A few months ago, my uncle died. To the outside world, he was very well put together, eloquent, and admired by all who knew him. Worked on physics books as a proofreader for a major publisher his whole life and was celebrated for his work. He was a recluse, but very sociable and an excellent go-between for any socially difficult situation, a real keeper of the peace.
When I went to clear his home, I discovered that his personal space was the opposite of all the above. Dirty, messy, not well organized.
Of all the people I ever expected that from, it wasn't him, but he did an excellent job of appearing to have his shit together.
I shared this with a few others who had late family members that had done very well in their respective field, and the sentiment was the same: nobody ever really seems to get their shit together, they just get better at presenting the parts of themselves that matter.
I'll give you a small anecdote.
A few months ago, my uncle died. To the outside world, he was very well put together, eloquent, and admired by all who knew him. Worked on physics books as a proofreader for a major publisher his whole life and was celebrated for his work. He was a recluse, but very sociable and an excellent go-between for any socially difficult situation, a real keeper of the peace.
When I went to clear his home, I discovered that his personal space was the opposite of all the above. Dirty, messy, not well organized.
Of all the people I ever expected that from, it wasn't him, but he did an excellent job of appearing to have his shit together.
I shared this with a few others who had late family members that had done very well in their respective field, and the sentiment was the same: nobody ever really seems to get their shit together, they just get better at presenting the parts of themselves that matter.
He was a very happy soul.