Beneath the Mask of Success

In early 2021, I was the epitome of “making it” by conventional standards. I was a lead designer at a top AI startup, a speaker, and I was in a stable, long-term relationship. My routine included ticking off self-care checkboxes, from workouts to regular meditation.

Yet, beneath that shiny surface, I was exhausted, and my mental health was hanging by a thread. I started losing sleep, watching my productivity slip away while everyone around me seemed effortlessly in control. I clung harder to my work, mistakenly thinking that pushing through would save me, but it only accelerated my breakdown.

It wasn’t until my manager suggested I take time off that I realized something had to give. Burnout was a word I hadn’t fully grasped until it hit me, not as a minor setback, but as a complete, mind-body shutdown.

My “Badge of Honor" and the Stigma of Dep…

When my doctor diagnosed me with burnout, I wore it almost as a badge of honor—burnout, after all, is somewhat “acceptable.” It’s the glamorous struggle story, a sign that you’ve pushed hard enough to reach your breaking point.

But when the reality set in, and my burnout diagnosis led to a deeper truth—clinical depression—that badge felt like a brand of shame. I feared that depression would mark me as weak, lazy, or incapable, adding to an internal monologue that had haunted me for years, saying I was worthless and inadequate.

Depression was an identity I couldn’t reconcile with my drive for success, and the shame I felt only deepened my isolation. Yet, in therapy, I learned that depression is not a flaw but a signal—our mind’s urgent message that something fundamental is out of alignment. Realizing this shifted my approach from resisting my depression to accepting it as a part of me that needed compassion.

The Path to Healing—Acceptance, Self-Care, and Redefining Success

The path to healing wasn’t linear or driven by “fixing” myself through productivity hacks or wellness routines. True healing came when I stopped viewing myself as broken. The shift began subtly, not with grand changes but with small, intentional acts of self-compassion. I had to let go of the relentless need to optimize every moment, to wake up earlier, to do more, to be more. Instead, I allowed myself the radical grace to simply be—without demanding improvement or progress.

One of the first steps was accepting my reality without judgment. I leaned into Acceptance and Commitment Therapy (ACT), which helped me map my mental and emotional landscape in a way I’d never tried before. ACT taught me to treat emotions as visitors rather than enemies, especially the ones I’d long avoided: envy, frustration, or sadness. When these feelings surfaced, instead of suppressing them, I acknowledged them as part of my human experience.

For instance, when I felt envy creeping in, I didn’t berate myself for it. Instead, I acknowledged the emotion and reminded myself that it didn’t define my worth. This mindfulness shifted my approach, turning each emotional wave into an opportunity for self-compassion instead of a trigger for self-criticism.

An unexpected tool in my journey was something as simple as self-embrace. I began literally hugging myself during moments of intense self-doubt, a practice that felt strange at first but soon grounded me in a deeper sense of care. It helped transform my inner dialogue, teaching me to address myself like a scared child in need of comfort, rather than a drill sergeant pushing for perfection. The first time I put my arms around myself and whispered, “I’ve got you,” I felt a release. This simple act became a bridge to feeling seen and supported, reminding me that I was capable of providing the very kindness I had long sought externally.

I then redefined “self-care” as more than just a checklist of routines. Self-care became about nurturing my spirit, rather than hitting a target. I let myself sleep in when I needed it, and I removed the rigid expectations that I’d set for “productive recovery.” This shift meant understanding that rest wasn’t a luxury or reward but a necessity. I stopped framing recovery as a break from work and started viewing it as the work itself—essential, life-giving, and valuable.

This journey also revealed the impact of expectations and pressures I’d internalized throughout my life. I realized that I’d tied my sense of self-worth to productivity and success, a binding that had worn me down over the years. Unpacking this conditioning felt like dismantling a legacy built on hustle culture, success metrics, and comparison. It was liberating but deeply unsettling. I had to sit with questions that lingered uncomfortably in my mind: “Who am I beyond my work?” “If I strip away achievements, what remains?”

These questions became anchors, helping me redefine success in terms that felt true to me, rather than those imposed by society.

Redefining success meant shifting my focus from relentless productivity to mindful presence. Instead of pushing through to the next goal, I embraced the present, finding peace in doing “enough” rather than constantly aiming for “more.”

Healing came when I gave myself permission to prioritize joy and rest, to make space for activities that didn’t need to lead to any achievement. I found purpose in the small, quiet moments of everyday life, like savoring a morning chai tea or stepping outside for fresh air, detached from the pressure to be productive.

Ultimately, this journey taught me that healing is not about a final destination but about continuous acceptance, self-compassion, and self-respect. Each day, I reaffirmed my right to rest, to feel, to exist as I am. By embracing my imperfections, I found a resilience deeper than any external measure of success. My story of healing is one of letting go—of striving, of perfectionism, of the need to prove myself—and finally arriving at a place where my worth is not determined by what I achieve but by how kindly I live with myself.

My journey through burnout and depression redefined my relationship with work and well-being, teaching me that genuine success comes from compassion, balance, and self-respect.

If you’re feeling overwhelmed, reconsider what success means for you, and know that asking for help is a sign of strength. You are loved, and you are enough.