was raised by a woman who ensured my idea of success was my own happiness. And for eighteen years, I stuck to this ideology. I grew up in a small town on the outskirts of Edinburgh, where my weekends were spent going on long nature walks and road trips to the Scottish Highlands. In a place as quaint and gothic as Edinburgh, it is easy to fall into the comfort of familiarity. Constantly surrounded by the arts and history of the place, dreaming of having a job in the arts becomes quite a common experience — but with no major opportunities to actually pursue them. I moved to Sydney with my family in 2022, holding onto those dreams that I had once generated in my high school English classes. I thought to myself ‘this is everything I’ve wanted’. My dreams were starting to materialise in the most beautiful way; university, friendships that I’ll have for a lifetime, a writing portfolio slowly building, and experiencing my early adult life. The best way to describe this shift is fascinating.
I had always praised myself on how grounded and authentic I had been throughout my life. Though I still believe I stick to these values, it has been extremely difficult to ensure I do not fall into a superficial and materialistic mindset while trying to make a life for myself in Sydney. The first main obstacle is how success is defined by both university and the societal standards of Sydney city.
The University of Sydney, being one of the highest ranking universities in Australia, is known to be a prestigious (and pretentious) institution. After growing up in a town that was working-class and poverty-stricken, it was a major change to be amongst children of millionaires. Of course, this isn’t to say that all USyd students are so well off, but I think it is important to mention that I didn’t even know what an elite residential college was until a year into my degree.
This world was entirely new to me. I slowly began to realise through the friendships I had in first year that success had very little to do with happiness to the broader population of Sydney. When I realised that my dreams of being in the arts were quite consistently made fun of (and not at all original), the pressure kicked in to understand what success in this capitalistic and corporate place meant. Upon reflection, I began to notice that so many of my friendships were subtly competitive and almost like a Linkedin connection in real life. The feeling of isolation crept up on me at a rapid pace. The connections I had lacked depth, realness and veracity.
In my second year of university, my professors began to tell us how important it was to network. They told us how crucial it was that you know people in the industry. They told us that, especially in the arts, you need to know people to get the opportunities to progress in your career — or else you’ll more than likely fade away into a background role. It didn’t take long for me to understand that the reason I hadn’t made many deep connections in Sydney was because the friendships weren’t about that. In this culture of success, people are merely pawns for pushing your way to the top. I started to realise that every one of my friends had something that could help me in some way, whether that be my future, my career or my lifestyle in general. Equally, I had things that could help them. All of this was a subconscious switch in my mindset after living in the competitive and academic space of USyd. And they say The Devil Wears Prada was satirical…
Once I understood that success meant competing with everyone around me, my main hobby in my spare time was building my resume and portfolio. My ego and pride began to rule my life. The pressure of being a known figure in such a ruthless environment altered all my decision-making from my work life to using any spare time I had to push to thrive, not just merely “get by”. My idea of fun switched from going clubbing to going to keynote speeches and networking in fancy bars. My social media algorithm began to push influencers that promoted a harmful and damaging rhetoric of wellness being constantly productive and being able to upkeep an expensive lifestyle… while being a full-time university student. Things that were simply not aware of before living in Sydney were now being shoved down my throat.
I found myself bragging to everyone about how I was working to a hellish extent and still getting good grades, while also having multiple extra-curricular roles. The public side of that came across as a ‘well-put together girl’ who was ‘paying her way through life’, and thriving while doing it. The private side of this pressure was the constant stress, the migraines, the breaking down in tears as soon as I got home from work every night, and then wiping those tears and continuing on as though this is a healthy way to live. The burnout was the thing that I strived for, the thing that I felt I needed in order to get ahead of everyone else.
This is not an experience exclusive to myself. The majority of people I have met at university have felt this intense need for success (whatever that means) and imposter syndrome in this city. It is important to understand that these experiences should not be seen as a personal problem to those who have had to live through it, but more an issue that has been constructed by the capitalist world. The desire to be wealthy has always been prevalent in society as a whole, but with the current economic state, the housing crisis, and the portrayal of “wellness” and “success” on social media, being wealthy and successful in the corporate and capitalistic world has become a need for many. But success should not be a detriment to your health and burn out should not be the end goal. It should be subjective to how you view your own success in life. That is what you should be chasing.
