Redefining Success on Your Own Terms

For most of my adult life, I equated success with advancement. The next role. The next title. The next challenge. I think a lot of people do. Especially in hospitality, where long hours, high stress, and sacrifice are often worn as badges of honor, climbing the ladder felt like the only direction to go. If you’re not constantly ascending, what are you even doing?

That belief system worked for me—until it didn’t.

At the height of my hospitality career, I served as Club Manager at a prestigious private club. It was the kind of role I had spent years working toward: demanding, visible, and respected. I had a seat at the table. I was responsible for the member experience, the staff, the budget, the culture—all of it. And while I poured everything I had into that role, something inside me started to shift.

I was constantly on call, constantly thinking about work, and constantly putting other people’s needs ahead of my own. At first, I told myself this was just the price of leadership. But over time, I noticed something troubling: I was physically present in my life but emotionally and mentally elsewhere. I was missing moments—with my partner, with my family, with myself. I was exhausted, reactive, and drained.

And yet, I couldn’t shake the guilt that came with even considering a change. I had worked so hard to get to that level. Would stepping down mean I failed? Would people think I couldn’t hack it? Would I lose respect?

Eventually, I realized the more important question was this: What kind of life was I building, and did I actually want it?

It took humility and courage, but I decided to leave the Club Manager position. I accepted a role as Director of Membership—a position that was still meaningful, still strategic, but far more conducive to balance. Some saw it as a step down. I knew it was a step toward alignment.

Here’s what changed:

• I had space to breathe. To rest. To be present.

• I reconnected with my creativity and curiosity—parts of myself that had been buried under constant urgency.

• I had meaningful evenings with my partner without interruptions from work.

• I could give energy to my relationships, my health, and my personal growth.

• I showed up to work more energized, more thoughtful, and more myself.

• For the first time in a long time, I felt like I was living on purpose.

Redefining success doesn’t mean you stop being ambitious. It means your ambition expands to include your full humanity—not just your career. I still take pride in my work. I still aim to lead and serve with excellence. But I no longer believe that a job title or a salary tells the whole story.

Success, to me now, is about sustainability. It’s about creating a life that’s not only productive, but also joyful. One that leaves room for connection, for reflection, for peace.

It’s also about being brave enough to disappoint other people’s expectations if it means honoring your own values.

This shift in perspective didn’t happen overnight. It took time, therapy, tough conversations, and a fair amount of unlearning. But what I’ve gained is something no title ever gave me: clarity. I am no longer chasing someone else’s version of success—I’m defining it for myself.

And here’s what I’ve come to believe: You can’t “fail” at a version of success that you designed. You can only grow.

If you’re at a crossroads, or if you’re quietly wondering whether the path you’re on still fits the life you want, I hope this gives you permission to stop climbing for a minute. Look around. Ask yourself what you really want. You might find, as I did, that success isn’t at the top of the ladder.

Sometimes, it’s wherever you can finally breathe.