It's the journey, never the destination

When results harm

Nov 07, 2024

Four years ago, I applied for the job of a lifetime working for one of my favourite authors, Mark Manson of The Subtle Art of Not Giving a F*ck fame. The role of Content and Research Assistant had been advertised in his weekly newsletter then sent to hundreds of thousands of readers, was fully remote, and open to candidates globally.

When I saw the job posting, I couldn’t believe my luck. I had just wrapped up my stint at a Bangkok-based travel tech company in preparation for my move to Ho Chi Minh City to join my partner of two years. I was in need of employment, and a remote, well-paid gig writing for a #1 New York Times bestselling author was far superior to any professional scenario I could have dreamt up.

I had one week to write my application, and that whole week I agonised. With no relevant experience, no Master’s degree, no publication under my name—the first Val Thinks wouldn’t arrive in 33 inboxes for another nine months—I had to really impress to stand a chance.

In the end, I gambled it all on a playful CV and a reveal-all of my chequered past when asked to describe my long-term career goals:

I used to have a career goal. My ambition from university days was to land a top job at Boston Consulting Group, which led to an unsuccessful internship application and much daydreaming. But then, life happened. 4 depressive episodes, 1 manic, 1.5 month in a mental hospital and a diagnosis of bipolar disorder later, I came to adopt a different life approach. Out went the career goals of old, in came a focus on the process. I became a firm believer that life happens on the journey, not at the destination—it’s not so important where you end up; what matters is the stuff along the way. So, instead of career goals, I now have one guiding principle for my process of life: maximise the time I spend doing what I love. Or, as you might say, choose my suffering and suffer the hell out of it. [...]

I beat 600 other applicants to land my dream job, which turned out to be everything I hoped for, and then some. I can’t be more thrilled to work for Mark, the wonderful human that he is, and get to help millions of people live better lives, every single day.

Yet my story doesn’t have a happy ending.

How I lost my way

Somewhere in the past four years—juggling my dream job, this newsletter, subtitles translation, and getting in shape—I lost my way.

When I signed up for this life, I was all about the work—the writing, the translating, the exercising. I had chosen my suffering and would gladly “suffer the hell out of it.”

But then I saw results, and everything went wrong.

When my boss and colleagues started praising my performance, my validation-craving self responded by shifting my source of professional fulfilment from doing the work to being praised for it. The more likes and comments I gained on this newsletter, the more I turned to them as validation for my skill. The first time a subtitles editor commended my translation, it made my week, left me hungry for more. When I first saw a version of myself I liked in the mirror, I came to rely on that reflection to get me to the gym on mornings I’d rather lay reading on the couch.

The more positive results I saw for my efforts, the more I zeroed in on them as a source of validation, of motivation, of fulfilment. I depended on them, and for a while I thrived.

But then the praises at work dried up, the newsletter comments ceased, the subtitles editors stopped bothering with feedback, my tummy flab returned—and I became miserable.

While busy chasing results, I’d left behind the conviction that made all my dreams come true in the first place. I’d forgotten that life happens on the journey, not at the destination.

Life happens on the journey

Last week, after four years of slowly but surely straying from the enlightened path, I finally had my wake-up call in the wake of a newsletter existential crisis.

For months, I’d been obsessing over my barely-growing subscribers and ever-declining open rates, asking myself over and over: What am I doing? What is Val Thinks about? What do readers want? Have I lost it? What *is* “it”? Is weekly too often? Should I take a break? Can I afford to? Or do I just give up? Does anyone even care?

The longer these questions preyed on my mind, the less inclination I had to write, the more behind I got in my schedule. Finally, last week, I ran out of runway. I had one finished newsletter scheduled for Friday, but nothing for the week after.

Not only was I in an existential crisis, the whole endeavour was threatening to come crashing down around my uninspired writer self.

So I heeded my own advice and took a break. For three days I did not write, did not so much as glance at my newsletter. But my crisis was rooted too deep and I returned as unwilling as ever.

In the end, what came to my rescue, and I did not see this coming, was Reddit. My financial planner and dear friend Patrik had been suggesting I get on the platform to find new readers for some time. That week we had one of our hours-long, life-affirming coffees, he showed me how it worked on his phone, and I was finally convinced. I joined that very afternoon and dove into conversations around writing, contributing what little wisdom I’d gleaned from three and a half years of Val Thinks, existential crisis be damned.

My first rescuer—there were two—was a writer one year into his journey. He had asked a question about stagnation that drew the attention of my struggling self like freshly-dripped coffee in the morning. I pondered his dilemma, then carefully typed out the following advice:

I'd start by asking yourself: what's the one thing you do it all for? Is it, like me, to write? Or is it to build an audience? Or to build connection with your readers? To become an expert on your subject matter? And so on.
Get clear on your North star, and forget everything else. It's the best way I've found, maybe the only way, to keep going week after week and not lose your passion.

Writing that comment to a stranger on the internet was the wake-up call I needed. I had started my newsletter three and a half years ago because I wanted to write, and write regularly—likes and comments weren’t even on my mind. I had applied for my dream job four years ago because I wanted to do the work, not be praised for a task well done. I had gotten into subtitles translation because I loved the challenge of transposing an experience across language and culture, no matter whether an editor liked my work enough to tell me. I had started exercising because I wanted to be healthy and strong, not so I could fall in love with my toned reflection.

I had committed myself to all these things because doing them gave me joy—results and recognition played no part. But then results and recognition poured in and I forgot what I was in it all for.

One day after my awakening from four years of misdirection, a second Reddit stranger secured my salvation, responding in the same thread:

If you're being “called” by something—then it exists and is calling out to you.
Your writing into your niche is your response. Do it for the love of it. Write what you wish existed on the blogosphere.
Don't do it for an “outcome”—be the outcome—a writer and author on your niche subject. The very writing is the outcome.

Be the outcome, write what you wish existed.

And with that, I sat down to write this post.

What do you think?

Because I’m human and we’re silly forgetful creatures, I’m sure going to forget again and you’ll have to remind me to focus on my journey, never my destination. Enough about me though:

What’s the journey you choose?

What is your process, the suffering that you love? Please hit “reply” or leave a comment—I read every response and I’d love to hear from you. If you want, share this post with someone who could use this friendly reminder.