why i quit status games

stumbling towards trusting myself

by Adolph Menzel (1815-1905)

I’ve recently found myself especially drawn to books, movies, and all other kinds of stories where the protagonist gets seduced into the world of status, ascending hierarchies that seem desirable, to eventually losing their sense of self and departing from the games where they initially sought out glory. They are then left to sit with whatever is left of their character to try to make sense of what just happened back there, returning home to themselves once more. A hero’s journey of sorts through the under-world of materialism, glamour, and status.

Why is it that I am so drawn to these stories? These stories of losing oneself to the game, to the system. Watching yourself slip away as the values, preferences, priorities of others take over. I think it’s because the whole process is equal parts disempowering and empowering: empowering to feel like you’re winning, like you’re playing the game well, doing things “right,” and disempowering to realize that you have lost the entirety of who you were before you started playing that game. It is disheartening, and incredibly humbling, to realize that your values, principles, and the core parts of your sense of self were essentially as fragile as a little competition. To realize that all it took for your sense of self to unravel was, more or less, someone putting a sufficiently large carrot in front of you, and saying: do whatever it takes to get it.

I probably find these stories fascinating because I, like most of us, have felt the pull of status—the gravity of ascending to desirable positions. Positions others find impressive and envious. Those positions that make others tilt their head at you and say “wow, you must be soooo smart.” I then had to come to the reckoning of who I was when I quit them, when I decided to return home to myself, only to realize so much of who I was had frayed in the process of trying to win.

I was pretty good at the games I played — which made it that much harder to abandon them, to realize they were stealing a part of me that might not have been worth trading in for nice prizes.

Because with each rung in the ladder that I climbed, I felt more and more of my Self slipping away. The parts of myself underneath all of the symbols, titles—the parts underneath the status—were starting to erode, and I began to wonder what would be left if I continued.

changing my mind (and life)

Eventually, I grew repulsed with myself for prioritizing status over my own values, gifts, genuine interests, sense of self.

The process of dislodging myself from these games began with paying more attention to who my true models were. I realized I was most fascinated by outlier individuals — ones who seemed to pay no attention to status games, who ascended to their positions of abundance, freedom and autonomy and, in many cases, wealth, by doing for the most part, nothing but trusting themselves. I was enthralled by their ability to do what they liked—what they thought was cool—independent of what was “in” or desirable at the time they were making those choices. I worshipped their agency, their self-assuredness, their confidence that doing what felt right was the path that made the most sense—even if it didn’t make much sense to others, even if it meant foregoing some impressive thing that they “could” do, something others said was the Right path. I eventually came to the conclusion that this ability to know what you wanted and trust it was the ultimate recipe to a meaningful, rich, successful, and abundant life.

Simultaneously, I was trying to reconcile that this seemed to be a rather unusual, unpopular, and controversial view. Everyone told me: just take the opportunities in front of you, set yourself up for the future. People would kill for the opportunities you have. Just do the hard thing, over, and over, and over. Otherwise: what has all this hard work been for? Are you really just going to throw all of that away?

But the more I sat with those questions, the clearer the answer became to me: all of those sacrifices were made so that I could choose — not to obligate me towards some theoretically Right option, but to give me the chance to select the option that felt best to me.

I suddenly remembered I had agency: the ability to decide what I wanted to do, not just what everyone else told me was Desirable.

I worked hard to have optionality, and the point of optionality was to use it—not to continue accruing more options indefinitely, but to start choosing the options that felt most right to me.

no one really knows The Answer

I began to slowly notice that very few people knew why they thought what they thought, which gave me even more confidence that my inclination was the most reliable signal to trust. The deeper I inquired into why they were so convinced that I should do X, Y, or Z, the more I realized it was because someone had told THEM that X, Y, or Z was desirable and they assumed the person they heard it from knew why (while they had simply been told the same thing by someone else).

When I would ask questions, trying to untangle the web of assumptions that led people to their beliefs—their suggestions—often, they would stumble through their words, forgetting how they got to that belief in the first place.

how did i get here?

