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My "Successful" Life

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I have always been a hustler. I worked hard to feel seen, valued, and respected. At 16, I got my first unpaid job just to prove to my parents that my creativity is worth being seen. I remember telling myself 'You have to follow your own path and validate it whatever it will cost you'. So I started climbing the mountain.

By 18, I had been paid for my creativity while working for one of the biggest news outlets in Ukraine.

By 20, I was collaborating with international media like Culture Trip, Artsy, and Ink Publishing, and commissioning hundreds of stories every year. Writing made me feel like I had a place in the world and the right to be taken seriously.

A year before the pandemic, I felt like I needed to be part of something even bigger and to grow even faster. Within the next four years, I did exactly that: from copywriter to content manager to team lead and Head of Content Marketing.

By the time I turned 29, I was leading communications for two global brands - Depositphotos and VistaCreate. I spoke at 30+ events Europe-wide. I contributed to award-winning creative projects. I launched Fuckup Nights Limassol, bringing 200+ people to every event I hosted having no personal brand in a new country. 

My CV looked great. I knew I had become the kind of woman my younger self would look up to. But the truth was, I didn't feel that way. Not even for a second. Deep down, I still didn't fully believe I deserved to be seen, valued, and respected. The pressure I put on myself was relentless.

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The Collapse

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After a year of hosting Fuckup Nights Limassol, along with a full time job, I started receiving an immense wave of positive feedback and new proposals that were about to impact the project's future. I was pushing myself so hard to feel happy and celebrate the success, but all I could do was cry. Something was off. I was tired, emotionally exhausted as if the load of all these years had piled up. And the craziest part? I was incredibly pissed off about this. 

I thought it was a quick phase. I said to myself strictly, 'Hey, I give you a week to rest and recover, and you have to put your shit together if you don't want to miss all the opportunities coming to you at a speed of light'. 

So I made a strategy to do as many relaxing things every day as I could. I asked ChatGPT for help, put together a list, created a schedule, and set out on a relaxation journey. 

Massage. Meditation. Sound healing. Yoga. Crying on cue. Swimming. Breathwork. Funny movies. Comfort food eating. Looking at the sky for hours. Walking barefoot. Sleeping. I tried so hard to relax, but nothing helped. After a week of putting effort into this, at a coaching session, I caught myself screaming, 'What the hell! I have tried literally everything to recover asap. How long to wait? I don't have time for this bullshit, honestly'.

We sat in silence for a while until the coach said, 'Maybe you would recover faster if you stop pushing this process? What are your soul and body saying? What do they need right now?'

Long story short: I couldn't put my shit together for around 3 months. 

I had no idea what my soul and body truly wanted. The long-awaited Italian holidays that were part of the 'relaxation strategy' were a nightmare. I had no inspiration walking around the cities. I had anxiety in places I should have felt peace. I was angry at myself for being so tired and numb, even when everything around me was supposed to be wonderful. I remember running to the apartment in tears because I felt like I can't do this anymore and saying to myself, 'How much longer do you plan to continue the torture? Are you waiting for the full collapse of your nervous system and body? Believe me, it's near'. 

Burnout wasn't new to me. I've recovered from it a couple of times before. But this time, it brought a new companion: something like a midlife crisis. It wasn't about work. It wasn't about status. It was about the version of me I had built in chase to be seen, valued, and respected, and how far it had drifted from who I really was.

I realized the time had come. I had to learn to lead myself in a healthy way and face the biggest lies I had been telling myself for a decade. So this time, I set out on a completely unfamiliar journey. I had to stop performing 24/7 and start feeling literally everything, not just what I thought I was supposed to feel. This was the hardest thing I've done in years.

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Untangling the Mess

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Lie #1. The harder you work, the more people will notice and appreciate you.

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This common misconception teaches you to not only become a high performer, but also a skilled reader of other people's emotions: quick to adapt, always flexible. You might even start thinking you're a gifted empath. But that's just a survival strategy.

When you keep the focus on others, you disconnect from yourself. And then stillness becomes unbearable. Instead of finally asking yourself, 'What am I feeling? What do I need? What do I want?', you try to run away from it.

But if you ever become bold enough to sit with it, you'll start remembering who you were before striving. You'll reconnect with the parts of you once buried under pressure: the playful, curious, creative one. The real you.

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Lie #2. Your worth is in your output.

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Rest is lazy. Saying 'no' is risky. Doing more is being more. Bullshit.

This belief is a trap disguised as ambition. It trains you to treat yourself like a machine. It rewards efficiency, punishes fatigue, and confuses exhaustion with success. It whispers that slowing down is dangerous. That if you stop, people will forget you, replace you, or worse: they'll see the unpolished, unproductive parts of you.

But truth is the opposite. Your value doesn't come from your pace, your output, or your perfection. It comes from your uniqueness: your way of seeing the world, your energy, your voice, the stories only you can tell.

When you give yourself permission to rest, you don't fall behind, you return to yourself. You begin to make wiser decisions, feel more grounded, and, yes, even experience something radical in a world obsessed with hustle: satisfaction.

One day, you might look in the mirror and ask, 'What if my worth isn't something I have to earn but something I've had all along?'. And I bet, the answer will be obvious.

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Lie #3. You have to always be strong and consistent to be respected. 

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Strength was my shield. Sometimes, it still is. I used it to protect the parts of me I thought no one would understand. I kept showing up, smiling, working, supporting others, especially hard when I was falling apart inside. I thought being vulnerable would make people lose respect for me.

But here's what I've learned: pretending to have it all together isn't strength. It's tension. And unreleased tension eventually makes you collapse.

Real strength is softness. It's safety. It's kindness. It's facing you true self and stop performing for others. It's learning to give yourself the things you've spent years seeking elsewhere: visibility, value, respect.

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The New Beginning

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As I edit this piece, I realize it might sound like I've finally figured it all out. I haven't. I'm learning to lead myself in a healthy way from scratch. This time, instead of pushing harder, I'm kindness. I'm to treat the real me with compassion, no matter how much I fuck up, need rest, or slow down. Finally, I feel like I have the power to stop the toxic self-talk. And you have it too. 

So, just do it!

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