Lately, I’ve found that one of the best forms of seeking comfort is as simple as switching on your old favorites on your Netflix queue. Among those, of course, is a wide range of dark comedies to early 2000s network comedies to a sprinkling of dramas hailed by the likes of Don Draper and Piper Chapman. But back to those early 2000s network comedies: two of my personal favorites, despite their questionable last few seasons, will always and forever be “The Office,” which is probably my favorite show of all time, and “How I Met Your Mother.”

“The Office” is without a doubt the greatest comedy of its era in writers, directors, actors, the complete package: it’s a workplace comedy where nothing ever changes and smaller, sillier storylines are generally more favored than the longer ones, meaning you, as a viewer, could pretty much jump in when and wherever. Meanwhile, though I have a bit of a love turned to strong dislike relationship with it (hate is a strong word only reserved for the finale and one character in particular- but more on that later, said Ted), “How I Met Your Mother” has earned the right of a modern classic. This is mostly attributed to the actors, without a doubt, as the writing went from strong to a little iffy and storylines got a little muddled. Regardless, this show was there for me at a pretty pivotal time in my life: I began the binge my last year of high school. I distinctly remember trying to squeeze into my graduation dress with a bad zipper while watching Marshall face his father’s funeral.

Anyway, regardless of my general feeling about these shows, which is mostly love, the bright spots shine particularly on two of my favorite characters: Pam Beesly and Lily Aldrin. I don’t know if I identify with them so closely because they remind me of my mom, or even of myself, or because of their killer delivery, but these ladies are heroes, in my eyes. They have a lot in common: a lovable, funny romantic partner, general witty remarks, but namely, they both had dreams of being renowned artists, or at least good enough in the eyes of the public to make a living from such, and, by societies standards, failed. But that wasn’t the end of their stories.

Here’s what I learned from them:

1. Sometimes, you have to make your own definition of success.

Both ladies failed out of their respective formal art programs: Pam at Pratt in season 5; and though I don’t think Lily specifically flunked out, she up and left her art fellowship in San Fransisco in a hurry between seasons one and two. Both got tired of playing the game: they liked what they did and thought highly enough of their work, but society kept saying no. As an aspiring artist myself, I know first-hand how hard it is to keep on truckin’, despite the boatloads of rejection: honestly, auditions become exhausting and you start wondering, why am I even still here? You keep telling yourself that it doesn’t mean you don’t have what it takes because you know you do, but it’s like beating a dead horse at a certain point trying to get others to agree with you. Often in life, you have to make your own success. When the chips were down, peddled your wares elsewhere. If you’re on the wrong road, forge another.

This doesn’t at all mean you’re giving up, and Pam and Lily most certainly didn’t. They did, however, realize that society’s standards may not be the validation they needed. They could still be artists by their own standards and be happy. Is it settling? In a way, maybe, but again, you have to make your own definition of success that makes you happy, because your happiness dictates your passage of life.

2. You’ve gotta have a cheering section.

Both Pam and Lily believed in themselves, and so did those who really mattered to them: come on, Jim and Marshall were the only cheering section they needed. When the going got rough, these wonderful gentlemen were always there for their respective partners with full love and support.

Even before they were together, Jim fully supported Pam’s dream of pursuing art school, even when her fiancee (curse you, Roy) didn’t. And then they got together (praise), he didn’t hesitate to push their engagement until after she finished at Pratt. And then when she failed out of Pratt and decided to come back to Scranton, he didn’t judge her, didn’t ask her to reconsider, and put together a freaking art studio in their garage for her. Get yourself a man who can do both.

Meanwhile, Marshall supported Lily from day one in her pursuit of renowned artistry (who could forget the nude art incident?). She was so serious about going for her dream that she ended her nine-year relationship with Marshall to try her hand at an art fellowship across the country in San Fransisco. But once she was back and they reconciled, he did everything he could to support her. When they needed money for their new apartment and selling her paintings wasn’t working out, she was devastated. So, being the wonderful human that he is, Marshall set up an online site to sell her work when they found a market for it.

Bottom line: believing in yourself only means so much if you don’t have someone by your side, whether it be a partner, a parent, a best friend, sibling, what have you. It always helps to have an ally.

3. Your dream can change, and that’s totally and completely okay.

For so long, both Pam and Lily dreamed of being professional artists, or at least good enough to make a living on it. When it didn’t work out, they got tired of trying and moved on with their lives. And they were perfectly happy. Though their once dreams became more of hobbies as they got married, started a family, advanced in their day jobs, etc., they never stopped doing what they loved.

It takes a lot to be willing to face the fact that your dream may be changing in pursuit of your own happiness elsewhere: it doesn’t mean what was once top priority isn’t still important to you, but you realize your efforts really took a toll on your happiness.

Bottom line: it’s okay if your dream minimizes. Maybe you’ll find something else you love that makes you perfectly happy, and may be a little more lucrative. People change, and with them, so do they things they want most. And that’s so okay.

So, in conclusion, that was a lot, I know. There’s so much to take away from these fictional “failed” artists, namely being that “failed” doesn’t mean “failed”. You decide what success means for you, and if the pursuit of such is not making your happy, figure out a way that does. Society dictates many things, but what it doesn’t dictate is what it takes to make you happy and what you’re willing to do to get there. Sometimes, you have to come back the wrong way.