1장
The Relentless Pursuit of an Illusion
Emma Gannon's "The Success Myth" has become something of a cultural touchstone for millennials and Gen Z navigating career uncertainty in our achievement-obsessed world. The Sunday Times bestseller has garnered praise from celebrities like Elizabeth Gilbert and Brene Brown, who called it "a masterclass in redefining what truly matters." As burnout rates soar and "quiet quitting" dominates workplace discourse, Gannon's exploration of our toxic relationship with success couldn't be more timely. Drawing on her experience as host of the acclaimed "Ctrl Alt Delete" podcast where she's interviewed over 400 outwardly successful people, Gannon peels back the glossy veneer of achievement to reveal a startling truth: those who've "made it" often whisper the same confession-"I've done all this stuff and I still don't feel like I'm enough." This book isn't just another self-help manual; it's a radical reimagining of what success could mean if we had the courage to define it for ourselves.
2장
The Success Junkie's Awakening
June 2018 should have been my moment of triumph. I was being chauffeured to deliver a keynote speech, earning more in thirty minutes than I had the entire previous month. With my new outfit and designer handbag, I embodied success. Yet after delivering my talk, I returned to my hotel room and broke down sobbing. I couldn't remember when I'd last seen friends or done anything outside of work. Friends messaged that I was "killing it"-but what was I killing? My soul, probably.
I'd become what Jennifer Romolini calls "an ambition monster," wearing success as armor, afraid to be seen for who I really was. My job would never love me back or provide emotional support. Something had to change.
Despite our unprecedented access to material goods and conveniences, anxiety, burnout, and depression rates continue to climb. We're desperately chasing success, yet our world doesn't look very "successful" or "happy." This endless rat race becomes a distraction, a marketing technique, an obstacle course we didn't choose-a stick to beat ourselves with while watching others' successes play out on our phones daily.
For six years, I've interviewed over four hundred outwardly successful people on my podcast. I began seeking the secrets to success, wanting to know if these accomplished individuals had truly "solved life's riddle." Surprisingly, most shared a common sentiment: behind their impressive achievements lurked darker realities-loss of self, damaged relationships, mental health struggles, and existential crises. The most successful people often whispered, "None of this impressive stuff has made my inner problems go away."
The pandemic forced me to confront my own relationship with success. Despite outward achievements, I found myself withdrawing, numbing with wine, and avoiding opportunities. Eventually, I contacted a life coach who helped me recognize my workaholic tendencies. I discovered I was a "success addict," using achievement as a cloak to mask deeper problems.
When discussing success, we often miss crucial nuance. Success changes across cultures, but common definitions from my interviews included material possessions, degrees, homeownership, jobs, marriage, and children. Yet when we achieve these milestones, we feel deflated, questioning if we're chasing the right things. We're chasing outward traditional success where our ego gets boosted temporarily, but it doesn't positively impact our inner landscape long-term. This book questions the classic tickboxes we blindly chase, encouraging intentional goal-setting aligned with your authentic desires rather than external validation.
3장
The Dangerous Myth of the Success Formula
I'm allergic to gurus selling easy steps to success. After publishing my second book, people treated me like I possessed a secret code, but I refused this role. I didn't have a universal success equation-I simply wanted to help people see different ways of working. When asked for success formulas, I turned questions back to the askers, recognizing everyone is the sole custodian of their own life.
The "American Dream" suggests anyone who works hard enough can achieve anything-one of the biggest cons in our culture of "success marketing." With media constantly promoting everything we need to "win" at life, we obsess over cracking the success formula. But success is inherently unfair-for every superstar, thousands of equally talented people never achieve fame. Success involves countless variables-hard work, talent, privilege, luck-but few acknowledge everything that contributed to their achievements.
The phrase "Having It All" originated with Helen Gurley Brown's 1986 book, though she herself disliked the term her publishers embraced. Today, we're still plagued by this impossible standard-the pressure to excel simultaneously as parents, professionals, friends, and partners while achieving perfect work-life balance. Elizabeth Gilbert warns against the "subtle tyranny" of the word "balance," which has become dangerously close to "perfect"-another weapon women use against themselves.
Men dominate wealth lists, with women typically appearing only through family or marriage connections. The glass ceiling remains a significant barrier-the US ranks twentieth and the UK seventeenth globally for working women. Our cultural narratives reinforce this imbalance: masculine "power" is celebrated in everything from movies to myths, establishing what success looks like and who gets to achieve it.
