- I spent most of my life measuring success by grades.
- After graduating from college, it was difficult to adjust to a more arbitrary scale of achievement.
- Now, I know that regularly redefining success is a necessary part of living a fulfilled life.
When I was 7 years old, I was identified as a “gifted child”. That label of promised potential followed me from elementary school enrichment programs to high school AP classes, eventually earning me a degree from a top university.
No wonder I’ve measured my worth with numbers and letters as (mostly) objective indicators of success. Everyone knows what a 4.0 GPA or an A+ means. From a young age, I knew I wanted those high notes more than anything.
My continued focus on making the grade, earning the leadership title, and landing the job did not come without sacrifice. I said no to social engagements. I treated sleep like it was optional. The gym? Forget it. I realized that when I landed my post-grad dream job, it would all feel worthwhile. Finally, I would have achieved the ultimate goal.
But when I started my first “real” job, I found myself asking, “Now what?” For the first time in my life, the next step was not clear – to talk about a quarter crisis. I knew I had to learn how to measure success in this new environment.
I left the measurements of the past
Beginning my graduate work meant accepting feedback on an arbitrary scale—one that I quickly learned is often influenced by relationships, attitudes, and titles.
My GPA no longer mattered, and neither did my obnoxious, eight-line college email signature. All those club memberships and academic affiliations faded from importance. At first I felt bitter. After all, I had worked so hard, and nothing seemed to matter.
But then I reframed my attitude: Nothing mattered—none of the little things, at least. My not-so-stellar neuroscience grade? Sleeping through three of my 8am poetry classes a semester? Submitting a late Spanish essay? None of them stopped me from pursuing my goals.
This realization was incredibly liberating. Now, I know that small mistakes do not overcome consistency. I don’t need to measure my self-worth by the number of corrections on a paper or how many extracurriculars I participate in. I decide what success means to me. I can choose what to follow and when to switch paths. Letting go of the numbers that once defined me meant I was no longer held to someone else’s idea of ”good enough.”
I learned to part with my ego
My first professional projects came with a steep learning curve. What would have earned me an “A” in my college classes was met with a barrage of edits and comments.
At first I was upset with my performance. I felt like I had failed. I mentioned my frustrations to a much more experienced colleague and he gave me some great advice: “Separate the ego from the work,” he said, “and you’ll be surprised how quickly you improve.”
As a creator working in technology, I had to get used to getting feedback from all kinds of stakeholders. I don’t just write essays for a professor anymore. I write blogs and social media posts that are read by clients, partners and employees. Sometimes, this means that my work is reviewed by 20 people or more before it is approved. That doesn’t leave much room for an unearned ego.
My current definition of success won’t stay the same – and that’s a good thing
Success can mean promotion – or not. Maybe it means discovering a new passion outside of work. It might look like a commitment to health, exploring new places, or visiting friends and family. Achieving these goals may not make me better at my job, but I know they will make me a better person, friend, and partner.
My new goals may seem blurry compared to my old ones and will most likely change as I progress in my career. I wish I had known that life is less structured after school and also less linear.
However, in the modern world of social media highlights, it can be difficult not to compare myself to my peers. Some days, I feel left out for not attending graduate school, and sometimes, I wonder if I chose the right college or even the right city.
Despite all this uncertainty, I’m grateful for one thing I know: Living a fulfilling life requires redefining success at different stages. Shifting my goals doesn’t make me a failure; it makes me human.
