How We Know if We're Good Enough

On the search for an ultimate judgment

For years in my academic career, every paper I gave felt like I was walking a tightrope over an abyss. Any exposure of my ideas was a referendum on whether I was a star or a nonentity. And even though it mostly went well, I never felt good for long. There was always another abyss to cross.

When we feel this way, it makes sense that we set our sights on some future day when there will be no more tightropes on the horizon. At that point, we think, we'll be so undeniably accomplished that no one will doubt we’ve got what it takes, most importantly ourselves.

I call this longed-for location Scepter Island, because it seems to promise we’ll be enthroned on some higher plane of achievement. We’ll be anointed as good enough in a way that feels permanent and unquestionable.

Trying to get to Scepter Island more or less drove my entire academic career. So I know first-hand that chasing that goal can screw up your relationship to the very thing you once loved doing.

And that’s for one very basic reason: Scepter Island is bullshit. And once you see why that’s true, it becomes clear how crucial and freeing it is to leave this fantasy behind.

The impossible final word

Why is Scepter Island bullshit? So many reasons, but I’m going to give you the three key ones.

Reason 1: Dopamine highs do not wipe out existing habitual thought patterns.

Trying to get to Scepter Island means years of wiring our brains with default thoughts like, When I achieve X, I’ll have proven I’m really good at this, where X is some major milestone or goal.

The problem is, achievement doesn’t create new thought patterns on its own.

Let’s say you hit a big-time goal in your field. The dopamine hit on the day makes you so elated you feel like you must have done it: Scepter Island Mode unlocked.

But the high doesn’t actually change our default thoughts about ourselves. Because for that, we’d need to think new, different thoughts over and over. They’d need to be at least as habitual than the ‘Soon I’ll know I’m good enough’ thought.

Which means all too soon, the dopamine wears off, our usual thoughts kick in, and we feel exactly the same as we did before the milestone.

This is why, I think, so many people seem to go off the rails right at what looks like a pinnacle of achievement. They got to what they thought was Scepter Island, and they felt just as shitty as they always had. No wonder so many people wind up in rehab right after hitting it big.

Reason 2. The same brain we are trying to change with outside evidence also judges the evidence.

What about people who are so celebrated they basically ARE being followed around 24/7 being told how fantastic they are? Wouldn’t that be habitual enough to change their thoughts?

Only if they believe what they’re being told. Think about it: if being constantly praised could automatically change our default thoughts, then so many famous geniuses wouldn’t self-destruct before they hit 40.

In fact, if your brain defaults to worrying that you’re not good enough, constant praise can just put you on a different kind of tightrope. There’s such a giant mismatch between how you feel inside and what everyone is saying outside that you can’t help but think they’ve made a big mistake. And you’re terrified they’re going to find out any minute.

We use the same brain that doesn’t think we’re good enough to evaluate the evidence we receive. And that brain is designed to discount data that doesn’t fit our existing assumptions. (This doesn’t mean we can’t change Scepter Island thinking, just that achievement won’t do it.)

Reason 3. There is no Ultimate Court of Greatness

Let’s say you get what feels like unassailable evidence you’re one of the greats, and you’re actually able to believe it for a while. The problem is, that’s not the last bit of evidence you’re ever going to get.

That's just how time works. Things keep happening, people keep having opinions, you do more stuff, which might be celebrated or not. Think of people who seem to be totally adored and then just abruptly fall out of fashion, only to be rediscovered 20 years later. Which ruling are they supposed to believe? And then there’s the fact that some people never get their due because of forces like sexism and racism, no matter how talented they are.

Every marker of greatness is dispensed by fallible humans, with subjective and changeable and time-bound perspectives. There is no Ultimate Court of Greatness deciding on acceptance to Scepter Island. It’s just people with opinions all the way down. 

What’s on the other side

At this point, people often ask, But what about those ultra-celebrated people who just seem to glow with wisdom and calm and authority? Doesn’t that come from being on Scepter Island?

I actually think that glow comes from knowing Scepter Island is bullshit.

Here’s why: when you get a huge amount of adulation, I think you learn pretty quickly how little it actually means about the quality of your work. That’s because the more fans you have, the clearer it becomes that their adoration is more about them than you. (Yes, some celebs do believe their fans, but do they seem wise and chill to you?)

And, once you know that there’s no Ultimate Court of Greatness, then you’re no longer teetering over an abyss, waiting to hear if you’re going to fall in. You don’t have to be constantly second-guessing what other people will think. You’re free to just do stuff. You can break the mould, take big intellectual or artistic risks. Sure, it’s fun when folks think you’re great, but ultimately it’s still just people with opinions. If they change their minds, it doesn’t change anything about the work itself.

I mean, who wouldn’t seem wise and chill with all that weight off?

Going off the map

So why keep doing hard stuff, if we’re never going to get to Scepter Island anyway?

Maybe because, at the end of the day, doing challenging stuff is just more interesting than not doing challenging stuff. Because putting work you think is good into the world seems inherently worth the time and effort. Because some problems seem like they’re yours to solve. Because life is short, and we’re all going to be dead for a very, very long time.

Whatever you decide, just don’t spend the rest of that finite time trying to get to Scepter Island.

Because, honestly: fuck Scepter Island. You weren’t meant to aim your work, much less your entire being, toward some Ultimate Court of Greatness that doesn’t even exist.

Make your stuff, do your work, because you want to. There is ultimately no better reason because there is ultimately no other reason.

I promise you, it will be so much more rewarding than chasing Scepter Island. When things you do don’t work and you feel frustrated and glum for a while, you still won’t feel like your emotional survival is at stake. And when things turn out so well that it feels like you tapped into something magical, you won’t be trying to turn that into a final ruling either. You’ll relish it because you’ll know how fleeting and rare those moments are. Because when the stars align, it’s not all down to us. The stars have a say too. 

And underneath those ups and downs, you’ll have that glow of authority we so often mistake for life on Scepter Island. You won’t be racing toward some mythic receding horizon. You’ll be right there, doing your stuff, exactly where you are meant to be.

Sign up for the July workshop on Overcoming Internal Resistance.