We live in a fast-paced society, chasing milestones as if they’ll finally deliver peace. But this can lead to a confusing and painful phenomenon known as post achievement depression. We get to the finish line, and instead of joy, we find an unsettling emptiness.
In this article, I want to share a story about a goal I chased with everything I had, and how, when I finally reached it, I felt more miserable than before. This isn’t a lecture, and it’s not a list of quick tips. It’s just my story. And maybe in it, you’ll find something that speaks to your own. In order to tell the story right, I need to get back to 2020…
The Clean Slate Fallacy
For most of my life, I treated problems with quick escapes instead of facing them. As a dismissive-avoidant type, running felt easier than dealing.
A fight with friends would usually end with me cutting ties and finding new ones. Tension at home or work would result in immediately looking for a new job or an address. Being a junior in my position made it hard to find new jobs due to a lack of options, but sure as hell, I would change my address every 6 months.
I believed the next chapter would always be different, but all I was doing was hitting reset on the same story.
Then the lockdown started, and to a large degree, that limited my ability to run away from everything. I couldn’t move cuz no one would host viewings, couldn’t find a new job cuz everyone was letting people go, and most importantly, couldn’t make new friends for reasons you know all too well. I started to feel suffocated, but once again, there was nothing wrong with me – if only I would change my environment one more time, this time it would be different.
So I came up with an impossible plan that, in my mind at the time, would solve all my problems: pack everything up and move halfway around the world.
No one panics when things go “according to the plan”
Now I was in my element. Planning my grand escape felt like I had just discovered the cure for all problems, and the only thing I couldn’t figure out was “How come I didn’t think about this earlier?”
In all reality, this wasn’t an easy move, as I had to sell all my stuff I couldn’t carry, give up my rent, pack everything and go. There is something beautiful but equally scary when you are on a path of no return. 2 weeks before my flight, I was there.
To add a bit of context, that happened in November 2020 in London. The 2nd wave of lockdown was hitting harder than the first, and I was legitimately concerned that my moving plans to Mauritius were at risk. I released my rental contract, used most of my money for the flight ticket, accommodation (directly in Mauritius), and the Covid test. If something were to happen and I couldn’t leave, I would be literally on the streets, during the worst part of the lockdown and on top of that, in the winter with no winter clothes or money.
Funny enough, that pressure made me very happy as I had my mind preoccupied with a grandiose goal that would solve all my problems.
Through a series of fortunate, some even miraculous events, I made it safely to Mauritius on the 22nd of November, 2 days before the UK borders were completely closed.
And now, while everyone is suffering through lockdown in most parts of the world, I am free on a paradise island, living in an amazing apartment 2 minutes away from the private beach. I will live happily ever after – or so I thought.
The Paradise Paradox: Nowhere to Hide
When quarantine finally ended and I stepped out onto the island, it felt like I had cracked the code of life. Palm trees swaying, turquoise waves rolling in, sun on my skin – while friends back in London were locked inside gloomy flats, I was running barefoot on the beach at sunrise. For a while, it seemed undeniable: my escape had worked. I had outrun the darkness.
I started going out – socialising and slipping back into my old patterns of heavy drinking. The locals were really nice and friendly, but they started to see me as the “rich European” who just got everything from life with very little work. I found it difficult to establish deep connections, which I didn’t know at the time was a really important thing for me.
Sooner or later, the clean slate began to stain, and the same unresolved issues kept coming back. But this time it hit differently. I was in the one place I thought I’d be untouchable, paradise itself, and still, the abyss reached out for me. It didn’t just break my sense of safety; it broke the very belief that safety could ever be found in a new anywhere.
If I had come halfway around the world and the same demons still followed, the truth was undeniable: this feeling had nothing to do with my location. It was a clear case of post achievement depression.
The Breakdown: When the Cure Becomes the Poison
It started with the realisation that I was still the same person – all my efforts to outrun my demons had been for nothing. And in Mauritius, that truth cut deeper. The paradise setting didn’t soften the blow; it amplified it. I kept telling myself I should be ecstatically happy, and when reality didn’t match the expectation, the gap between the two grew unbearable.
So I drank to fill that gap. At first, it worked – a quick escape, a way to mute the voice reminding me that something was wrong. But like a row of dominoes, things began to collapse. My manager at the time was abusive, and on one of those days, he tore into me – exactly when I had nothing left to shield myself.
I remember walking down the street, trying to hold it together, when a wave of panic hit. My chest tightened, my vision blurred, and all I wanted was to disappear. Strangers tried to greet me (Mauritians are famously warm), but I brushed them off harshly, desperate to protect the little sense of safety I had left. By the time I got home, the spiral was complete. I felt like I was losing every grip I had on life.
That was the terrifying paradox: I had made the boldest change I could imagine, and yet it seemed like nothing I did – nothing I could do – would make a difference. For the first time, I wondered what the point of trying even was.
Understanding Post Achievement Depression
My trip to Mauritius wasn’t a failure. It was a bold goal, and I’m still proud I made it happen. The real issue wasn’t the destination; it was the belief that one external achievement could solve all my internal battles.
Big, glamorous goals can seduce us into thinking they’ll fix everything, but this belief is often the direct cause of post achievement depression. And while they might change the circumstances in one corner of life, they’ll never replace the deeper work that has to be done inside.