Acknowledging privilege is crucial when discussing success. Many suffer from "hardworkitis"-believing everything they've achieved came solely through personal effort. In reality, numerous advantages create significant head starts: financial family support, stable housing, being able-bodied, white, or English-speaking in a Western democracy. Despite popular phrases like "we all have the same 24 hours as Beyonce," we don't have the same talents, lifestyle, or resources. If hard work alone determined success, nurses on night shifts would be millionaires.
Society constantly sells youth as a privilege through anti-aging products and celebration of young achievers. While amplifying young voices in activism is important, our obsession with youth is problematic-85.3% of workers aged 55-64 report facing age discrimination. Lists like Forbes 30 Under 30 create artificial validation that ultimately feels hollow. At thirty, you're just getting started-great things take time to mature.
Though there's no universal success formula, many successful people share a contrarian mindset-not simply objecting to everything, but reasoning independently and resisting pressure to conform. Being contrarian doesn't require extreme measures, but rather making small tweaks to better suit your personality and needs. Even small rebellions against the "shoulds" can lead to fulfillment-suggesting different meeting approaches, trying four-day workweeks, or simply taking daily walks.
4장
Beyond the Happiness Illusion
A man in the street once yelled at me to smile. I did not. Being told to "cheer up, love" happens often, especially to women minding their own business. When I'm walking, I'm typically deep in thought-I DON'T WANT TO SMILE. Women not smiling seems to rile people up. Men also have their emotions policed, told to "be strong" when they might need to crumble and feel. Suicide remains the biggest killer of men under fifty. "Putting on a brave face" can be seriously damaging.
Something is deeply wrong with how we tell people to buck up and be happy. Happiness, defined as "an emotional state characterized by feelings of joy, satisfaction, contentment, and fulfillment," traps us in prescribed emotions. Often, things I assume will bring joy don't, while small overlooked moments deliver tremendous happiness.
On a trip to Copenhagen, sitting on a bench in Tivoli Gardens with ice cream in hand, I understood why Denmark is considered one of the world's happiest places. Yet pinpointing my feelings, I wouldn't say I was happy with a capital H. "Happiness" feels too grand-an all-encompassing, permanent state. Instead, I was experiencing joy. Bliss. Sun on my face.
Many believe we'll eventually crack the happiness code, reaching everlasting contentment. "I'll be happy when..." "I'll be happy if..." But happiness in the present feels more like joy, often fleeting, which makes it sweeter. Unbreakable happiness no longer feels like the goal; instead, I savor moments that land like fluttering butterflies before flying away.
A friend recently messaged me saying they wouldn't start with "hope this finds you well" because, like all humans, I likely experience a thousand emotions daily. This lifted the expectation of perpetual wellness-sometimes we simply aren't happy because life is hard, and our brains aren't wired for continuous jolliness.
Society wants us to pretend happiness while simultaneously selling us happiness cures, reinforcing the happiness myth. But Scientific American suggests "negative" emotions could be key to wellbeing: "Bad feelings can be vital clues that a health issue, relationship or other important matter needs attention."
When I sat with author Clover Stroud for my podcast, we discussed the toxic nature of forced happiness. Having experienced profound grief and trauma, she finds creative value in difficult emotions: "We learn much from our suffering and losses." She enjoys life's bright technicolor, sharp edges, vividness, melancholy and meaning, noting that "happiness is actually quite boring." Sometimes it's even enjoyable to embrace sadness through melancholic music-when we accept these feelings as valid rather than trying to suppress them, they're more likely to lift.
In our modern Western world obsessed with capitalism and growth, there's an irony that activities our ancestors did for survival (fishing, hunting, pottery, basket-weaving) are now pursued for fun and pleasure. When we plan too much into the future ("I'll be happy when..."), we neglect our present reality. True happiness starts with appreciating life as it is now, not waiting for everything we want to fall into our laps.
5장
Escaping the Productivity Trap
Our modern obsession with productivity contradicts the 1965 prediction that technology would reduce our workweek to fourteen hours by 2000. Instead, our to-do lists grow longer, we glamorize overworking, and email has extended our workday by two hours. The workplace culture celebrates exhaustion as a badge of honor, while stigmatizing mental health needs in favor of "soldiering on."
I once met an exhausted lawyer at a wedding who was sleeping only three hours nightly and sometimes in his office. This normalized state of exhaustion raises questions about the value of productivity at the expense of enjoying life. Modern work culture cloaks endless labor in the language of "passion" and "purpose," expecting employees to care deeply about jobs while companies show little loyalty in return. Despite technological advances that should have freed us from rigid eight-hour workdays (an Industrial Revolution relic), many people remain trapped in what anthropologist David Graeber called "bullshit jobs" that contribute little to society.