I sometimes feel like, for those of you who don’t really know me (i.e. most of you reading this), you might think I was always this flowy, clear thinking, advocating-for-living-true-to-yourself, agent of higher consciousness, persuader to the Light Side, type of person. But I wasn’t always this way (or maybe I was, but I hadn’t come to terms with it yet). For a while, I was just a skilled Player of the Games. I wanted status, achievement, money, importance. I wanted all of the things I learned to want by looking at what those around me wanted, aimed at. I wanted what everyone else wanted for reasons I couldn’t explain. and I was a good player. I was hard working, hungry, and always had a little chip on my shoulder — the perfect recipe to fall into the status-underworld headfirst, of course. I didn’t think much about self-actualization or how “aligned” I wanted my life to be. I was just focused, and according to others, I was “smart.” In hindsight, I disagree that what I was doing at the time was all that “smart”—that is: not really thinking for myself, working hard just for the sake of it, aiming at things others told me to want. But I think most people’s definition of “smart” really just translates to “good at playing the games they’re positioned in the middle of.“

I was capable, I knew that. but I didn’t yet realize that capability wasn’t an obligation. Just because I could, doesn’t mean I needed to. True capability meant having real options. I didn’t need to do what everyone else was doing, what everyone told me was The Path: the hard, steep, high effort paths. I didn’t think critically then about my definition of “smart.” I didn’t yet realize that the only definition of smart that really resonates with me is: the ability to get what you actually want out of life.

As you can see though, I have evolved. I woke up, at some point, to how much I would regret not betting on myself by trusting myself - choosing what I cared about, my talents, my gifts, my preferences. I didn’t realize until later just how much agency I had, that no one was forcing me to make the choices I was making, even though it somehow felt like they were? I realized that I was making myself the victim of a situation I had the ability to opt out of, blaming my disappointment in my own choices on others, acting like I was subject to—obligated to honour—the opinions of those around me.

figuring out what you want

I hadn’t realized yet, that opinions are just suggestions—just options. They are not obligations, commands, or contracts you are subject to. No one is making you do anything (at least in my case, and in most cases, no one is). You make the choices you are living with, usually ones made under the heavy influence of external opinions, and more specifically: the desire for approval. But you can undo so many of those decisions. You can, quite literally, change your life right now. Today. You can change your life with a single choice. Isn’t that wild? It’s a little overwhelming to realize you have such agency, such power, that you can change everything in this moment, if you wanted to.

But coming to terms with the power you have is the first (and in many ways, only) step you need to take to begin trusting yourself instead of deferring to what others think is best for you. You can do exactly what you want. You can live how you want. Sure, you might need to look at some trade offs and make some sacrifices, but they can be the ones that make sense to you, instead of the ones you are being told make sense. It is so much more possible than you might have ever considered.

After quitting the games I was so rewarded for playing, life felt like an entirely different game—one of getting closer and closer to what feels best to me, while growing, learning, and expanding in the domains that genuinely mattered to me. Learning what I genuinely wanted to learn instead of what some employer said is “incredibly valuable learning experience in the industry.” When you get presented with that line, ask yourself: Do *I* actually want to learn this? Do *I* want to be incredible at this skill they are training me at? Or do they want be to good at X, smart at Y, skilled at Z?

Because the product of learning, of optionality, of mentorship, of time in front of “important people”, are very marketable products to young people hungry to succeed, grow, and win the games they’re playing. But most of them don’t know why they’re playing them or what prizes they are working towards. Because despite what those who let you into those games want you to think, the top is narrow, the prizes are not that widely distributed (or require immense time, energy, and effort to obtain), and earning them comes with significant costs—the most painful of which is: betraying yourself.

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If you want to get clear on what you truly want, opt out of games that don’t serve you, begin trusting yourself fully and bring your desires to life, learn more about working with me 1:1.

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Related essays you might enjoy: want what you have, ambition as a fingerprint, how to be cool, on self-trust, on being selective. Follow me on Twitter for my daily thoughts.

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