5 Lessons From Year 23

Written By Chani Krinsky

In 2014, Matthew McConaughey won an Oscar for his performance in Dallas Buyers Club. In his acceptance speech, he described the three things he needs every day, “someone to look up to, something to look forward to, and someone to chase”. 

When Matthew was a teenager, he was asked who his hero was. The question sparked some introspection, causing him to realize that his hero was himself in ten years’ time. In ten years, it would be another ten, because the person that Matthew chases is a better version of himself. 

We never become who we think we’ll be. At every age, we push ourselves to be and do better. I don’t need to look back as far as a decade, this past year is enough to show me how unexpected life can be. On this October 1, to commemorate my birthday, I’m looking back at some of the moments in Year 23, and how they helped me get closer to becoming my hero. 

We’ll go in chronological order. 

The Trip to Harpersfield, NY

There was no special occasion for it. It was simply that we finally got our act together and were all available. There were six of us. We used to hang out nearly every weekend, and for this one, we decided to go to upstate New York for a change of scenery. 

It was February, so everything was covered in snow. Whatever it is that you imagine when you think of a cozy, woodsy home, this was it. We barely left the house. We ate and drank and played games and watched the Netflix documentary about Aaron Hernandez. It was spectacular because the company was spectacular, but there was nothing remarkable about it. 

Here’s why it’s on the list. 

A month later, the Coronavirus pandemic hit New York. I got the virus, as did some others in the group. We all quarantined, and imagined that in a few weeks we’d all be able to hang out together again. 

Not quite what happened. 

It’s been over six months since then. One of my friends is still sick. He is young, strong, and was otherwise healthy. He is thankfully not in hospital, but is unable to travel or spend time with us like he used to. 

He will get better. And when he does, him and his wife are leaving New York City. 

When we made plans to go to Harpersfield, we had no intention of the weekend being important. In February, we thought we’d be going away together a few more times over the coming months. We didn’t imagine that this trip would be the last.

But you can’t plan for everything. The everyday moments that become remarkable only do so when they’re memories.

Lesson #1: Give every moment your full attention. You don’t know if it will later be seen as remarkable. 

Pivot, Pivot, Pivot 

Something else happened in February. It was, coincidentally, the Tuesday after my trip to Harpersfield. I started a new job as the first US marketing hire for igloohome, a smart lock company based out of Singapore. 

The company had been pushed into hiring a marketer for an upcoming campaign. As a partner of Airbnb in southeast Asia, the brand was bringing that relationship to the United States.

The campaign was already in motion on my first day. I started by playing catch-up. I learned by doing and asking questions. For the next few weeks, it was long hours and complete focus on making the deadline that Airbnb had set. 

Then came March 4.

Covid-19 had already affected the southeast Asian market. Our Airbnb contact sent us an email. 

The campaign was delayed due to the pandemic. 

To say that I knew what was coming would be a lie. But I also knew that this was going to affect travel for longer than a few weeks. Airbnb was part of an industry that was impacted from the start. We were hearing the news out of Singapore, and it wasn’t great. 

We couldn’t wait for them to hit play. We had to do a complete 180. 

Had all that work gone to waste? Maybe not. In an ideal future, the program will get picked up again. In March, that didn’t matter. I couldn’t dwell on it. The plans had to change. Our vision had to change. Our attitude had to change. 

I had to adjust. New job. Pandemic. New plan. New work. 

So lesson #2: Pivot and don’t dwell on it. 

The Dental Implant 

When my parents got married, they made a deal. Their children would get the best of them- that meant we’d have my father’s teeth and my mother’s eyes. My father had eye surgery at three, and my mother has had almost every dental procedure invented. 

Out of all their children, I’m the only one to have both bad eyesight and bad teeth. So that meant that I, in my early 20’s, was being told by my dentist that I had to have my tooth pulled and would need a dental implant. 

This was after multiple visits to try and save the tooth. Let’s just say that my dentist takes way too much of my money. 

As I’m writing this, the saga isn’t over yet. A dental implant takes place over four appointments. First, get the tooth pulled. Then, drill a screw into your jaw. Then, have a crown fitted. Then, have the crown put in. 

And I hate the dentist. As you can probably tell by now, that fear isn’t irrational. I hear bad news in that place. 

The thing is, throughout the process, my mind was my enemy more than the dentist’s chair ever was. Before every appointment, I imagined how painful it would be. Before every procedure began, I felt physically ill. 

But they weren’t actually painful. The worst part of it all was the fear I lived in beforehand. I created that fear. It lasted longer than any appointment did, and it’s my choice to fight against it. 

Lesson #3: Whatever it is that scares you, the fear you create is far worse than the thing itself. 

The fear can be justified. You can still choose not to let it control you, however rational it is. 

Joining the Twitter Train 

This could definitely be its own post. There’s a lot I could go into here. How and why I started becoming active on Twitter, how my involvement on the platform evolved, and what I’ve learned from it as a person and marketer. 

Instead, for this post, I’m going to focus on one, very small aspect of what I’ve learned. 

On May 6th, my friend Cullin McGrath posted this tweet: 

When I saw it, my immediate reaction was to keep scrolling. But I paused. My reaction had been a reflex, exactly where I was comfortable. I realized that being a person so unlikely to respond was exactly why I had to. I’m competitive against myself, you see.

And that’s exactly what I told Cullin.

Turns out, he was a really interesting guy. He continued talking to me even after I told him I don’t like The Office and have never seen the Harry Potter movies. I suddenly realized how many incredible people I could be connecting with through the internet.

I’m still not comfortable with it. That’s exactly the point. I do it anyway. Since my first meeting with Cullin, I’ve had 12 meetings with people I met on Twitter. I’ve been part of group Zoom calls and even took the plunge to meet a few people in real life. 

When you reach out to someone, the worst case scenario is being ignored. I’m strong enough for that. What I have learned from these people is so much bigger and greater than the discomfort I feel. 

Lesson #4: Get uncomfortable. It’s worth it. 

Graduating in My Living Room

There’s been a lot of conversation about college recently. It’s too expensive, invaluable, and you just don’t need it. College was not a choice I made thoughtlessly. Since it wasn’t the norm in the community I grew up in, attending was an active decision.

Two and a half years after I graduated high school, I started my college journey at Baruch College in New York City. I worked every single day that I wasn’t in classes and paid my way through.

This story is not about my decision to go to college. It’s about my graduation. As a freshman, I imagined who I would be in four years' time. What I would know. What I would be confident about. I imagined the graduation ceremony, the excitement, the pride. 

2020 had different plans. I graduated in my living room. With no pomp and circumstance. After it happened, I didn’t feel any different. Graduating wasn’t a magical moment that had made me more confident or more knowledgeable. 

Having an anticlimactic graduation was a reminder. There is no event or piece of paper that can make you feel differently about yourself. We choose what to take from our experiences. We choose how confident we are.

I didn’t need confetti in a big stadium to be proud of myself. What I accomplished was for me to value. The knowledge from it was for me to learn.

The final lesson: It comes from within. 

Cheers to 24

At first glance, some of these moments seem bigger than others. Graduating college vs a weekend upstate? Some of them are unbelievably dry and boring. Getting a dental implant, I’m looking at you. 

Some of our biggest lessons don’t come from our biggest moments. Or the most exciting ones. It’s what we take from the day in, day out that really matters. 

I’m not going to predict what next year will bring. There’s no way I’ll get it right. But in Year 24 I’ll keep chasing. 

Chani Krinsky
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