Many of us struggle with productivity shame, feeling guilty whether we're working too much or resting too much. I've evolved from seeing rest as shameful in my twenties to now viewing workaholism as problematic. Through therapy and coaching, I discovered why I always felt compelled to be busy, recognizing my aggressive self-talk with phrases like "I have to nail it down" and using productivity as a stick to beat myself with.
I've heard countless stories of friends and colleagues who ignored their bodies' warning signs until forced into complete burnout. One friend's hands literally froze over her laptop, leading to three months off work. Another quit the NHS after being pushed beyond her qualifications during the pandemic and now sends voice notes from the Galapagos Islands. The pandemic seems to have triggered a collective awakening against what author Selina Barker calls "the bullshit of toxic productivity" and being treated like machines.
Success isn't about copying someone else's routine but crafting flexible approaches that work for your unique circumstances. I recommend "Temporary Routines" like morning pages or scheduled "mind meals" that provide structure during chaotic periods but can be adapted as needed. There's magic in abandoning rigidity-some of our best ideas come from chaos, not order.
The pandemic fundamentally altered my relationship with work. With less energy and capacity than before, I learned through coaching to listen to my body, prioritize rest, and quiet negative self-talk. I discovered I had been covering my true self with busyness and career.
Simply taking time off work isn't enough-we need to transform our concept of productivity entirely. I once coached a client who turned even vacation activities like yoga and hammock time into agenda items, treating rest like bootcamp due to childhood conditioning that relaxation was unproductive. Rest feels rebellious in a culture that values constant activity, yet it provides crucial biological benefits: heart health, brain function, improved mood, and stronger immunity.
I've discovered the difference between "process goals" and "milestone goals." While milestone goals focus solely on end achievements (like running a marathon), process goals emphasize the experience itself (enjoying marathon training). This shift allows us to be present, notice our progress, and congratulate ourselves along the way. Since most of life is spent "doing" rather than "achieving," learning to enjoy the process prevents the anticlimax that often follows reaching a milestone.
6장
You Are Not Your Job
I had a vulnerable moment when I realized my work had consumed my identity-I couldn't name a single hobby when asked by a massage therapist. This stark realization brought me to tears, signaling that something needed to change. Though initially defensive about the phrase "you are not your job," I gradually recognized that conflating my personality with my work was making me unhappy. I cite Toni Morrison: "You are not the work you do; you are the person you are."
Modern workplaces often blur boundaries with phrases like "work family" and perks designed to keep employees constantly engaged, particularly targeting young single workers without established home lives. The pressure to have a career that simultaneously provides status, money, and fulfillment can push people into financial precarity, and there's no shame in having a job that simply pays bills without representing one's identity.
Work has fundamentally changed, contrasting today's precarious employment landscape with previous generations' stability. My grandfather enjoyed lifelong job security without worrying about "innovating" or "pivoting," while today's workers face companies changing at "breakneck speed." In this environment, many young people are forced to monetize their identities or create personal brands as survival mechanisms. I reflect on my own experience of building a "sellable entity online," which felt exhilarating at first but eventually dehumanizing: "By tying my self-worth to work, I was putting a commercial value on myself and my purpose as a human being."
Being treated as a human first is crucial for wellbeing, yet workplace objectification remains common. A 2021 study found that when employees are valued only for their skills or appearance and treated as though they lack thoughts or emotions, it leads to burnout, decreased job satisfaction and depression. Dehumanization also affects successful people who become treated as "public property"-constantly pushed to do more interviews, events and appearances until "people don't see you as a person."
I reframe impostor syndrome as a natural response to performing unnatural roles. I question labeling it a "syndrome," noting that we don't feel like impostors during everyday activities like "throwing a birthday party" or "eating a hamburger"-only when performing professional roles that feel separate from our authentic selves. Rather than trying to overcome these feelings, I suggest embracing a "little bit of doubt" as healthy and productive. I quote Seth Godin: "Yes, you're an impostor. So am I and so is everyone else... Everyone who is doing important work is working on something that might not work." While you might feel like an impostor in your job, "you can never be an impostor at being you."
