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Author Annie Dillard wrote that “how we spend our days is, of course, how we spend our lives”. So, how was it that I spent a large portion of my 20s terrified of the big, long life I had before me? After Stanford University, I’d moved to New York to work at Google but I was depressed, anxious.
When I realised that many brilliant and accomplished people were also secretly miserable, just trying to make it through the day, I looked for terminology to describe this, but there was none. So I came up with my own: the underfulfilled overachiever, or UFOA. This describes a constant striver who is living a great‑on‑paper life, yet feels disconnected from their work, life and self. UFOAs see success as the organising principle of our lives. We call it by a catchy name: hustle culture. We brag about our intense busyness. Side hustles are a badge of honour. Going “above and beyond” in our jobs is routine. Our primary purpose, unabashedly, is achievement.
Most of us were shaped around expectations from the beginning. We praise kids for being “good students”, by which we don’t mean curious and engaged. We mean high grades and awards. Our education system is built on this principle. This means prioritising productivity – achievement’s codependent partner – above almost all else. The central question becomes: “How can I be the most productive today?”
But if this is supposed to guarantee our happiness, why do almost 50% of millennials report symptoms of depression and/or anxiety disorders and 84% report burnout? And why are these numbers rising? Those are not metrics of success by anyone’s definition. Clearly, our system is broken. The problem is the expectation that with achievement comes fulfilment. It’s not about the most enjoyable way to get to work or being and feeling well during your day; it’s about what each choice can earn you.
The way we’ve been taught to “do” life is all wrong. “Destinational living”, by which we pursue recognisable outcomes based on the lie that these will guarantee security and happiness, is an “end justifies the means” philosophy. Destinational living says: “Decide what you want your life to look like, come up with a 10-year plan, and then work backward to determine the most advantageous place to start.” In the abstract, this is a lovely idea. There’s a reason why it’s the dominant cultural paradigm. It’s comforting to believe that the world is so predictable that we can plot it all out in advance. If only it were true.
Destinational Living means outsourcing our decision-making. What is impressive, what is valuable, is defined not by what matters to us personally but, rather, by what matters to others. In effect, we’re “life plagiarising”. It’s asking, “what did that person do to achieve such success?” and then turning around and saying, “OK, got it. Copy, paste”.
What most UFOAs eventually learn the hard way is that being, or appearing, successful (becoming a CEO, parent, spouse, homeowner) is a different experience from being fulfilled. Fulfilment is a deep sense of belonging to yourself.
Many UFOAs misdiagnose their problem as unreasonable expectations, or workaholism, assuming that they just have to “care less” about work. In 2022, “quiet quitting” – doing the bare minimum required to keep a job – dominated headlines. While I support the sentiment, I’m not a fan of any strategy that is based on engaging less with your life. I’m pretty sure that is not the recipe for fulfilment.
There are also proponents of opting out altogether. There is a movement among young people in China called tang ping, or “lying flat” that is “a way of life [that includes] not getting married, not having children, not buying a house or a car, and refusing to work extra hours or hold a job at all”. I applaud anyone investigating alternative strategies. But ambition is a genuine part of who we are. Not to mention that living antithetically to the cultural system is still living defensively against, instead of for, something.
There’s another way and I call it directional living. Here’s the catch: I can’t find fulfilment for you. The good news is that it’s all up to you. Directional living is like the scientific method but for life. You begin with a hypothesis – your best guess as to the direction of a loose “something bigger”. You conduct tests and collect data through your experiences, refining your life hypothesis as you go.
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If you have a hypothesis that involves living on the beach, you may test that by renting a house on the coast for one month and collecting data on how right, or not, that is for you. The goal is not to permanently relocate but to find out whether you want to continue exploring that path. Success is in finding what’s true, not in proving your original theory correct.
I’ve found this idea speaks uniquely to UFOAs at this moment in time. The closest thing I have to a personal motto is a quotation that’s widely attributed to Carl Jung but that, as it turns out, he never actually said at all. “The privilege of a lifetime is to become who you truly are.” My greatest hope for you is that you get to live this privilege fully.
