I Don’t Want to Win Anymore — I Want to Be Free

May 19, 2025

“You can win the game and still hate the player you became to do it.”

For most of my life, success had a scoreboard.

I didn’t choose that — I just inherited it.

In high school, the metrics were clear:
Grades. Class rank. Varsity letters. Girlfriends. Popularity.

Check. Check. Check. Check.
I was winning by every visible measure.

That same philosophy — though unspoken — carried me straight through my military career. Promotions, medals, evaluations, leadership billets. The game never really changed. The metrics just got more formal.

But the wiring stayed the same:
If I achieve, I win.
If I win, I matter.

And that formula worked — until it didn’t.

The Lie Beneath the Trophies

There’s a dangerous thing that happens when you start succeeding early: you start mistaking achievement for peace.

They’re not the same.

One is external.
One is internal.

One gets handed to you by institutions, rankings, applause.
The other is built slowly, quietly, without guaranteed recognition.

I wish I had seen that earlier. But I didn’t. I was too busy checking the next box.

It wasn’t until I had checked nearly all of them — good job, good income, good reputation — that I noticed something unsettling:

I wasn’t free.
I was just well-decorated.

The High Achiever’s Trap

There’s a specific kind of emptiness that high achievers feel, but rarely talk about. It’s not depression. It’s not despair.

It’s the quiet confusion of realizing that every time you climbed a mountain, someone just pointed to another.

It’s the hollowness of reaching a summit and realizing… you don’t even remember why you wanted to get there.

You just got good at climbing.

Some of us confuse that with momentum. But really, it’s momentum without direction. And momentum without direction is just velocity toward burnout.

So What Now?

Over the last few years, something’s shifted for me.

I’ve started to question the scoreboard.

I’ve started to decouple success from achievement — not in theory, but in practice.

And I’ve had to admit something hard to myself:
My neurons are still wired to crave gold stars.

Even when I know better, my brain lights up when I get praise, when I finish something, when I "win." That dopamine loop is deep. And undoing it isn’t a single decision — it’s a slow, conscious unlearning.

But I’m trying.

I’m trying to redefine success like this:

Peace of mind over public approval
Depth over display
Actualization over applause
Inner alignment over outer achievement

I’m learning that I’d rather feel whole than look impressive.

That still feels weird to type. But it feels true.

Permission to Redefine

So if you're like me — if you’ve been measuring your worth by productivity, accolades, or recognition — I want to offer you this:

You’re allowed to change the game.

You're allowed to stop chasing stars you don’t even believe in anymore.

You’re allowed to want stillness more than standing ovations.

You don’t have to win. You have to live.

And not just perform a version of living that scores well on someone else’s rubric — but one that feels like yours.

The New Definition

So here’s where I’m landing:

Success, for me, is no longer a medal.
It’s not a rank.
It’s not a title.
It’s not a follower count.
It’s not even “being the best.”

Success is:

Peace in the morning
Integrity in my work
Truth in my relationships
Curiosity in my mind
And the freedom to say, “I’m enough” — even if no one claps.

That’s what I’m after now.

It took me decades to realize that.
But I think I’m finally playing the right game.

How about you?

Matt DiGeronimo is a writer, thinker, and contrarian who simplifies the complex and challenges conventional wisdom. Please message me for public speaking or coaching opportunities.