Separating our identity from work is essential for wellbeing. I use a "hat technique" to navigate being a multi-hyphenate-not by multitasking but by consciously recognizing which role I'm inhabiting at any moment. I create physical boundaries by working in a separate office room with a door I close at day's end, and maintain separate phones and social media accounts for work versus personal use. Balance comes when all our different sides receive attention and work together harmoniously, allowing us to connect with our integrity as complete persons.
7장
The Celebrity Illusion
Our cultural obsession with fame and status runs deep. Jim Carrey once joked at the Golden Globes about needing a third award "to be enough." The desire for recognition and celebration appeals to our need for external validation, yet despite celebrities seemingly having all elements of happiness-money, security, recognition-many still report being unhappy.
Drawing from my experience in women's magazines, I've seen how celebrities are treated as products rather than humans, making fame appear more like a trap than an aspiration. Status-seeking is deeply evolutionary, as historically higher status meant better access to resources and mates, which explains why we still crave it. However, as Will Storr notes, "There's no happy ending" because status constantly changes and can't be preserved.
Reality TV transformed entertainment in the early 2000s, with Big Brother becoming Channel 4's most successful program. By 2002, Pop Idol was attracting 13.9 million viewers-59% of TV watchers. I idolized these reality stars as a teenager, assuming fame meant living the dream.
Years later, interviewing Pop Idol winner Will Young at his home, I discovered his version of success was surprisingly modest: "I love pottering around my house... I get to hang out with my house. Who made the rules?" This contrasted sharply with my teenage assumptions about celebrity life.
The pandemic reshaped our perception of celebrities as we saw them on Zoom calls with grown-out hair-still in luxurious surroundings but suddenly more relatable. Sarah Manavis suggests we're in "the age of boring celebrity," with social media algorithms rewarding sameness and discouraging the iconic, boundary-pushing moments of past stars like David Bowie or Lady Gaga.
Despite waning interest in traditional celebrity, 78% of Gen Z teens would share personal data for online fame, compared to only 7% of millennials. Young people increasingly relate to YouTubers rather than traditional celebrities, with 70% of teenage subscribers feeling more connected to online content creators.
The nature of fame has evolved with the internet-paparazzi have less power, celebrities speak out against abuse, and "micro influencers" experience "micro fame." For younger generations, fame increasingly represents a platform for social change rather than mere popularity, with Gen Z more engaged in activism than older generations.
Despite the democratization of fame allowing more authentic communication, influencers still struggle with burnout and mental health issues from constant pressure to create content. As Emma Chamberlain demonstrates, modern celebrities balance normal life with extraordinary opportunities, showing vulnerability while still maintaining distance. Essena O'Neil famously revealed the curated lies behind her perfect feed, admitting that becoming "one of them" didn't bring happiness or peace.
8장
Beyond the Money Mirage
The cliche that "money doesn't buy happiness" misses important nuance. Financial stability significantly impacts wellbeing-it matters enormously for health, safety, and stress reduction. Yet there's a distinction between having enough and the cultural obsession with excessive wealth. In today's cost-of-living crisis, money worries consume mental space, while social media's "24-hour rotating display of materialism" creates confusion about what success truly means.
At 18, I was invited to a friend's luxurious family holiday-complete with private chauffeurs, personal chefs, and opulent accommodations. Despite the material excess, the atmosphere was miserable: the wealthy father shouted at his children about success, the mother retreated early each night, and everyone was unhappy. While sick in bed, I read "Affluenza" by Oliver James, which perfectly mirrored my experience-people "pumping money into their misery." This contrasted sharply with cherished childhood camping trips filled with love and connection despite modest accommodations.
"Career catfishing" happens when public visibility and perceived success don't match financial reality. While we traditionally equate fame with wealth, many visible "successful" people struggle financially. I once met a YouTube creator with five million subscribers who was barely making rent despite her apparent success. Similarly, an American internet star had to work at a fast-food restaurant despite her fame, only to be fired because fans' visits disrupted business-ironically unemployed because of her own success.
Our obsession with consumption connects directly to environmental destruction, with global wildfires, melting glaciers, and severe storms as consequences of human greed. The Times of India asserts that "unsustainable consumption is the fundamental cause of pollution and ecological destruction." Indigenous wisdom highlights how our consumer culture ignores the interconnectedness of all things and the hidden human costs of convenience.
The concept of "currency" extends beyond money to include time, energy, mental wellbeing, happiness, and skills-all valuable resources we exchange daily. While traditional self-help books emphasize financial growth, pursuing maximum income doesn't always lead to fulfillment. Melanie Eusebe emphasizes the relationship between time and money, noting that high earnings coupled with excessive work hours may create an unhappy lifestyle.
