If you were to ask teenage me what it is to be successful, the answers would’ve come quickly. Depending on the moment and mood, they’d vary, but there would be common threads. Success would equal lots of money, respect and adoration of those around me, looking great (this was my benchmark of success, not attainable goals), and some kind of profession that I would enjoy. Probably acting, because that’s what I liked to do back then.

I don’t think that viewpoint put me in the minority. Now, or then. Listen to what people say, in person or online. Who gets followed on Twitter and Instagram? Is it philosophers urging us to be better people, or social workers caring for those in dire need?

No. It’s the people with shapely butts and fat stacks of cash.

You know it’s true. In a way, it’s so ridiculous that a person can’t help but laugh. Anyone with a moderately significant amount of emotional depth can see this is all wrong. Honestly, I don’t believe that we’re all so shallow. So why does it persist?

There’s no easy answer that neatly explains it all. But there is a large contributor to this pervasive attitude: How we define success.

Some of my earliest memories are of parroting my father’s words which reflected a belief that getting rich was all that mattered in this life.

I’m going to pause here to interject an important fact. I was not born or raised wealthy. Far from it. Most of my childhood and early adulthood was spent poverty-line poor. So believe me when I tell you that I’m not one of these disconnected one-percenters saying that money isn’t everything without ever having experienced (in the words of Everclear) “A welfare Christmas.”

With that said, money isn’t everything.

Don’t throw stuff at me. Hear me out.

Money is important. I get that. I like money. There’s nothing like walking by a McDonald’s with hunger pulling your guts apart, smelling the fries, and knowing that you can’t afford to buy a single thing on the menu. That sucks. Money fixes that particular problem. What I’m saying is that among our people, including my estranged father, there is this belief that money equals happiness and there is no point of diminishing return.

Believing this fairy tale causes us to practically worship anyone with a lot of cash. And why not? With all that money they must not have a single problem. Their lives must be blessed and happy. Especially given that so many celebrities are really, really, ridiculously good looking, we see them and think, “They’ve got it made!” That is the pinnacle. That is the Peak of the Holy Mountain which I must climb!

Thing is, it’s not true.

There was a study done, which has been cited many times, that money does make you happy, but only up to a certain dollar amount. At the time of publication, it was around $75k/year, recently that figure was updated to $105k/year (inflation is a bitch). What this shows is that money can only make us happy in it’s usefulness as a tool that fulfills basic needs. Shelter. Food. Health care. Not worrying about those basics makes people happier. Naturally. But, after that?

There’s a concept in Tibetan Buddhism (and many other forms of Buddhism) called a bottomless desire. It’s a desire that can never be sated, no matter how often you try. Take sex, for example. How realistic is it that a person could have sex once and then say, “That was fantastic! Well, glad I did it. No need to do it again.” I’m sure there are outliers, but for most people, this isn’t the case. They’re back at the club the next weekend grinding on anyone or anything that will stay still.

Bottomless. Never ending. Feeding the desire will never truly lead to any kind of contentment or happiness. Many desires are like this. The accumulation of wealth is one. At the point that money stops solving basic problems, it stops being useful in making life better. At this point, it becomes a goal in and of itself, and can even make life more stressful.

As teenage me was left behind, many years ago, I slowly started to realize this truth. Moving on from a kid who couldn’t buy a cheeseburger to a professional adult working for large, multinational companies, I noticed that the most “successful” of the corporate climbers were actually the least happy. Sure, they could put on a smile and motivational speech, but when you got down to it, most of these guys were overworked, chronically ill, and viewed their jobs as the totality of their lives.

Ironically, you know who did come off as genuinely happy? The individual contributor who never tried for management because he likes being at home with his family for dinner. The project manager who makes sure to travel at least once a year. It made me think hard about what I had taken for granted in terms of goals and success criteria.

I’m not here to judge anyone else’s choices. You do you and all that. If your work makes you happy, truly, then keep doing it. But for me, I found that the more I achieved, the more milestones I passed, the plainer it became to me that I wasn’t getting any happier. About a decade ago, I was an anxious, nervous wreck. Taking medication for anxiety and depression. Drinking myself into stupors on the weekends.

Why? I was successful, wasn’t I? I mean, I wasn’t a billionaire, but I was the first in my family to get a college degree. I was making six figures. Living in a nice home and driving a luxury sports car. It was all coming together. Right?

For me, the beginning of my road to happiness (which I’m still very much on) started with realizing that success was not what I had believed it to be. True success wasn’t quantified by my bank account, the price of my car, or the number of social media friends I had. True success was something else. Something more important. It was being valuable to others. Being able to appreciate what I had rather than continually lusting for more. Success was being helpful when my friends and family needed me.

If I had to pick some visuals, I’d say that success changed from a vault of cash to a brilliant sunset. I know how wishy-washy that sounds. And I don’t care. Think about what being successful means to you. Is it truly important to have a mountain of money, or is it more important that you’ve provided for those you love? It’s a personal question, but one I feel is important. At least it is to me. I couldn’t even begin to start living a better life until I gave up the notion of success that was handed to me as a child and took up one that truly mattered to me.

My guess is that I’m not the only one who could benefit from it.