When my first book was published, in 2016, it did very well.

Just before it was available in stores and online, I was on national television to talk about my life, addiction, depression, and writing.

That spontaneous appearance gave the launch a big boost.

It was pretty amazing.

For weeks I went to the largest bookstore in Amsterdam and checked my book that was presented in big numbers on a huge wall, and I walked around, dwelling in this new adventure.

There were more television appearances, I was on the radio, appeared on podcasts and in quite a few newspapers.

It was a dream debut.

At the same time American author Mark Manson published ‘The Subtle Art of Not Giving a F*ck’.

And while my book was generally available in many stores around that time, selling steadily, his first one was literally EVERYWHERE.

The success I had was totally, completely, absolutely dwarfed by his phenomenal sales.

It completely pushed my contentment away.

It watered down my excitement.

And I almost hated Mark Manson, for years.

My book eventually sold 10,000 copies (which means bestseller status in the Netherlands), while his book sold a million, at first, and then way over that amount, to become one of the biggest self-help successes ever.

While my book silently left the shelves in the stores after a few months, his book kept being available.

For years.

Like I said: it was everywhere.

I saw it in huge orange piles at the airport.

In orange piles in stores in the UK, in Denmark, in Spain.

And even when I flew to Norway last Tuesday, six years after it was published, Manson’s book was still there, prominently displayed in the bookstores of Amsterdam Airport.

Having that book as a constant factor in my life since 2016, and as a relative but sharp contrast to my writing endeavors, has been an interesting, challenging thing.

Like I said: I’ve been really, really jealous, even angry and disappointed, for a couple of years.

The dream debut I was given had found its ultimate master, big time, and it changed my appreciation for what I’d accomplished in the worst way possible.

But of course it also taught me shit.

This morning when I checked LinkedIn and saw almost everybody engaged in amazing programs, awesome webinars, juicy podcasts, and ridiculously successful commercial ventures, I was reminded of my Manson experience.

This is what happens to us and with us, human beings.

It’s part of the fucked up experience.

We can be totally living the dream, only to come across someone living a way bigger one.

I’m not going to draw any moral conclusions here.

And I’m also not going to say you should cherish what you have.

You’re smart enough to come up with your own stuff here.

It’s just that sometimes life sucks, even when it really doesn’t.

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(Photo by @swetabh, for Unsplash)