success isn’t always louder.

sometimes it looks like calm.

i used to think success had to be loud — loud people, loud energy, loud proof. the kind that fills rooms and earns applause. the kind that looks impressive on paper. the kind that makes other people stop and stare, preferably with just a hint of envy. and for a while, that worked for me. i was good at it.

when i first moved to LA, i wanted to be a west coast version of miranda priestly — powerful, unshakable, feared in the best possible way. i wanted people to know when i walked into a room that i was not to be underestimated. and, honestly, i pulled it off. people took me seriously. i made a lot of money. i built a reputation. but it was exhausting. because that version of success came with a price tag i didn’t see at first — time, peace, relationships, presence, and a constant hum of performance i didn’t know how to turn off. it took years to realize that volume doesn’t always equal value.

these days, i think about it like hollywood. the same names in the same rooms, clapping for each other, handing out awards, year after year. it looks glamorous — and sure, there’s prestige — but how much of it really matters outside of that room? it’s a whole industry built on being seen. and that’s fine for entertainment. but in business — in real life — constant visibility isn’t the same thing as impact. real success doesn’t always make noise. sometimes it looks like peace.

for me, right now, it looks like working toward being able to fully support myself through my own business — and being honest that i’m not quite there yet. it looks like building something sustainable, piece by piece, without pretending i have it all figured out. it looks like showing up consistently, doing the work, and choosing to believe that slow, steady growth counts too.

quiet success is being able to take time off without guilt. it’s having the freedom to say no to what doesn’t fit. it’s working a 9-to-5 and actually stopping at 5. it’s being able to help pay for a family member’s care, or take yourself (or your family) on a vacation, or close your laptop knowing the world won’t fall apart if you rest. quiet success is success, too. it just doesn’t need a stage to prove it. the hardest part about stepping away from the loud version of success was realizing how much of my identity was tied up in being “that woman.” the one who had it handled, who always looked composed, who people knew not to cross. but that kind of power is fragile. it’s built on fear and adrenaline. and i don’t live that way anymore.

now, i still handle my responsibilities - i just approach them differently. i don’t take on what doesn’t belong to me. i don’t force things to move faster than they’re meant to. and i don’t confuse chaos with productivity anymore. it’s a softer life. and i think that version of me (the one who used to live in heels and a permanent state of stress) would be jealous of this one. because it’s quieter. but it’s also calmer, fuller, more real.

and maybe that’s the point: success doesn’t have to announce itself to be true. sometimes, the quiet version is the most honest one.