to truly make me realise it.

Ultimately, I’ve learned not to worry about “success” or “making it”. I focus instead on the process - making incremental improvements, not cowering from tough challenges, and using my time in the best way possible. Rather than chase “success”, focus on these things and be consistent - then “success” will chase you.

I want to end with the final lines from “If”, as they convey this far better than I ever could:

“If you can fill the unforgiving minute

With sixty seconds’ worth of distance run,

Yours is the Earth and everything that’s in it,

And - which is more - you’ll be a Man, my son!”