What's your definition of success?

My inbox has been loud since I wrote about burnout last month. One person I hadn’t spoken to in years told me my article could have been about her. Another said it validated everything he’s been feeling lately. Multiple people wrote to tell me how badly they needed it. 

It’s an honor to hear that my writing connects with people—but when the topic is bone-deep burnout against a backdrop of crushing inhumanity, it’s bittersweet. I’m grateful that people resonate with my work… and simultaneously devastated that this is what resonates. 

But there was something else that showed up in my inbox over the last weeks—something more than just people resonating with the pain of burnout. There were success stories. 

One person who was part of our last Power Shift cohort messaged me. They wanted to thank me for my article—and for the way Power Shift helped them change their life for the better. Not through getting a promotion or landing a role at a big-name company, though. Actually, the opposite: after spending nine weeks with us reflecting on their values and priorities, they realized their “good” corporate gig was actually burning them out. It looked good on paper, but the tradeoffs weren’t worth it. So they quit. Now they’re freelancing. 

(By the way, we’re enrolling for our fall Power Shift cohort right now. If this newsletter has helped you, it might be right up your alley. Check it out here.)

Pretty soon after that conversation, I ran into someone I hadn’t seen in a while who’s spent the last few years working in startups. They told me they were thinking of making a big pivot—shifting out of product and into a field that’s tactile and creative and decidedly offline. We talked about the fears that come with leaving a known career behind—even when that career makes you feel empty. But we spent more time talking about the joy of it—the joy of making a career decision that lights you up, even if it confuses the hell out of your peers. I’m not sure what their next move will be, but one thing was clear: they were alive with a sense of possibility. 

Then Angie King wrote a whole gorgeous essay about recovering from burnout. On the surface, her success story is straightforward: she felt burned out by her old job, so she found a better one that facilitated the life she wanted to live. But when you read just a little closer, you find that Angie’s shift wasn’t really about landing the new job. It was about finding a new way to be—one that’s more present with her community, her values, and her own agency. 

I don’t call these success stories because the people involved have it all figured out—they’re still working through the muck like the rest of us. I call them success stories because these are people who are redefining success itself—choosing paths that serve them, even when they’re illegible to everyone else. And they’re feeling less stuck, less drained, less powerless as a result.

Redefining success sounds nice. In practice, it’s hard. And I remember that every time I log onto LinkedIn… which is, well, kind of a lot. 

Not because I love the broetry, or the faux-vulnerability, or the endless AI hype. But my work is about, well, work. LinkedIn is the single best platform for me to connect with people about the topics I spend my days thinking about: Trading people-pleasing for self-trust. Forging healthier working relationships. Building a career that doesn’t break you. 

But if I’m not careful, I can start feeling pretty bad about myself when I’m there: This person just got promoted to VP. That one sold their company for millions. They’re keynoting a conference, they’re scaling their team, they’re closing a funding round. Everyone’s winning. 

That’s not actually true, of course. Plenty of people are posting about their struggles—their layoffs, their rejections, their frustrations with corporate life. But all the winning? It’s deafeningly loud. It worms its way into my brain. It elbows out everything else.

You’re behind, my brain starts to think. You should have done it all differently. 

And then, like clockwork: You’re failing. 

I know I’m not the only one whose self-critical brain goes wild when I scroll for too long. It’s, like, social media’s whole thing: we ingest other people’s carefully curated highlights, and hold them up against the dinginess of our everyday—not just our lackluster resumes, but our unfolded laundry and our imperfect skin, too. It feeds perfectionism—the cruel belief that we’re fundamentally inadequate, and that if we stop striving for even a second, we’ll be rejected. 

It’d be nice if I could tell you how to turn these thoughts off without simply deleting all your social feeds, but I certainly haven’t figured that out. Here’s what I do know: the clearer I’ve become on my own definition of success, the more those thoughts have become something I can move through, not get stuck in. Because when I slow down and remember who I am and what makes me happy, I know that I don’t really want any of those lives. I know that I value my autonomy more than a big title, and my integrity more than the ability to buy a vacation house on the beach. I know that I’d rather be a weirdo with a niche newsletter and a scrappy tiny business than pretend for even one second that I’m excited about maximizing shareholder value. 

I know that for me, professional success is actually simple: It’s sharing ideas and practices in a way that helps people—a way that makes them feel less alone, more capable, more powerful. And it’s doing that while being unapologetically myself—saying what needs to be said, in my own voice. If I can keep doing that while earning enough to enjoy some comfort and retire someday, it’s enough. 

So whenever other people’s definitions of success get loud, that’s what I come back to. It grounds me. It reorients me to what matters.

It claws just enough space back from those self-critical thoughts for me to get on with my life—to enjoy the successes I have, and make peace with the tradeoffs I’ve had to make to get them.  

So what’s your definition of success? 

If that question makes you go blank, you’re not alone. I find that most of us have absorbed our definitions from someone or something else: our parents, the tech industry, American capitalism as a whole. The longer those narratives go unquestioned, the worse we feel—about ourselves, about our work, and about our capacity to make change in our lives and our communities. 

So I want to invite you to sit with that question for a while. And if it feels too big to answer all at once, try starting with these two instead:  

I’d love to hear how you define success now—even if your definition is very different from my own. Maybe especially if it’s different.

Free event: You’re not the same, and that’s OK: Navigating life transitions at work
August 13 
If you’re going through changes that are shifting your priorities and perspective at work, this talk is for you. Join Jen (remotely) at Content Strategy Seattle for this talk.

Flagship program: Power Shift 
Tuesdays starting September 16
You’ve tried people-pleasing, “proving your value,” and putting yourself last. If you’re ready for something else, Power Shift is ready for you. This is our flagship 9-week program all about building self-trust, confidence, and a sense of agency—even in chaos. Save $100 if you sign up by August 15 with the code SAVE100.

Workshop: Protect yourself from ADHD burnout 
October 17 
Bring yourself back from the brink by working with—not against—your brain. Join this workshop led by Jen and our friend Melissa Rogel, LMFT. Registration opens soon—join the waitlist to get notified.

Conference: Button 2025 
October 22-24
Join us at content design’s big virtual conference! We’ll be hosting free speed coaching sessions just for attendees. Save $100 on an individual pass with the code AV100.