Hello, Reader!

Recently, I've been thinking about success. Not the kind we talk about in books or motivational speeches, but the very personal definitions we create for ourselves, often without even noticing.

I've seen this in my clients, sometimes years after helping them achieve something they once considered a major professional goal. And lately, I've been experiencing a version of it myself.

The stories are different, but they have something in common: at some point, the things we work so hard to achieve stop being the most important things in our lives.

Let me explain.

The milestone that wasn't the destination

Over the years, I've worked with quite a few people who were determined to reach the next professional milestone.

A promotion. A bigger role. A higher salary. A position that would finally reflect their abilities and experience.

Some were financial executives, others sales directors, personal trainers and professionals from entirely different industries and countries.

I remember helping people prepare for these transitions, build confidence, navigate organizational politics and make decisions that eventually brought them where they wanted to be.

And quite often, they got there faster than they had expected.

You might think that reaching such a goal would bring a lasting sense of satisfaction. Sometimes it did, at least initially.

But in conversations afterwards, I noticed something interesting.

The promotion had happened. The salary had increased. The new position was secured.

And then, almost unexpectedly, other questions started appearing.

The achievement was real. There was nothing wrong with being proud of it.

But it had turned out to be a milestone, not a destination.

And somewhere along the way, other parts of life had been pushed aside, almost as if they could wait until the important professional goal was reached.

Only now, having reached it, people began to realize how much they had postponed.

My own definition is evolving, too

I recognize something similar in my own professional life.

For many years, success meant building a coaching practice. Finding clients, developing my skills, creating a reputation, growing an audience and helping people navigate their professional transitions.

I've been coaching since 2008. That's a considerable part of my working life.

And I still have clients. Some have been with me for a long time. I value those relationships, and I'm happy to continue working with people when our paths and schedules align.

But I no longer see growing my individual coaching practice or expanding my audience as the main measure of my professional success.

My priorities have changed.

I want more freedom to organise my time, more space for writing and thinking, and more opportunities to share ideas beyond individual coaching conversations.

At the same time, I'm building something quite different with a small group of coaches: a cooperative business in which we are exploring how to create opportunities for one another, support our clients and build a more collaborative way of working.

In this project, my attention is increasingly directed towards the success of the whole group, the coaches involved and the people they serve.

It's a different kind of contribution.

I haven't stopped caring about helping people. I've changed the way I want to do it, and perhaps also the scale and nature of the impact I hope to make.

By some traditional measures, I might be stepping away from things that took years to build.

By my current measures, I'm moving towards something that matters more to me now.

And I'm learning that these two perspectives can coexist.

Perhaps the definition of success needs to keep moving

There is something I find particularly interesting when I observe younger people, including those who are now approaching their thirties.

Many seem less willing to postpone the things that matter to them until some imagined future moment when they've finally achieved enough.

They want meaningful work now. Time for relationships now. Opportunities to travel, learn, explore and enjoy life while building their careers.

Of course, younger generations are not all the same, and they have their own pressures and compromises.

But I sometimes wonder whether those of us who spent years chasing professional milestones have something to learn from this attitude.

Perhaps we don't have to earn the right to enjoy our lives by first achieving a certain level of success.

Perhaps family, health, curiosity, friendships and personal interests aren't rewards waiting at the end of a successful career.

They are part of what makes a life successful in the first place.

This is the insight I've been returning to:

The problem isn't necessarily that we chose the wrong goals. Sometimes we simply forget to update our definition of success as we grow and change.

A goal that once gave us direction may eventually become less relevant. An achievement that once seemed essential may turn out to be just one part of a much bigger picture.

And that's not a failure. It's an invitation to reconsider what we want our lives to look like now.

A question to sit with

I'd like to leave you with one question this time:

Would it still be about:

• professional achievement,
• recognition
• or financial security?

Maybe you would give more space to:

freedom, relationships, health, creativity, contribution, or simply enjoying your everyday life?

I'm genuinely curious about your answers.

And if you'd like to share your thoughts, simply hit reply and tell me: what matters most to you when you think about success today?

I'd love to hear your perspective.

One more thing I'd like to ask you

As I've been thinking about what success means to me now, I've also been reconsidering what I want my work to make possible.

Over the years, some of the most meaningful moments have come through conversations with readers. Someone replies to a letter, shares a personal experience, or asks a question. And sometimes a brief exchange develops into something much deeper.

I've started wondering whether there might be a way to make more room for these conversations.

An idea called The Next Conversation could be a space for readers who would like to stay connected beyond the books, essays and Letters of Change, perhaps in different ways depending on what they are looking for.

I'm still figuring out what this might look like. Before taking it further, I'd really like to understand whether such a space would be meaningful to readers, and what they might actually want from it.

I've put together a short questionnaire to hear your thoughts.

​Help me shape The Next Conversation →​

If you have a few minutes to share your perspective, I'd be very grateful. Your answers will help me decide whether this is an idea worth developing, and in what direction.

Until next time,

Elena