In 2018, I recorded 22 podcasts, wrote 8 blog posts, published 4 videos, and landed the biggest business project of my life (pulling off a year’s worth of work in just a few months). It was one of my most productive years ever.

In 2019, I did absolutely none of those things.

And it was one of the most peaceful, fulfilling years of my life.

Our culture would have you believe that the key to happiness is more, more, more. More creative output, more self-development, more introspection, more relationships, more experiences…

But what if the answer is actually in the opposite direction? In subtraction, rather than addition.

What if the constant, relentless striving for happiness is actually causing most of our misery in the first place?

I’ve spent most of my life being that relentless striver. If you’re into the Enneagram, apparently I’m an “Achiever”. And boy, was I ever.

It felt like I spent every minute of my life on an endless quest of achieving. It started with creativity – pushing myself to create short films and make it as a filmmaker. Then I moved on to devouring self-development books, trying to fix every single thing that was “wrong” with me. And then eventually, the spiritual path – wanting to be fully awakened and healed by the time I turned 30. (Hint: it didn’t happen)

The harder I pushed myself, the more it felt like I wasn’t doing enough. No matter how much I accomplished, it always felt like there was even more I had yet to achieve.

This dark, heavy pressure consumed my entire adult life. Two decades of constantly feeling like I needed to do more, more, more.

Until this past year, when it all finally changed.

So, what happened?

Long story short: last December, I was at the peak of my achieving madness. Was waking up every day at the crack of dawn to meditate, workout, journal, juggle multiple projects, and crank out more posts/podcasts/videos than I ever have before. No time to stop or think. Just go, go, go!

Then I put everything on pause and flew to India for a non-dual retreat.

I’d been relentlessly exploring non-duality for the past 8 years (I wrote more about it here) and had been on many retreats in that period. But this time was different.

I walked out of this retreat knowing one thing with absolute clarity: that I was whole and complete. Exactly as I am. That I lacked nothing. And nothing else I attained or “got” would fulfill me. How could it? I was already whole. And that this has always been true – for every one of us – but all too easily overlooked.

(And to be clear, this wasn’t just me staring into a mirror and telling myself, “I’m whole and complete!” It required a crap ton of meditative inquiry, which ultimately resulted in a shift in identity. In realizing that you’re the space in which all conscious experience is coming and going. It sounds complicated because it’s hard to describe with words, but in actuality, it’s incredibly simple. So simple, the mind can’t grasp it.)

I came to know this truth not as some heady intellectual understanding, but as a lived, experiential one. It felt as obvious to me as knowing I’m breathing.

From this perspective and place of peace, suddenly my manic frenzy of activity seemed…silly.

Why was I running a million miles a minute, pushing myself to my absolute limits (in a body that’s already struggling with chronic health issues), just to check off another todo item or squeeze out another podcast? Why??

When I asked myself the question, the answer seemed obvious.

50% of that effort was because I loved doing this stuff. Because it lit me up and brought me joy to create, grow, and make things happen.

But the other 50%?

That was all ego, baby.

It was from the part of me that felt like it wasn’t enough as it was. That feared it was incomplete. Deficient. Unworthy.

And thus, needed to allay those fears by achieving and accomplishing. By becoming someone different or getting somewhere else. By becoming successful and “special” to prove to the world, and myself, that I WAS worthy after all.

This energy had been steering the ship of my life far more than I wanted to admit (and when I was younger, far more than 50%).

But from the clarity of my newfound perspective…it suddenly made 0% sense.

If I’m already whole and complete, then what would future success and recognition actually fulfill? What would more “hustling” and “crushing it” really do for me? How would it ACTUALLY change my moment-to-moment felt experience, beyond the fleeting dopamine hit and shiny new thought stories I’d get to tell myself?

And just like that – all that efforting and forcing and pushing and stressing seemed ridiculous.

So I stopped.

For the first genuine time in my life, I dropped the whole achiever mentality. And didn’t feel an ounce of guilt. Good riddance.

The next year of my life was the most peaceful and stress-free since my childhood.

From the outside, it looked similar to my life before. Work. Play. Joy. Pain. Focusing on my health. Lots of long walks.

But from the inside, it was entirely different. That dark, heavy pressure had finally been released. There was nowhere I needed to get to anymore.

Nothing I needed to do. Nobody I needed to become.

I could finally just…be.

Ahh.

And with that, my lifelong journey of striving has finally come to an end.

I’m no longer striving to find completion through achievement. Or through creativity. Or spirituality. Or any other part of my life.

I’m done striving. Where would I try to get to? I’m already here.

Always have been. Always will be.

But does that mean I’m just gonna turn into a blob of nothingness hanging out in some desolate cave somewhere? Hell no!

I still love to create. But I’m done forcing myself to create because I feel like “I have to”. Or because it’ll get me something in the future. From now on, I’ll create if it feels enjoyable to do so in the moment. And if not, I won’t. As simple as that.

And I’ll always keep pursuing new endeavors (like learning Spanish right now in Mexico) and exploring new ways to grow (like practicing Qigong or upgrading my communication skills). I’ve always loved learning and evolving and that’s not going to stop anytime soon.

But in the past, my pursuits always had an air of heaviness to them. There was always a part of me that hoped my next skill or endeavor would finally “complete” me. Would fill that hole I felt within.

Now, everything feels so much lighter. Without the burden of completion weighing everything down, it’s now all just play.

The way it was when I picked up my Dad’s video camera for the first time.

Or put together a Lego rocket ship from scratch.

Or invented a game that involved directing ant traffic with blades of grass.

Truth is, we already had this figured out a long time ago.

As a kid, did I need to achieve and accomplish to feel complete? Did I need to constantly strive for happiness to be happy? Did I need to come up with a grand life purpose to feel fulfilled?

Or was completion, happiness, and fulfillment just what was?

Did “incompletion” even exist until that concept was taught to us? Until we were convinced that “completion” was out there and we needed to get it – through money, fame, success, or love?

What if what you’ve been looking for this entire time isn’t the answer to the search, but is in dropping the search itself?

I can’t speak for anyone else, but that’s what I’ve really been looking for all along.

It was never in getting the right achievements or accomplishments. It was never in attaining a certain level of completion or worthiness.

It was in realizing that the whole search was a lie.

That we were never incomplete or unworthy in the first place. So every step we took to find that was a step in the wrong direction.

Like desperately searching for home without realizing you’ve been standing in your own living room the entire time.

Turns out, we’ve always been home.

We just had to stop looking to realize we’d never left.

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Photo by Suzy Hazelwood.