"Emotional debt" occurs in unequal exchanges that deplete wellbeing: prestigious jobs that harm mental health, high-paying positions that separate us from family, promotions that steal time from passions, or financial obligations that create power imbalances. I left a stable office job for freelancing, initially earning half my previous salary but gaining freedom, less stress, and better wellbeing-an exchange that felt "fair and right." Money itself holds little intrinsic value; rather, it's what money enables-safety, security, and meaningful experiences-that matters.
9장
Reimagining Ambition
I keep a framed print in my office showing steps leading upward before dropping off at "death"-a sobering reminder to question our constant striving and ambition. Most funerals last only 30-45 minutes, suggesting that life's achievements will be briefly summarized, which helps put daily worries in perspective. Many people follow prescribed paths (school, university, career) without questioning where this climbing leads, and the COVID pandemic triggered widespread reassessment of ambition and work values.
I grew up in Exeter with supportive parents who empowered rather than pressured me. Unlike many whose ambition was forced upon them, I was told "you CAN" rather than "you SHOULD." In my twenties, I was heavily influenced by feminist rhetoric like "AMBITION ISN'T A DIRTY WORD" and media's portrayal of "career porn" through shows like Sex and the City and films like The Devil Wears Prada. I was particularly captivated by the "girlboss" movement, almost putting the term in my bio after reading Sophia Amoruso's book. However, I now recognize that while empowering, the girlboss aesthetic glossed over the harsh realities of business-building and wasn't intersectional-it was too narrow, too trendy, and primarily centered on white women.
Despite all the empowerment rhetoric, gender equality remains elusive-the wage gap persists, venture capital funding for female founders dropped to just 2.3% (and even less for Black women), and workplace discrimination against mothers continues. I've realized that ambition doesn't have to mean one thing and can change throughout our lives. It's normal to be contradictory about ambition-many successful people oscillate between wanting world domination and craving a quiet cottage by the sea. I'm now "ambitious about living a good life. Not ambitious for ambition's sake."
Drawing inspiration from Paul Jarvis's book Company of One, I embrace the philosophy that "bigger is not always better." I no longer desire the relentless pursuit of growth and expansion that society often equates with success. While I could hire more people and strategize for greater profits, I'm content with maintaining what I have.
I've been getting into running lately, but realized I was focused on becoming "a runner" with all the gear and apps rather than simply enjoying the activity. After a discouraging run where I felt inadequate among serious racers, I found comfort in Sarah Moss's novel Summerwater: "Why not just run?" This simple question helped me realize that doing something-anything-can be enough.
The career "ladder" metaphor suggests careers must move upward, but my best career decisions have been sideways moves. Viewing careers as a "jungle gym" is transformative-sometimes moving down or sideways follows your gut and increases joy. When I left my agency job for less money in writing, it was difficult but put me on a better path.
In July 2021, Olympian Simone Biles made headlines by withdrawing from the Tokyo Olympics to focus on her mental health. Quitting has been rebranded as a sign of strength-acknowledging when something no longer serves you. I've realized much of my ambition stemmed from fear: fear of unemployment, being a "bad feminist," or not amounting to anything. Ambition darkens when used as conditional self-love, whereas strategic quitting shows you're taking control of your life.
10장
Breaking Free from Society's Checkboxes
We all carry mental checklists of what we "should" achieve in life-marriage, children, career milestones by certain ages. But things rarely go according to plan, and our desires often change unexpectedly. We chase these milestones believing they'll make us successful and therefore happy, rarely questioning if we actually want them. These life goals are embedded social constructs that we don't have to pursue if they don't align with our authentic desires.
As philosopher Rene Girard observed, "We want what other people want." We're social creatures programmed to compare ourselves to others-Martha Beck describes this as being "a few shades north of baboons" in our evolutionary development, with our obsession with hierarchy and social positioning. Most of life exists in messy "liminal spaces" between the solid milestones, yet we're conditioned to believe that feeling settled is the ultimate success.
We often seek validation from loved ones, mistaking it for love, and let their opinions sway our decisions. Many people avoid pursuing their true desires because they fear disappointing family members or breaking from family traditions. Seth Godin explains that people who care about us often unintentionally discourage us from creative pursuits because they want to protect us from failure, steering us toward "good jobs" with "good companies" instead of supporting our authentic journeys.
