I used to believe that success would solve everything for me—my self-worth, my place in the world, even that persistent anxiety. I chased promotions and accolades like they were lifebuoys in a storm.
For a while, it seemed to work. New titles brought fleeting excitement, and bigger bonuses made me feel important. But eventually, the thrill faded. I’d sit in front of my full calendar and feel… nothing.
I didn’t dislike my work, but I lost my connection to it. Sure, I knew how to meet targets and create flashy presentations, but I was lost on deeper issues: What do I truly value? What impact do I want to have? Who am I without applause?
After ten years of climbing this corporate ladder, I realized: I wasn’t climbing toward fulfillment; I was moving away from my true self.
The Myth of Safety
Growing up, I believed that stability was the ultimate goal. So, I chose a path that seemed secure—prestigious company, measurable achievements, a neat narrative. Yet, beneath it all, I felt anxious, as if my worth depended on external approval.
Rudá Iandê emphasizes that we’re surrounded by stories that shape us. I adopted one that claimed if I achieved enough, I would be fine. The danger? This kind of “safety” is fragile. One company shake-up, and my identity felt shaky.
True safety comes from within—skills I trust, values I embody, and relationships that hold firm, regardless of my job title. It took learning to let go of impressive projects in favor of those that felt authentic for me to realize that.
Empty Achievements
After the celebrations, a sense of emptiness often followed victories. I reached various milestones—a promotion, an invite to a panel—but felt an unsettling quiet afterward. Why? Because those wins lacked meaning. I was optimizing for appearances, not purpose.
Our brains crave novelty, but without a connection to something deeper, success feels hollow. I had to reflect: Who gains from this success? Would I still pursue this if no one was watching? When I started to focus on meaningful contributions, the highs felt more genuine.
Moving the gauge from external validation to personal integrity filled me in ways mere accolades couldn’t.
The Trap of Perfection
Perfection often masquerades as excellence, but it’s really just fear in disguise. I spent too much time perfecting my work, delaying projects to avoid criticism. The results looked great, but I felt worn out.
Research from the University of Ottawa shows that perfectionists experience higher stress and dissatisfaction than those who strive for excellence. The latter can pursue high standards while enjoying life more.
Once I adopted the mindset of “good enough for learning” instead of “flawless or nothing,” my creativity flourished. Perfection hinders curiosity and relationships. Embracing excellence invites collaboration and exploration.
Seeking Approval
A tough question arose: Did I want to be effective or admired? For a long time, admiration took precedence. I dressed my habits as professionalism, always saying yes, but it left me empty.
Rudá points out that the happiness of others isn’t my responsibility. I separated my ability to deliver from the need to please. The applause faded as I started focusing on work that truly mattered.
Listening to My Body
In the corporate world, I could rationalize everything. But my body knew differently. Tension before meetings, headaches after calls—these weren’t just signs of being busy; they were my body’s way of signaling something was off.
Trail running taught me to observe my physical sensations. Ignoring them led to stumbling, while listening helped me find my rhythm. I discovered that the work that energized me involved service, teaching, and making complex ideas relatable.
Redefining Success
Today, I still value goals, but alignment matters more. My new test for success is simple: Is it honest? Is it useful? Is it kind to my future self?
Rudá’s book, Laughing in the Face of Chaos, encouraged me to question my inherited beliefs and trust my emotions. One line resonates with me: “You have both the right and responsibility to explore and try until you know yourself deeply.” This perspective shifted my approach.
Now, I measure my week by what I learned and who I helped, rather than how busy I felt. I aim to build a life I don’t need to escape from, even on Mondays.
Small Changes, Big Shifts
I didn’t need to overhaul my life; I made smaller, meaningful changes. I began asking myself what I stand for instead of what others expect. I traded shiny projects for quieter, meaningful ones.
I also stopped battling my emotions. Anxiety became a signal that pointed to what needed attention. This reframing, known as cognitive reappraisal, helps buffer stress and supports well-being. Sometimes, a simple walk or a genuine conversation was enough to rebuild trust with myself.
Emptiness as Guidance
Initially, I resented that emptiness after achievements. Now, I view it as a compass. It tells me when something’s off. It doesn’t mean I’m broken; it’s a prompt to reevaluate what I truly need.
Releasing the need to chase success allowed me to experience the steadiness and connection I always wanted, not because I “won,” but because I aligned my efforts with my values.
As life unfolds, we will change, disappoint others, and try new things. That’s not failure—it’s vitality. Now, true success means dedicating my energy to what resonates with me, alongside people I admire, allowing me to rest well at night.
If you’re running hard and feeling empty, take a moment. Reflect on your quieter questions. Observe the signals your body sends you. Choose one small, authentic change this week and see where it leads.
Your title is just a chapter, not your entire story. Embrace the emptiness as an opportunity, and consider exploring Rudá Iandê’s Laughing in the Face of Chaos. His insights helped me see that success is hollow without meaning—fill it with depth, and everything else will follow.