Detoxing from achievement

Unexpected realizations from finishing a novel draft

I’m addicted to achievement. This sabbatical is my withdrawal.

I have this itch for achievement, to prove myself to the world. Ultimately, I want the approval of an authority figure to tell me that I’ve done work that matters. Somehow, I believe then, I will finally feel enough. Maybe it’s because I struggle with feeling enough being me, comparing myself to my peers who have achieved traditional markers of success (promotions and book deals), or suffocated by the weight of my parent’s immigrant journey, redoing their medical training at 40. Is that what all that hard work was for, so I can write silly little words about my silly little life?

This feeling was only magnified when I finished the first draft of my novel, at 57K words. The first thing I did after finishing was Google “how many words is a novel,” disappointed when most websites said novels were traditionally 70-80K words. Maybe it could be a novella, a friend suggested. But that felt like admitting failure, maybe because I have a subconscious belief that novellas are inferior to a novel.

You should still celebrate, they said. The last thing I felt like doing was celebrating. All I could envision was the months and months of revision that would be required to turn this into anything good. Then, a dangerous thought appeared. What if this novel is never good enough to get published? Have I wasted my potential? In my dreams, I saw the flashbacks of my product career: the highs of shipping big projects, the news that I got promoted, the steady paycheck. Maybe my subconscious was trying to tell me something. 

On one particularly low day, I told my partner: maybe I made a mistake quitting my job. 

(Kinda) Missing my job

I don’t think I realized how much having a full-time product job gave me a sense of safety, especially in terms of identity, prestige, and finances. As much as I don’t like to admit it, I am extremely triggered when people ask me what I do for a living now than I did when I was working full time. And I get triggered a lot, in seemingly mundane and random life situations: explaining my income situation to my CPA, prenup attorneys reviewing asset schedules, physical therapist who casually checks in on my career plans, or even the salon lady who asks me if I’m off today since I came in earlier than usual. Sometimes, I share the details, because I have to. Other times, I avoid the question, because I’m exhausted by repeating my story. 

There’s something about the constant validation you receive in the corporate environment, whether it’s from your manager or peers. I’ve realized that this validation often masked the growing existential angst inside of me, allowing me to stay a productive adult. Whenever I’d feel big, scary questions about my sense of self worth or the meaning of life, I’d get some positive reminder at work. I landed the big presentation! I got promoted! I took a fancy vacation! It was easy to avoid my dependence on prestige as a mechanism of self worth because I didn’t have to. 

But now that I’m no longer in a prestigious job, my self-worth and self-esteem issues are magnified. I feel like a failure as a writer, with nothing but rejections from fellowships and literary magazines. I feel like a failure of a coach, my business and Substack growth stalled. I feel like a failure of a screenwriter, avoiding networking events with a ten foot pole. I am tempted by LinkedIn ads recruiting for staff and director PMs, lured by the promise of a solid paycheck and defined ladder to climb. 

Letting go, flying solo in the sky

Letting go

After one particularly challenging therapy session, I had a startling realization. My entire life had been run by expectations of doing something great, while fulfilling the roles of what it meant to be a “good Indian daughter.” I had to be physically fit, stay in complete control of my emotions, achieve the highest level at whatever career I did next, leave a tangible legacy in this world, start a family, all while emotionally supporting my friends and family unconditionally. 

It was a lot.

I think there was a part of me that felt that if I quit my corporate jobs, the environment shift would be big enough to remove the weight of these expectations. Sadly, the answer is no. These expectations, primed deep into my subconscious, are still running around in my sabbatical. No wonder I feel miserable in a time that’s supposed to be all about me, but still continues to feel about others.

I was like a kid wearing a heavy bookbag who thought that buying a bigger bag (aka a sabbatical) would solve their problems. And it did, to a certain extent, create more space for me to explore and try things. But until I acknowledge that the number of books is too much and actively reduce the number of books in the bag, I will still feel tired, unfulfilled, and burnt out. 

I needed to let go. 

Reprioritizing 2024 goals

I re-examined my list of 2024 goals, a messy four page Notion doc with goals across six categories. No wonder I feel so fragmented and lost, I thought to myself. I challenged myself to cut the list of goals from god knows how many to five. It was painful, debating whether it was smart to cut certain goals or whether they were “comprehensive” enough, but somehow, I got to five.

My (newly updated) goals for 2024 are: 

• Setting up my newly married life for success (which includes getting married in the first place)

• Finding some source of financial stability

• Healing from overachievement

• Finding joy, progress, and discovery in writing again

• Develop expertise in one writing form (currently screenwriting)

Some goals are described clearly, with a clear output (like setting up my married life for success). Others are more open-ended, driven purely by intentions (like healing from overachievement). I want to have space for both. 

This clarity has also given me permission to cut things in my life that weren’t serving me, like:

• I took a break from fiction, shelving the novel and fellowship applications. I’m focusing on screenwriting and essays which are giving me more joy now, while thinking through what I want from screenwriting more broadly.  

• I quit language classes, even though I really want to get better at Spanish. But I don’t have time for it now.  

• I stopped requiring that I go for a walk first thing in the AM as part of the “perfect” morning routine. Now, I go for walks when I feel like it.

• I am not training for any races after my half marathon this year. I’m tired of training for running events.

• I cut out the regular calendar events I had set up for “inner work” “networking” “reflect on sabbatical process” and “friend catch ups,” allowing these opportunities to come organically vs putting pressure on myself to figure it out.

Self unfolding

For the first time in a long time, I finally feel like I’m enjoying existing in my sabbatical, rather than waiting for the enjoyment to reach me. 

I’m not surprised that I ended up cutting my list. If I’m honest, there was probably a nagging feeling when I did my goals that I was doing too much, but I wasn’t ready to let go of that part of myself yet. It reminds me of Steve March’s work on self-unfolding, who talks about how a lot of self-improvement methodologies subconsciously tell you there’s something wrong with you, trying to get you to some perfect ideal state, versus working with what you have. I’m learning that sometimes, you have to work with where you’re at rather than constantly pushing yourself to some ideal “perfect” state.

To be clear, I don’t feel like I have it all figured out. One big question I’m still wrestling with: what do I want from my creative career? Do I still want to be an author, or go all in on screenwriting? If the latter, then is success getting staffed on a TV show? If so, then am I still craving the very prestige that led to this burnout in the first place?

I don’t know. Normally, this would make me feel ashamed, and that shame would transform into anxiety about whether I’m healing fast enough or brainstorming sessions to figure out the answers ASAP. But in this new, self-unfolding Vinamrata, I feel okay with not knowing (for now). I’m focusing on creating conditions for listening, which I have been doing through walks, journaling, and therapy.  

When the time is right, the answer will come to me. 

Thanks for Reading! 

I’m on a journey to create a blended career across the creative arts, tech, and business. This newsletter is my way of sharing my reflections, thoughts, and advice along the way. Here are some ways to support or further collaborate together! 

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