Social media has created a culture of "success theatre" where people carefully curate highlight reels of their lives, making achievements appear effortless. This performance culture creates pressure to art-direct and share life milestones, making us question whether meaningful moments even "happened" if they weren't posted online. The reality behind these curated images often involves debt, struggle, or fabrication-followers can be bought, press placements paid for, and perfect-looking lives may be financially unsustainable.
We're constantly bombarded with messages that we should be having "fun" and maximizing every moment of our short lives. Social media amplifies FOMO by showcasing others' exciting experiences. However, our personal definitions of enjoyment might differ dramatically from cultural expectations. My ideal evening is a quiet night in with a bath and book-far from the wild partying associated with "living life to the fullest." After years of thinking I wanted a "Big Crazy Life," I now embrace a "Quieter Life" with the people I love.
Despite social media suggesting we need hundreds of friends, research from MIT shows our capacity for close friendships peaks at around five people. I compare myself to my sister who has numerous close friends, while I count my genuine connections on one hand. I recall interviewing Gillian Anderson who similarly admitted to having only a handful of friends, making me feel less alone in my preference for deeper individual relationships over large group dynamics.
Society places enormous pressure on finding a romantic partner and staying together forever, but this narrative deserves questioning. I met my husband when both of us were happily single, allowing us to build a relationship without desperation. I value maintaining my independence and identity outside my relationship, enjoying time alone even when my husband travels. While commitment matters in marriage, relationships naturally evolve as people change. As therapist Esther Perel says, "I've had three marriages with the same husband"-meaning partnerships transform over time as individuals grow.
11장
The Myth of Arrival
I remember waking up happy after a night out with friends. Hearing Earth, Wind & Fire's "Let's Groove" triggered a flashback to my first book photoshoot-a dream come true with a professional makeup artist, an excited editor, and my photographer friend capturing the moment. I felt I had "arrived" at success. Yet months later at a press event, despite outward appearances of success, I confessed to a friend that I felt completely deflated. My childhood dream had come true, but I felt the same inside, experiencing guilt for my disappointment.
No amount of surface-level success can paper over our underlying issues-we remain the same person with the same wounds despite our achievements. I quote Adam Grant: "Success is a temporary thrill. Happiness lies in doing daily activities that bring you joy." Looking back, I cringe at my younger self for believing professional success would solve all my problems. Now in my thirties, I'm proud of my achievements but have shifted perspective-seeing goals as cherries on top rather than the main focus. Success now exists in the minutiae of daily life: showing up, self-care, paying bills, taking walks, meeting deadlines, or simply being brave.
Movie montage scenes like Elle Woods's "making it" moment in Legally Blonde contrast with the reality that life doesn't stop after big achievements. Unlike films where credits roll after success, real life continues with new challenges. Writer Heather Sundell questions our desire to "cut to the good part," noting that "the good part" is an urban legend-every life phase brings its own difficulties, and the mundane moments we're currently living are often the good parts too, though we may not recognize it until later.
Despite a successful 2018-meeting the Queen, reaching twelve million podcast downloads, giving a TED talk, filming a Hollywood TV ad-I felt unfulfilled because I was constantly focused on what came next. I describe postponing life's pleasures (inviting friends over, exercising, traveling) while waiting for some future milestone when my life would "truly start." I quote Mark Manson's insight that "sometimes wanting something is better than having it," noting that our imagination is limitless while reality often disappoints. Former magazine editor Farrah Storr's experience resonated with me: "When I got to the top I looked back over my career and realized the joy was in the climb to the top, not the pinnacle."
Finding personal success requires introspection-putting aside escapism to determine what we truly want rather than following others' expectations. Donna Lancaster's concept of "phase one" (pursuing traditional success through extrinsic goals) versus "phase two" (finding inner contentment beyond material acquisition) offers a useful framework. Phase one is necessary-we must experience what doesn't work to discover what does-but phase two represents a deeper definition of success focused on inner values rather than external markers.
Through interviews about personal definitions of success, I identified five recurring themes: time, love, peace, connection, and hope. These manifested through warm relationships where people felt understood; having "just enough" and moments of peace; radical self-acceptance; perseverance despite setbacks; and having enough money for freedom and safety. Small, everyday moments frequently defined success-cups of tea, sunrises, walks in nature-highlighting the importance of having time to notice life's simple pleasures. Success begins by identifying what brings joy on the smallest scale: how we enjoy spending our minutes and hours, what mundane things make us happier, and how we can incorporate more of these into our lives. When we envy "successful" people, we're really just jealous that they've found their authentic version of success.
