A New Definition of Success

What happens when you actually get what you’ve worked so hard for but can’t seem to receive it? 

I remember the exact moment when I realized that I already had all the things I’ve been ceaselessly grinding toward for years. I have an incredible job and work with an amazing team. We build things we are proud of and work with clients who we are so proud to support. My kids no longer need me for absolutely everything, yet still need me for enough things to keep me feeling close. I can work from anywhere, which meant my long-held dream of living in Europe with my family became a reality. I am young enough to stay active and fit, but not so young that I take my health for granted. I am no longer a newlywed, yet still like my husband a whole lot. We’re not so broke that buying nice coffee feels reckless, but not so wealthy that I don’t spend hours trying to find us the cheapest flights (there are five of us, after all!).

By all accounts, I’ve made it. But I couldn’t seem to feel it. I had what I worked for, but not the peace I imagined would come with it.

I grew up in the 80s hearing, “You can do anything you put your mind to.” Success was not optional. It was expected. And I have always been a classic hard worker, eager to show just how competent I could be. I had clear ideas of what being an adult meant: knowing what you’re doing, staying organized, checking the right boxes. I assumed that eventually I’d arrive at some magical place of confidence and clarity. But really it means asking ChatGPT how to clean the inside of my dryer.

Of course, I learned the hard way that adulthood is just a longer, more intense version of striving. In order to be worthy, there is always more. Do more. Earn more. Rest better. Grow faster. Always more.

I’d tied my worth to my output so tightly, I didn’t know how to separate them. My ability to do is what allowed me to deserve the good things. They are inextricably linked, and so by definition, I could never do enough. The more I’ve opened up about this, the more I’ve learned from my peers and those in whose footsteps I follow. This is the grind that we glorify. 

My mom once joked, “When do we get to the sitting-on-the-porch-drinking-lemonade stage of life?” She’s a textbook doer, always in motion. Neither of us really likes lemonade but the point stands. I’ve thought about her offhand comment countless times and have come to believe that this stage never arrives without meaningful, intentional shifts. Not just in how we spend our time, but in how we think about time. About success. About worth.

It wasn’t until my left eye was consistently twitching and I was losing sleep over my to-do list that I realized the hidden cost of doing it all [LINK] was coming due. At first, I felt like a failure because I couldn’t keep it up. There is a lot of guilt associated with thinking you’re letting down those you care about, and it hit me hard. I kept thinking if only I’d closed that deal or secured that funding, then it would have been different. I clearly hadn’t tried hard enough. 

Now I know I was not failing. I was performing, producing, and pushing. I was busy showing the world just how much I could handle, but the pace was unsustainable. I lived in a state of “almost” success for far too long and eventually it caught up to me. Looking back, it’s clear I needed to hit a sturdy, impenetrable wall to be forced to recognize my own limits. And to wonder, do I actually want success, as I’d always perceived it, if it means paying this price? 

Eventually, I began to consider that maybe the real work isn’t pushing forward. Maybe it’s letting ourselves enjoy what we already built. The more I’ve shared, the more others have invited me into their stories. And the good news is there is a common thread.

Ease is not the opposite of ambition. Growth is not bad; it’s the ever-present grasping that is the enemy. You can build a life you love to live, from steadiness instead of stress. 

As one of my mentors is fond of saying, you can actually have a breakout career without breaking yourself.  Maybe the real work isn’t pushing forward. Maybe it’s learning to enjoy what we already built. 

Ease is not the opposite of ambition. Growth isn’t the problem; it’s the constant grasping that wears us down. You can build a life you love to live, from steadiness instead of stress. And yes, you can have a breakout career without breaking yourself.

The leaders I admire most aren’t the ones who did it all alone. They’re the ones who built systems, support, and space so they could keep showing up calm, clear, and human.

That kind of success is available. But only if we stop trying to earn it all the time.

What if you’re already there and just need to let yourself feel it?