It’s been a while since I’ve written a personal piece here. This one has been sitting in my mind for a while, especially with all the transitions in our life over the past few months. So here it is…just me, sorting through thoughts and putting them into words. Enjoy the ramblings. Curious as to what my therapist would say….

The More I Heal, the Less Ambitious I Become

On the last season of Love Is Blind (the only reality show I watch, mind your business), during the pod dates, a woman asked a man:

“What is the number one thing you are looking for in a partner?”

Without hesitation, he shot back:

“Ambition.”

It was so fast that it made me wonder if it was truly his opinion or just another example of capitalism infiltrating our thinking. Either way, I snorted. And honestly, it stopped me in my tracks.

Really? Cool if you find ambition attractive, but the number one thing? Out of all the things that make a person who they are, that is what matters most?

For real?

Like, really?

The most important?

I don’t know how many times I said really?! out loud to myself.

The more I heal, the less ambitious I become.

I have no interest anymore in ambition. I even dislike the word.

I recently listened to a podcast where the host posed the question: Can ambition be virtuous? And I agreed with their take…it can’t. Ambition is inherently selfish. It demands unhealthy priorities. I’ve seen it over and over again, in myself and in others. It requires sacrificing what truly matters: people, love, and peace. All for the sake of achieving something that only matters in the eyes of capitalism. And at the end of that pursuit? You circle back to those same things: people, love, and peace…exhausted and burned out.

The more I heal, the less ambitious I become.

Because I have nothing to prove.

The Weight of Proving Myself

I was ambitious because I wanted to prove myself.

I wanted to prove myself because I never received that validation at home…that I was good enough as I was.

I grew up with extremely limited means and often remember going without more than I ever remember going with.

That does something to a person. It creates an unspoken rule that you must earn your worth. That you must achieve your way into being seen. That you must hustle to justify your existence.

I wanted to prove that I could rise above my circumstances. That I was capable, smart, worthy. I wanted to prove myself to my peers, to society, to the people I went to school with, to the sales associate in the expensive boutique, to strangers who would never remember my name.

I followed the capitalist rulebook for over a decade. It left me in pieces.

Ambition never felt right in my body. It always felt foreign, like an invasive species that didn’t belong inside of me. But because of the constant messaging from entrepreneurs, spiritual gurus, and self-help culture, I convinced myself that maybe I was just uncomfortable with success. Not like I have ever been the the textbook definition of success.

Now, I know better.

Because what kind of success are we even talking about?

The Cost of Ambition

I remember, despite everything, still carrying the burden of completing college. Because that was the only option; especially if I wanted to stay in my mother’s house. Which I didn’t anyways.

At 17, I found myself pregnant, and suddenly, life was no longer just about me. My college career was only allowed to shift for one semester because if I put it off any longer, I wouldn’t go back or so was the idea that was forced upon me.

So I didn’t stop.

Almost six years later, I graduated with my Master’s degree and six figures of debt to match.

Not sure where ambition really got me.

To pay my bills, I was teaching full-time and working part-time as a promotional model. On the outside, I looked ambitious. To others, I was the definition of hustle and resilience.

On the inside, I felt dead.

The only thing my degrees actually gave me was a ticket to Kuwait, where I would eventually meet Khalid.

But I didn’t leave for Kuwait because I was chasing success. I left because ambition had wrung me dry. I was burned out on life at 25 years old.

The Weight of Ambition

I have watched my partner navigate this same weight in his relationship with my father-in-law. This idea of legacy. What are you leaving behind? What are you doing next? The need to always be doing something.

Because of cultural expectations, he should be ambitious, because why wouldn’t he be? Why wouldn’t he want more?

The pressure to achieve, to constantly be in motion, to prove that you are worthy of success, never lets up. Other family, however, get to live a life of their own making. They are free from this burden, from this constant scrutiny of what’s next? while he is expected to carry something heavier.

And for what?

For a version of success that was never his to begin with?

The hardest part isn’t just the expectation to be ambitious. It’s the reality that without it, recognition is hard to come by.

I watch as others in the family receive praise and validation for their ambitions, for following the path that is expected: education, a career, settling down, working until you can’t anymore. But for Khalid? Little recognition. Little acknowledgment. Because what he is doing doesn’t fit the mold.

Because ambition, in the way it’s been defined, is the only thing worthy of praise.

Because choosing a life outside of the grind, of breaking free from that cycle, is seen as opting out rather than carving a new path.

And that is what makes the weight of ambition so heavy. It’s not just about the pressure to succeed….it’s about the unspoken rule that if you don’t, you’re invisible.

The Shock of Choosing Peace

Khalid and I have been navigating the shock on people’s faces when we tell them we have retired, at least for a period of time, to live this life.

Most assume it’s because we are ambitious, that we must have worked ourselves to the bone, that we are strategizing some big next move. But in truth, it’s the opposite.

We wanted out of the rat race.

We wanted a life of peace, a life of our own making and one that exists outside of societal and cultural expectations.

For so long, ambition dictated every move we made, and for what? More money? More recognition? More of something that would never be enough? We walked away from that because we refused to sacrifice the one thing that truly mattered: our time, our peace, our freedom.

And people don’t know what to do with that.

Because in a world where ambition is a virtue, choosing rest looks like failure. Choosing peace looks like giving up. Choosing joy on your own terms looks irresponsible.

But we know better.

Choosing Audacity Over Ambition

Do I still have dreams? Absolutely.

Do I have ideas I want to bring to life? Of course.

But I will not chase them with ambition.

I will go after them with audacity. With courage. With my own pace. I will get there by taking breaks and making detours if I need to. I will get there with integrity. I will get there while considering my impact on others.

And if I don’t get there? I will still know that I acted in alignment with who I am.

The more I heal, the more audacious I become.

The more I dare to be fully me.

The more comfortable I feel speaking and living my truth, even when it doesn’t fit the mainstream narrative.

Audacity allows me to move with faith in my own rhythm, not at the relentless pace of ambition.

Audacity lets me rest. It gives me space to be human in a system that doesn’t want me to be.

It takes audacity to choose peace over productivity, to be yourself instead of being popular.

And I will take that any day over ambition.

As Johnny Cash, one of my favorites, once said when asked about his favorite place:

“This morning, with her. Having coffee.”

That is my favorite place with Khalid…mornings, sharing a cup together, looking out from our sailboat as the water stretches before us.

I’m so glad to have found peace.