The Success Myth I Had to Unlearn to Actually Succeed

Success used to wear a suit, drive a German car, and answer emails at midnight. It took me years — and nearly everything I had — to realize that wasn’t success at all.

I. The Blueprint

I was raised on the blueprint of success:

Go to a good school.

Get a good job.

Work harder than everyone else.

Climb the ladder.

Make six figures.

Buy the condo.

Drive the car.

Post the life.

Then you’ll be happy. Then you’ll be somebody.

So I followed it.

Straight A’s. Dean’s list. Internship with the right name on the door. A job offer before graduation. A starting salary that made my parents beam. At 24, I was already playing in the big leagues. And for a while, it felt good — addictively so.

I wore my overwork like a badge of honor. "I haven’t slept in two days," I'd laugh, as if that made me valuable. As if the more I sacrificed, the more worthy I became.

But the truth is: I was eroding. Quietly. Completely.

II. The Quiet Cracks

The cracks didn’t show up all at once. They whispered in subtle ways.

Like how I’d dread Sundays because Monday was always a monster waiting behind the door.

Or how I’d scroll through Instagram at midnight and envy people who had time to breathe, to travel, to create — things I told myself I’d earn later.

I ignored the signs. I called them weakness. I told myself I wasn’t trying hard enough.

Until one morning, I woke up and couldn’t move. My body wasn’t sick, but my soul had shut down. I stared at the ceiling for three hours. No tears. No thoughts. Just a haunting blankness.

That day, I called in sick — the first time in four years.

I didn’t return.

III. The Fallout

Leaving that job felt like jumping off a building with no parachute. I had no backup plan. No "next move." Just exhaustion, debt, and a gnawing fear that I had thrown away everything I’d worked for.

But also...a strange, quiet relief.

For the first time in years, I could feel again.

Not joy — not yet. But stillness. Space.

I moved back home. I stopped performing. I let go of the LinkedIn version of myself. And in that empty space, I asked a terrifying question:

What if everything I believed about success was a lie?

IV. Redefining the Word

In that stillness, I started noticing small things.

Morning light on my coffee mug.

A long walk without a podcast or purpose.

Writing again — not for clients, but for me.

Catching up with my sister for two hours just because.

None of it made money. None of it impressed anyone.

But somehow, I felt more alive than I had in years.

I started freelancing — not because it was glamorous, but because it gave me flexibility. I made half the income I used to, but I slept eight hours. I had time to read. I cooked. I breathed.

And slowly, painfully, joy crept back in.

I met people who lived differently — people who didn’t have corner offices but had corner gardens, meaningful relationships, time for hobbies. People who defined success by peace, purpose, and presence.

Their lives didn’t look impressive on paper — but in person, they glowed.

V. The Unlearning

Unlearning the myth of success wasn’t a clean break. It was a daily, deliberate practice.

Every time I saw a former coworker post a promotion, I felt the itch: Should I go back?

Every time I got asked, “So, what do you do now?” I felt the shame: Do I sound like a failure?

But then I’d come back to this:

Success is not about being seen as successful.

It's about living a life that feels good on the inside, even if it looks small from the outside.

That shift changed everything.

VI. What Success Looks Like Now

Today, my life is quieter — but infinitely richer.

I work less, but I create more.

I make less, but I own my time.

I don’t chase titles, but I live by values: honesty, curiosity, presence.

Sometimes I still feel behind. Our culture is loud about what we “should” want. But I’ve learned to measure success differently.

Not by salary.

Not by applause.

But by how I feel when I wake up in the morning. By the integrity between my values and my actions. By whether I can look myself in the eye and say:

This life is mine — not someone else’s script.

VII. A Note to You

If you're reading this and you're tired — bone-deep tired — not from laziness but from living a life that isn’t yours… I want you to know:

You are not broken.

You are not failing.

You are waking up.

And that awakening might be the first step toward a success that actually fits you.

So unlearn what you must.

Break the myth.

Then, build something real.

For me, that’s what success really is.