DATE: Sunday, November 16, 1997             TAG: 9711140061

SECTION: DAILY BREAK             PAGE: E12  EDITION: FINAL 

COLUMN: IMPERFECT NAVIGATOR

SOURCE: ALEXANDRIA BERGER

                                            LENGTH:   69 lines

REAL SUCCESS IS MEASURED BY YOUR OWN SELF-WORTH

AMERICA IS a performance-addicted country. We rate achievement based on our perception of success.

Now, there are two ways to obtain success. The first is acquired by doing something the average ordinary guy can't do. For example, invent something no one thought of which makes billions, like a Bill Gates.

It can also come from being an athlete, movie or rock star, political figure, entertainer, or celebrity. In some circles you can marry one of these figures and gain it by osmosis. You get the drift.

If you're one of these people, you get additional prizes. Prestige and fame. People line up to laud, praise and extol you. You're a hot property, as they say in the performance trade.

But, without the second kind of success, which requires substance, you can wear out your fame, ruin your success, kill your prestige, and evaporate your people.

If you fall into this category, you're performance dependent. It demands the continual approval and conditional love of your people. Your identity is tied like a noose around your neck to others' expectations.

There is another downside to this kind of success. Should you become disabled, you might as well swallow the ``big pill.'' Because when life kicks you in the tush, which it always does, you won't make it.

Truly successful people know this. Achievements are not based on obtaining public adulation or approval. For one's survival, it is necessary to build a personal foundation set in concrete. It is called self-worth and esteem.

No matter your performance, you persevere using yourself as your only yard stick. Your identity is tied to no one. Failure or illness, disability or handicap does not deter you.

Seen as merely temporary or permanent detours, you accept these occurrences which act as learning tools for you to adapt and change. You assess setbacks, evaluate your attributes and flaws, reevaluate and set goals. You've learned you must invest in yourself and the process of life for the long haul.

By doing this, you create a definable, personal identity. You are performance independent. You demand self-approval and the unconditional love of those in your inner circle, who matter. We'd like to believe we're all like this. So when the unexpected occurs, like a disability or chronic illness, why do some of us fall apart?

Go easy. It has to do with age. Already traumatized by getting older, undergoing hormonal and image changes, is it any wonder we stress out by unforeseen changes?

Think of yourself as a pie. As we grow, we cut ourselves into slices or portions. This portion is our profession, that slice our public image. The older we are, the more difficult it is to accept change. If a slice or portion is suddenly removed, there's an instant hole.

We've had years to memorize how we look, function and identify ourselves. We need time to fill in the empty space by either expanding one of the portions or fitting a new slice into the empty slot. Some of our substance has been removed.

I've been there and here's what I've learned.

Gradual change is easier to handle. Give yourself time to mourn drastic changes. Then take an inventory of your pie, and determine which slices are missing.

Fill part of yourself with a ``flexibility,'' slice and devour it. When used up, refill it again and again.

Forget the old way. Redesign how you can do old things in new ways.

Stop looking at yourself in the mirror and remembering the old person. Maximize the new you with professional help.

Put away all of your old pictures for at least six months.

Say, ``I'm taking care of myself,'' to everyone who asks, ``What are you doing now?''

It's this second kind of success that gets us through the tough times.

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