The Deception of Achievement and the Quiet Grace of Fulfilment

Why the high of accomplishment never lasts—and what actually makes us feel whole.

“Achievement is no guarantee of inner peace. In fact, it often disturbs it.”

— Thomas Merton

Launch day. The Midlife Shift—my book, my baby—was finally out in the world.

After months of writing, editing, doubting, and dreaming, I was ready. On the surface, the goal was simple: to hit No. 1 on Amazon in an obscure category, such as “Humanism Philosophy,” as advised by a marketing consultant.

That’s how you sell books, he told me, but of course, behind that, something deeper was stirring—a longing to be seen, to matter, to feel fulfilled.

So I worked that launch like a man possessed. I messaged every contact in my phone, emailed everyone I knew, and posted on every platform I could. All I needed was to sell around 200 copies under a dollar to hit the top.

And it worked.

A few days later, the notification came: “#1 Bestseller – Humanism Philosophy.”

I was ecstatic.

For about ten minutes.

Then… nothing. A strange silence. An anticlimax. A whispering question inside: Was that it?

True, I achieved what I’d wanted, but was I truly fulfilled? The rush at first soon dissipated, leaving me feeling empty.

The Dopamine Trap

What I experienced was dopamine in action.

Dopamine is often misunderstood as the “pleasure” chemical. In reality, it’s the “I want more (but will never be satisfied)” chemical. It drives us toward the goal. It gets us hungry, obsessed, and energised. But once we actually get the thing?

The thrill vanishes quickly.

This is why we can chase goals for months or years, only to feel deflated after achieving them. The next morning, we’re already asking: What’s next?

It’s not our fault. It’s biology. Dopamine is designed to keep us moving, not to make us whole.

Like drinking saltwater when you’re thirsty—stimulating, but never satisfying.

The Serotonin Shift

While dopamine fuels the chase, serotonin offers something subtler: peace.

Serotonin is associated with contentment, stability, connection, and self-worth. It’s not a spike—it’s a baseline. You feel it when you do meaningful work, when you spend time with loved ones, when you live in alignment with your values.

It doesn’t scream. It whispers.

Looking back, the real joy I felt during the book project wasn’t in the launch or the bestseller title. It was in the process—the morning writing sessions, the edits that finally made sense, the flow state I found when the words poured out effortlessly.

That was serotonin.

That was fulfilment.

Adam Smith and the Beautiful Lie

Even Adam Smith, the father of capitalism, saw through this.

In The Theory of Moral Sentiments, he wrote that much of our ambition is driven by a kind of illusion—that wealth and recognition will finally make us happy. He called it a “deception which rouses and keeps in continual motion the industry of mankind.”

In simpler terms, we’re tricked into striving so that the machine of society keeps running.

And it works—at least on the surface.

But as individuals, that trick can leave us hollow. We chase after titles, trophies, money, and milestones, only to find that none of it quiets the deeper restlessness inside.

Because fulfilment isn’t something you can buy, win, or measure.

It’s something you become.

The Process Is the Point

We’re taught to fixate on the outcome—the book deal, the bestseller list, the dream job, the successful launch.

However, the truth is that fulfilment lives in the process.

In the doing. In the showing up.

What really nourishes us isn’t the reward—it’s the rhythm. Waking up and doing work that matters to us. Being in flow. Following a craft. Building something day by day, even when no one’s watching.

That’s where we grow. That’s where we come alive.

So What Do We Do With This?

We stop mistaking the high for the whole.

We stop chasing the next hit and start cultivating a life of meaningful repetition.

We ask different questions—not “What do I want to achieve?” but “What do I want to keep doing every day, even if no one claps?”

We stop obsessing over dopamine and start paying attention to serotonin.

We learn that fulfilment is not a finish line. It’s a way of walking.

Looking back, I’m still proud of hitting No.1.

But that hollow feeling afterwards showed me that no achievement—no matter how shiny—can replace the quiet satisfaction of living a life that feels aligned. Of doing the work I love. Of returning, again and again, to the process that grounds me.

Fulfilment isn’t found at the top. It’s found in the return.

To the desk. To the page. To the work.

And maybe, to yourself.