A few years ago, I picked up a book that I thought would be just the kind I usually avoid: motivational, loud, a bit overenthusiastic. It was Jen Sincero’s You Are a Badass, which I ended up reading—and surprisingly, it left a lasting impression on me.
Not because I suddenly believed in the all-powerful magic of manifestation, but because it asked a simple yet uncomfortable question: what the heck do we even call success?
Up to that point, success for me—probably like for many others—had existed almost exclusively in comparison. In views, numbers, recognition, and rankings against others. After all, that’s what we’re taught from childhood: whose test was best, who runs faster, who has more language certificates.
Success only exists in relation to others.
And that’s a game where it’s almost impossible to win. Because there’s always someone earning more, reaching a bigger audience, moving faster, or “making it” in ways we don’t.
The book shared a story that really hit home. It talked about playing in a band that fills stadiums and tours worldwide, but if you constantly compare yourself to Metallica, you’re unlikely to ever feel successful. Meanwhile, objectively, you’re in a position that’s a dream unreachable for millions of garage band hopefuls. That thought echoed in me for a long time.
Success Measured by External Standards
I realized that I had been interpreting my successes almost exclusively in relation to others. Who am I ahead of? Who’s ahead of me? Who’s doing better? The problem isn’t that looking at others’ achievements can sometimes inspire us, but that this standard is always shifting. If we’re always looking outward, our success will never feel stable, and in our darkest moments, it might not give us the strength to keep going if we don’t see that what originally inspired us is actually moving us forward.
The real turning point came when I started asking myself different questions—not "Am I good enough?" but Do I enjoy what I’m doing? Do I love my daily work, not just the results? Have I had to compromise on things that matter to me? Have I stayed true to myself, or just tried to meet someone else’s expectations?
This doesn’t mean all my doubts vanished or that numbers no longer matter—I live on a salary too, and yes, I appreciate traditional “successes.” But these external markers found their place. They no longer define my self-worth. If a project doesn’t bring immediate, flashy success, it’s not automatically a failure. It might simply be a step that builds me internally, gives me experience, or brings me closer to my long-term goals. And sometimes, it might just be something I enjoy—and that’s no small thing in a life with limited days.
This Shift in Perspective Helped Me Immensely in My Personal Life Too
I compare myself less to others’ life pace, decisions, or milestones. I don’t feel like I’m falling behind just because I’m in a different place. And maybe that’s one of the greatest gifts we can give ourselves: not beating ourselves up daily with external standards.
For me, success today isn’t a state you reach once and for all—it’s an inner relationship. The feeling that I’m living my own life, not chasing someone else’s. And this kind of success—no matter how cliché it sounds—is far more lasting than any number on a chart.
