On knowing what is enough for you and your career
The split second before they announced our name, I realized we’d won. Something about the way the announcer’s mouth moved to create a “V” shape for Vino Vero, my wine store’s name.
We had just been named the best independent wine retailer in the UK.
My husband and I exploded. This was huge. It was a turning point for all the hard work we’d poured our lives into.
And the customers came calling.
It was fun for about 6 months. Then it became overwhelming. 2 years later, I suffered a nervous breakdown, which saw me off work for 2 months.
Because I never knew when or how to stop. I never knew what was “enough” for me and my business. In our society, there is no such thing. You have to grow more, earn more, be more, way past the point of “enough.”
It’s bulls**t. Here’s why.
In the beginning, we look to the best and think, yep, that could be me one day.
When I opened my store, there was a famous London wine bar and store, similar in scope to mine, that was smashing it out of the park. I was all over their social media like a rash. I sat in their bar and watched them work, figuring out why they were so popular.
I wanted what they had, and I was determined not to stop until I got there.
At the beginning of our careers, many of us are not interested in the concept of “enough.” We’re too busy trying to become the best.
So we work, and we work hard. I slaved at my wine business, often working 60–80 hour weeks with no time off for months.
I didn’t want to stop at “enough.” I wanted it all, regardless of what that meant for other areas of my life like my relationships (I never saw anyone), my health (I gained 25 pounds), and my exhaustion levels (bad. Just bad).
Then I got my wish.
We got the accolade of winning best wine retailer in the UK, and our revenue skyrocketed. It was partly the recognition, but more than that, we had poured 5 years of our lives into making it work. And any entrepreneur or freelancer will tell you that the 5-year mark is when things get really interesting.
But of course, it wasn’t enough for me. Because I had hit my turnover target, the next year’s target was higher. My definition of a “good Saturday” meant taking in double what we had the year before.
Capitalism — the society in which we live — demands endless growth, and we have internalized that to be the mark of success. Never stop, never stay still, always grow. You’re a failure if you don’t.
Your job starts to become one of those neverending nightmares where you’re running toward something, but it keeps moving further away while people in the background chant hit that goal, and you’ll be happy.
Except that goal moves every time you hit it. So you’ll never be happy.
Not knowing what enough is to you means that it’s never enough.
My tipping point was as dramatic as I am. It happened halfway down a wet and windy Welsh mountainside a couple of days after Christmas.
I opened my work email to discover a box of wine hadn’t been delivered to the parents of one of our important clients. As I was crying into my phone, wondering how the hell to fix the mistake on a mountainside, I lost my balance and tripped. I fell on my ass into a muddy puddle where I proceeded to wail, much to the confusion of some onlookers.
From that moment on, I didn’t set foot in my business for 2 months. And once we eventually sold the store, it took over a year to recover from nearly 8 years of excessive work.
The reason? I had taken on too many income streams — wholesale, retail, hospitality, supper clubs, wine subscriptions, etc. I never wanted to say no to money, even though the business had already been viable for many years.
To me, that didn’t matter. What mattered was that I was the best. And the best meant more money, more accolades, more busyness.
All of that eventually broke me. It cost me a lot of time, money, and effort to pick up the pieces and start again.
The funny thing about selling a business as a going concern is that on the day you sign the paperwork, you literally have nothing to do with that business ever again.
It’s a clean break.
And with that clean break, I took up freelance writing. Now, I have a chance to build this career differently.
I will build it until it’s enough, both in a monetary and psychological sense. I’ve spent many months identifying what “enough” means to me, and I have a good idea this time.
Of course, I’m always tempted to stretch my definition of enough. I catch myself wondering, hey, maybe I could be the next Tim Denning if I worked a bit (a lot) harder.
Or I think maybe I should start another Substack, pitch another few stories, secure a few more clients on Upwork, and write a few more Medium articles. Just a few more, just a few more. What’s the harm?
But I know that, much like that Welsh mountainside, it’s a slippery slope. If I carry on down it, gathering work as I go, I could end up on my ass once again in that muddy puddle.
That was the worst I’ve ever felt. I don’t want a repeat.
So I remember that being the best is not all there is in life. I remember I actually have a life. One that I once broke and had to be rebuilt in a different way.
One where “enough” is at the center of it all.
Society might tell you you’re a failure if you don’t grow every day, month, or year. You’re a failure if you’re not the best.
They’re wrong.
Take it from me. Growth isn’t the answer. Being the best certainly isn’t.
Knowing what is “enough” is.
