Depressingly Successful

Our Story

I will never forget the first time I realized that I hated myself. I was in my graduate school dorm in Shanghai, China, overlooking the city and wondering why I was still being plagued by the sadness and malcontent that had always seemed to haunt me. I had been taught to believe that my value was determined by the magnitude of my accomplishments, and as such, I had always expected happiness to be on the other side of my nearest accolade. I believed I would find happiness as soon as I finished this degree, landed that impressive job, or reached some other grand milestone in life. It wasn't until I had surpassed even my wildest expectations that I realized the secret to finding happiness was not through achieving success. I was in my dream graduate program, piloting a global initiative for one of the most esteemed universities in my field, being regarded and admired by friends, family, colleagues, and mentors... and yet, the deep-seated feelings of sadness and shame were still there. I realized that day that it didn't matter where in the world I went or what goals I went on to accomplish. I was the cause of my suffering. The longer I tried to ignore this lesson, the harder it became to function through the pain. I turned to substances, distractions, and a manner of unhealthy coping mechanisms to push through my work without having to address my declining mental health. After years of sacrificing my health and well-being, I found myself in an inpatient psychiatric unit in New York City, having a full-blown mental health crisis. I was so low that I had lost interest in being alive, yet so successful that no one there could understand why.