Craig Allen

For most of my life, I’ve felt like a failure.

When I opened up about it, people would say, “But look at all you’ve done!” — and yet, I couldn’t see myself the way they did. Every project carried its own mix of stress, doubt, and disappointment.

As I’ve been developing my business, I started to notice something deeper: a gap between what I know I’m capable of and how worthy I feel of doing it.

And the more I paid attention, the more I realized where that feeling came from.

The Trap of Chasing Success

Like so many of us, I got caught up in the constant chase — the need to achieve, prove myself, and keep up.

Social media makes it even harder. Everywhere I looked, people were launching podcasts, releasing books, or booking speaking gigs. It’s inspiring, sure — but it also made me question my own progress.

Who am I to be doing this when others are already miles ahead?

That kind of thinking kept me stuck for years.

Comparison Is the Thief of Joy (and Perspective)

The truth is, we only see a small slice of anyone’s story. We see their wins — not their late nights, rejections, or moments of doubt.

Once I understood that, something shifted.

I started to see successful people not as competition, but as evidence that what I want is possible. Their stories could motivate me, not diminish me.

Redefining Success on My Own Terms

When I zoomed out, I realized my version of success simply looks different.

For me, success means spending time with my family while my kids are still young. It means doing work that helps people and aligns with my values.

I’m not chasing recognition or validation anymore. I’m chasing meaning.

The Quiet Work That Actually Matters

The truth is, most of the work that leads to “success” happens when no one’s watching — designing templates, recording episodes, writing and rewriting content that may or may not ever go viral.

That’s the work I’ve learned to love.

Because when you love the process, the outcomes matter less.

Why I Stopped Chasing Success

I stopped chasing success because I realized it was based on someone else’s definition.

Now, I’m simply focused on showing up, doing the work, and growing along the way — failures and all.

The irony is, that’s probably what real success looks like after all.