On ambition and my relationship with myself

I have learned that I do not want my ambitious goals if it means abandoning myself. That whatever my goals are, I should be able to reach them healthy, well-adjusted, and full of humour and grace toward myself; otherwise, I do not want them. Big shocker, as someone who has always (or, I suppose, until now) been driven and raised in a family that expected exceptionalism.

This switch began after the pandemic, but it came to a head in August 2024. After three years of combining full-time work and pursuing a law degree as part of a long-term career plan, I was constantly bloated, unable to fall asleep, losing my hair, and requiring a sick day from work every other week. After what felt like a back-and-forth argument between my need for care and my ambition, I had to make the decision not to immediately continue with the next stage of building a legal career: another two years of professional training. I spoke a little about this with Ghanaian fashion house Christie Brown in their Conversations series.

Around the same time, I attended a mentorship programme for young career women. In response to my question about managing a career switch from international development to law, the highly accomplished panel member frankly stated, “You’re going to have to sleep less. I sleep no more than four hours because I want to get things done.” She gave me her contact to continue our conversation so she could guide me. I never reached out. Not because I didn’t recognise the generous move on her part, or the opportunity of leaving a mentorship programme with a potential mentor. I simply could not, after teaching myself to listen and prioritise myself, place myself under the wing of someone glamorising the very thing I was trying to avoid.

When I think of this and similar honest messages from accomplished people who share that attaining ambition and balance are mutually exclusive, I cannot help but wonder if the things we celebrate would have been achieved if those who achieved them had prioritised their well-being. How much of this rat race of life is linked to us being internally misaligned? And how many of the mentors we look up to neglect themselves and teach us to do the same?

My career so far has taught me that performing excellently requires a belief that one has something to prove every day, a work ethic fueled by this insecurity of proving oneself, often at the cost of one’s physical and psychological needs. A lack of sleep as a badge of honour, declining social life, no hobbies, and neglecting my needs as a sign of dedication to the goal of a promotion, finishing the degree, and humble bragging about it on LinkedIn.

“Would the things we celebrate have been achieved if those who achieved them cared more about their well-being?”

The more I learn about myself, the more I value my relationship with myself above all else, and prioritise listening to myself, the more I realise I am unwilling to pay the price of my well-being. I do not believe it is worth it.

The consequence of this conviction is that I now live with the tension of wondering if I have learned this lesson a little too early in life. Because when I look at the greats, they seem to have learned the lesson only after they had attained the goals we celebrate them for. So what is the opportunity cost of applying this lesson at 29, only eight years into my career? What heights (using the metric of success this capitalistic world uses) will I miss out on? Am I okay accepting that prioritising my well-being will often mean that I will not perform at a high enough level to be seen and valued by business metrics?

And this leads me to a bigger question: is it really possible to attain ambitious goals out of genuine care and curiosity, both for myself and the mission? What does a sustainable, balanced height look like? And if the answer is that there is no balance, then should an unbalanced goal be the goal? If it is the right goal, why would the path to attaining it be paved with self-neglect?

Maybe the takeaway is that I’m not ambitious enough. That truly ambitious people fully understand the costs and are willing to pay them anyway, whereas I would say “oh yikes, no thanks!”

On one hand, I know there is wisdom in having learned this early in life, but on the other hand, I wonder what the implications of having this wisdom mean in today's world. I know the purpose of life is simply to live it. So it would have been worthwhile in the end, even if I achieved nothing of note. But even that ‘nothing’ wouldn’t be nothing. Because a life was lived, and that’s everything.

“I know the purpose of life is simply to live it.”